A few months ago, after years of wondering what was still in the historic record about Henry Tufts’ conviction for burglary, death sentence, and commutation of sentence to imprisonment on Castle Island, I finally got over to Boston to have a look for myself. While there, I also drove a short way up the coast to see Castle Island as it exists today.

Anyone who’s read Edmund Pearson’s edition of Henry Tufts will know that several primary documents remain related to Henry Tufts’ trial, particularly a death warrant signed by Samuel Adams and a petition for clemency written in Henry Tufts’ own hand. Pearson also mentions and quotes extensively from court records about the case, and mentions seeing in the archives “the joint petition of himself and his wife, ‘dear Nabby,’ and two petitions of Mr. John Thurston” (Pearson 1930, “The Six Silver Spoons,” 354), with Thurston being the juror that Henry mentions as having initially been against convicting him.

Thanks to the magic of the internet, I was able to see the court documents for myself over a year ago. After having been microfilmed decades ago, these are now digitized as well and available for free to anyone willing to make an account with FamilySearch, the genealogy database run by the Mormon church. These records are in the Pardon Files, and detail Henry Tufts’ conviction first for passing counterfeit money early in 1794, then later for the capital crime of burglary later in the year in June. I’ve got transcriptions of them on my Primary Sources page.

But missing from what I was able to find on my own in FamilySearch were any of the petitions Pearson mentions, plus the Adams death warrant, and the court records of one of Henry Tufts’ other 1794 conviction that Pearson mentioned, an instance of Henry tufts committing several burglaries in Boston in April 1794, including breaking into a shoemaker’s shop (called in the Flash Language, “cracking a crabkin,” of course).

Since my goal is to collect together all information about Henry Tufts that I can find, this of course really bothered me. It’s bothersome enough that Pearson mentions but does not elaborate on certain documents; and that Pearson did not say what collections or box numbers, or what bound volumes he located items in; and that he includes only partial fragments of existing documents he had seen; but to have today’s technology, and my librarian training in using it, come up short, that I took as a challenge to go out and see for myself. I also had long suspected that there may be materials that Pearson had failed to mention.

However, as a Reference Librarian and sometime archivist and research library denizen myself, I know the way such things work and what strategies are helpful in locating resources and getting good help in a research library: I contacted them and asked for help. First I called them by phone, where they encouraged me to send an email with the exact details of what I was looking for; and then through sending that same email, with Pearson’s images of the two Tufts documents attached.

Only a day or two later, I received a detailed reply from one of the archivists. They had gone looking in the records for me and confirmed finding Henry Tufts’ petition. They also made this very exciting statement: “There are plenty of materials in the council files regarding this case and you are welcome to visit the archives to take a look at them.” This was finally enough to get me into my car and onto the highway to Boston the next day. I had to see all of this for myself!

On a gray and snowless February morning, after some customary (for Boston, and for me at least) close calls on the road, and some wonky navigation irregularities, I found myself outside of the Massachusetts Archives building. Entering and requesting to research the records mentioned in the email, I received very quick service and my own researcher ID, and found myself seated in their reading room. I worked at a facility like this during college, and it was there that I discovered Henry Tufts, so this was a very pleasant part of the experience, sitting in a glass-walled reading room once again. And being a library patron once again, as opposed to my usual day-to-day of providing service to library patrons, it reminded me of why my profession stresses the importance of good patron service so much: we’re there to give the patron the best possible experience, and we are the patron’s best friend while they’re there. I found I could ask for anything, any additional resource or volume, including ones that required extra searching, and was immediately assisted with every request. In other words, it was really nice, and I hope I provide service nearly as good with my own patrons.

Council Files

Before long they brought to me a box from the Council Files, covering October, 1793 to February 1795. This was held in an old-looking file box, possibly dating to the 1920s, which could mean this was the same housing the documents were in when examined by Edmund Pearson about ninety years ago. To my knowledge, no Tufts researcher since Pearson has examined these documents, so it was strange to think I was the next researcher after him, even after such a long time. 

The documents were held in little month-to-month bundles tied by sometimes colorful ribbons. Archival storage philosophies can vary for how to best house a collection like this, with some favoring unfolding and even ironing old documents flat, and placing them in acid-free folders, while others leave old arrangements as-is. This collection was either an example of the latter, or they haven’t gotten to modernizing the Council Files’ storage yet.

June, 1794

In any case, I started making discoveries almost immediately. On a document for an unrelated case from June, 1794, I found the name of “Hon. Nathan Dane, Esq.,” who was one of Henry Tufts’ two attorneys in the burglary case (called “Dana” in Henry Tufts’ book); it appears he was a common presence in criminal court in Boston at the time.

Later in the June bundle, I thought I had struck upon the whole collection of documents when I found this one. Addressed to “His Excellency Governor Saml. Adams, Esqr., Governor of Massachusetts, Boston,” it bore the description “Exemplification of the sentence against Henry Tufts. – June 27th 1794.” With palpable excitement, I unfolded this document, even taking out my phone to take a video, expecting to see Henry Tufts’ petition in his own handwriting before my very eyes. 

Instead, this proved to be two documents which were unmentioned by Pearson. The shorter of the two documents is signed by one Jn. Tucker of Ipswich, June 20th, 1794, sending a document to Governor Samuel Adams about the case. 

The accompanying document is addressed by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to Bailey Bartlett, Esq., Sheriff of the County of Essex. The document confirms the conviction and death sentence for the fourteenth of August. Upon examining this document, it’s clear that this is not the exemplification letter itself, but a response to it. This letter is dated “this twenty seventh day of June,” making it more recent than the document sending the exemplification. It also makes reference to “an exemplification of which under the Seal of our said Court is hereunto annexed.” It appears that the mentioned exemplification was sent on to the Sheriff. Speculating for a moment, I suspect that this is a copy of a letter that was sent with the approved exemplification to the Sheriff of Essex County. The letter is instructing Sheriff Bartlett to perform the execution without fail, “with the advice and consent of the Council,” and stating also “Witness Samuel Adams Esq our Governor and Commander in Chief at Boston.” At this stage, Adams and the Council appear to have shown no hesitancy at approving the execution.

July, 1794

Henry Tufts’ petitions

Next I turned to July of 1794. Almost immediately I found the bundle cited by Pearson, inscribed “Petition of Henry Tufts for a reprieve – July 17, 1794.” I knew that now I was at last holding in my hands a document in Henry Tufts’ own hand. Anyone who studies or is interested in Henry Tufts should understand my excitement – aside from the book itself, this is perhaps the most tangible proof that exists today that Henry Tufts was a real person who lived and died, and that the experiences he describes in the book are largely true. It’s a holy relic of Henry Tufts, and I was now about to see it for myself!

I opened the bundle, and sure enough, there it was in all of its glory, in elegant but less skilled handwriting than many of the other documents around it, with misspellings and all. The plea of “a pore condamd man” who was largely lacking in formal education. The document is larger than I expected, a good twelve inches or more in length, and on narrow paper. Speculating again: was odd scrap paper all that was available in the Ipswich jail for Henry Tufts? I recorded this video to show the document as a whole:

Also in this bundle, I found a curiosity unremarked upon by Pearson: A second copy of Henry’s petition, in neater handwriting and better spelling! They are possibly in the same hand at the start, as the writing has a similar slant particularly in the first few lines, but it gets smaller after the third line, and the text repeats itself by repeating the first name of John Simson on the fourth line, as if perhaps (speculation!) another person took up transcription of the letter for the writer of the first. I’ll speculate here that someone was helping Henry make a copy of his letter, and that at first they were telling him correct spelling, then gave up and wrote the rest of the copy themselves. The signature at the bottom also looks different, especially the Y in Henry. It would appear that the hand writing this one also provided Henry’s signature.

One wonders why Pearson failed to mention this second copy of the letter, as it also resolves Pearson’s occasional bracketed speculations on what the handwriting says when illegible. Pearson quotes “the Sheriff [?] that i sent after my evidence” and “i Bege the power [?]” and both of these turn out to be true to the text of the second petition document. Pearson is proved incorrect later in the document though with “nobody but god for me to help me now as [I am?] in the hands of god,” as this phrase turns out to be “we are.” 

The back of the document also bears some small markings, particularly this arithmetic that doesn’t appear to add up. It seems that this document was written on used paper.

The real mystery here turns out to be why two copies are in the permanent record, especially since one of the two seems to have mostly been written by a different hand. I however will forbear speculation as to how this happened. One can imagine that possibly there was need for an additional copy, and they both ultimately ended up in the same file.

And before we move on, a few words about this letter itself. It’s a very humanizing document for Henry Tufts, and I really feel for him as he writes this. It’s inconceivably horrific to imagine facing your own death at the hands of the state, particularly for a comparatively minor offense such as this. Henry is terrified, and pitiful enough to bring tears to my eyes. “You never would consent for me to die,” is particularly wrenching. He’s reminding Governor Adams of the power he possesses, and asking him to consider if he really wants that. And remarkably, as we’ll see, it may have been this plea alone that saved Henry’s life.

Henry and Abigail’s Petition

Next is the joint petition of Henry and Abigail, dated July 14th, 1794. It is not in the handwriting of the first copy of Henry’s petition, though his signature looks similar to that letter’s handwriting. Abigail, notably, has signed with a cross, and her name and the words “her mark” have been entered by a different hand. It appears that she was illiterate, which I believe was relatively uncommon even for women of her time. 

One notable part of this document is Henry Tufts mitigating his guilt in this case but owning up to having been generally bad in the past: “your Petitioner has been deemed in the Verdict of Burglary against him a more aggravated offender than he was; tho’ he must acknowledge himself a grievous offender in many other particulars.” Indeed. And the full story of that wasn’t told until 1807.

We also have a promise that remarkably, mostly turned out to be true in the end: “But the apprehensions of death, with the fears of his future state, have produced repentance and Terror, upon his mind and should he be suffered longer to live, his better behavior may make some amend to society for the past, and may prepare him for the natural approach of death.” We know from his book and the historical record that he in fact never was convicted of another crime, and, according to his stated purpose in his book anyway, wanted his example to make society better. And that resolve started here.

The letter speculates as well on the reasons for Henry’s conviction: “Your Petitioner cannot but observe that the long time taken by the jury upon his trial, when that the evidence against him was not clear, and gives him reason to fear that he suffers rather by their weariness, than their conviction.” This bears out his later description of the long period of the jury’s deliberations, and the petitions of John Thurston, as we will see shortly.

Finally, the letter includes heartbreaking details about Abigail: “Abigail wife of the said Henry, and mother of five young children by him – now reduced to beggary and want, and who might be supported by the industry of their father, could he be suffered to live.” This statement also cuts to the heart, and makes me hate Henry for what he would ultimately do to Abigail. He would never support her or these children – who are barely mentioned and never numbered in the book – ever again, even after his ultimate escape, breaking off their association through what could be termed a “Dear Jane” letter. He really could be a bastard.

John Thurston’s Petition

Also in this bundle, as promised by Pearson, is juror John Thurston’s petition, dated July 14th 1794. One thing Thurston’s presence here does is demonstrate just how good Henry’s memory must have been, and also his almost certain (if ever in doubt) collaboration with his apparent ghostwriter on his book. It cannot have been possible to easily research these records at the time, and Thurston is not mentioned in any contemporary news article I’ve seen. But Henry Tufts mentions juror Thurstin (his spelling) objecting to the proceedings and writing a petition on his behalf. And here’s that petition! Henry Tufts has accurately remembered the name of a man who he met only once, if at all, who was instrumental in the behind the scenes work of getting his sentence commuted.

Thurston’s petition bears out the long deliberation described by Henry Tufts and in Henry and Abigail’s petition, explaining, “The Evidence upon the Trial left your memorialist [Thurston] in doubt whether the Prisoner had been guilty of the aggravated offence alleged against him. This doubt suspended for many hours the determination of the Jury; but being again called into Court, and the difficulty being stated to the Honorable Justices they undertook to explain it to the Jury as a point of law, and their explanation produced a momentary conviction more especially with your memorialist who at length assented to a verdict against the Prisoner. The conviction was but momentary with your memorialist, and his doubts of the Evidence have recurred upon his mind, with the dreadful consideration, that his weariness or impatience may bring to death a man possibly innocent, or whos guilt as deserving death has not been clearly proved.” I really feel for Thurston here, clearly wracked with conscience for his role in possibly putting a man to death. It may have taken great moral courage for him to stand up to this wrong, and he has my admiration. 

A Stay of Execution

The final document in the July bundle is an official one, dated “the 17th day of July, A.D. 1794 and in the 19. year of the Independence of the United States of America.” This is another document from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, sent “By His Excellency’s Command.” This document shows the tide turning in Henry’s favor. This letter is again addressed to Sheriff Bartlett of Essex County, and cites “whereas the said Henry Tufts has humbly supplicated for a further time to prepare for Death,” that “we therefore by & with the advice of Council of our special grace & favor do hereby direct & command you to suspend & delay the sentence aforesaid until Thursday the 25th day of September next, & do hereby require you then between the hour of 12 & 4 o’clock in the day time, to carry the said Sentence of Death into execution against him, & cause him to be hanged up by the neck until he be dead, as directed in said warrant.” Notable here is the acknowledgement of Henry’s petition as the cause for the stay of execution. It appears that Governor and Council were really reading and considering them. Also notable though is the fact that at this point on July 17, an actual commutation of sentence does not appear to be forthcoming. Whether Henry was informed of this or not – and his side of the story doesn’t mention it – one can definitely believe at this point that for a time anyway, he had no reason to believe he would live much longer than August 14, 1794.

September, 1794

At this point I had exhausted all of the documents promised by Pearson, but decided it was worth looking forward over the next few months in the record to see if there was anything else. There was no August, 1794 bundle in the collection (I found out why later – read on), so I went straight to September. There were in fact more documents to be found there.

Sentence Commuted

In the September bundle, I almost immediately found this item: “Sentence of Death against Henry Tufts commuted to hard labor on Castle island during life, Sept 2d. 1794.” 

A second (first) Thurston petition

Unfolding these documents, the first thing I found was a document that proved to be chronologically out of place. On the back it was addressed “His Excelency Samuel Adams Esqr Governor of this Commonwealth, Boston.” The document itself is dated “June the 25th yr. 1794,” and it turns out to be a first petition by Thurston. Chronologically, this makes it one of the earliest documents in the saga, but somehow it came to be here. It’s clearly meant to be in this section too, as it also bears an added note saying “Petition of Henry Tufts, Advised the said Tufts be pardoned on Condition his punishment be commuted for Life – in Council Sep 2d 1794.” At some point it was assigned or used during September, so it remains there to this day.

The text of Thurston’s plea contains more details about the grueling deliberations: “the Jury withdrew Some ours before the Sun Set and Set untill the next day I think untill ten or Eleven a clock then went into the Cort Not Agreed occasioned by my not being satisfied with the Evidence that was brought against said Tufts I thought the Crime was not sufficiant to condemn him to be Put to Death the Cort ordered the Jury to with draw for a few moments to see if they Could Agree and by Some means or other i was Influnced to give my Consent and Ever Since I have been dissatisfied.” Thurston once again shows a strong conscience, begging Henry Tufts’ life be spared, “in order that I may Enjoy that Peace of mind that is necessary which other ways I think that I shall be deprived of.” Thurston was a good man. I don’t know anything else about what we can learn of him in the historic record, but I think Henry Tufts was lucky to have him, and it appears he may have had some influence, since his petition appears to have been under consideration at the time of the commutation of sentence. 

The commutation document

The second document in the September bundle is a rough draft of a letter written again to Sheriff Bartlett of Essex County, dated September 2, 1794. It bears several corrections and crossed out paragraphs, presumably preceding an actual clean copy that was sent to the Sheriff. It mentions specifically that “the said Henry Tufts has humbly supplicated the Grace and Favor of this Commonwealth that his life might be spared.” It appears that Henry’s own petition specifically must have carried a lot of weight.

Following crossed out paragraphs and boilerplate attestations of authority, the document concludes, “I do therefore by and with the advice of the Council remit the said Henry Tufts the punishment he stands sentenced to suffer upon condition he shall consent# to be removed to Castle Island there to be confined to hard labor during his natural Life. in this case the Sheriff of the County of Essex is hereby directed to remove him accordingly otherwise the former sentence + warrant shall remain in full force + [illegible].” Beside it is an addition, “# and express that consent in writing in the presence of two sufficient witnesses.” Henry Tufts’ life has been finally spared, as long as he agrees to accept life imprisonment instead, in writing. I don’t know if Henry’s signed document still exists, but it is not in this collection. 

It’s notable also that this document, dated September 2, precedes Henry Tufts’ stated date in his book. He states that he was informed of this on September 18, so the timeline once again matches up very well with Henry’s later statements, giving them a greater air of truth.

January 1795 – Transportation to Castle Island

One might think that that would be the end of Henry Tufts materials in this particular collection. After all, he’s got no more petitions to make, and his sentence is a done deal. He was sent to Castle Island. But – he was sent to Castle Island! One thing I noticed as I proceeded through the collection was that occasionally there were records related to sending prisoners to the island. I wondered – could Henry’s be here too? I proceeded on through the records quickly looking for one related to him. I didn’t know when the transportation took place of course, though Henry himself says it didn’t take long after September for him to be transported there. After searching through the last few months of 1794, I finally found it in January, 1795, though the record itself lists Henry’s transportation date as September 22, 1794.

The outside of the document reads, “Wm. Dodge A/a [?] for Removing Prisoners from the County of Essex to Castle Island, 1794 in June 30 Sept 22.” On the inside we find two records of transporting convicts to the island, first a John Brooks in June, and then Henry on September 22. Both convicts have a list of transportation expenses, and a receipt issued by William Perkins, Comdt., presumably the officer in charge of prisoners on the island. Henry’s reads: “Castle Island Sep. 22 1794, This may certify that I have Recd. Henry Tufts a Convict from the County of Essex by Mr. Willm. Dodge Dep Sheriff, Willim. Perkins, Comdt.” It’s remarkable to put an actual date on Henry’s arrival at the Castle.

Also of interest is the receipt for expenses to William Dodge, which come to at total of £6:0:6 (I am uncertain about how expensive this may have been), and include items like multiple breakfasts and dinners (I don’t know what we can conclude from these totals about whether they were covering Henry’s meals, or how many people were on the job for this assignment), and “to my time 2 days.” We’ve also got expenses for horses and carriages, boats, and apparently a return of 40 miles for Dodge, which sounds about right for the distance between Boston and Ipswich today. Overall, another excellent bit of minutiae to add to our understanding of Henry Tufts’ real-life adventures. And to brag for a moment, it’s a real addition I’ve made to the discovery of Tufts-related primary documents, since Pearson makes no mention of it. That alone makes the Boston trip worthwhile!

Pardon Files

I also viewed the Pardon Files while visiting the archives, which include a more official record of the proceedings surrounding Henry Tufts’ travails with the law in Massachusetts. It is not in great detail here, merely described in the Abstracts (1780-1878 Abstracts: Gov Council Main Office: Council Pardon Files: 313 / B / 15 / 4-6). Henry’s details are listed in a table: his crime is  Burglary, with his Warrant date of June 27, Reprieve date of July 17, and Commutation date of September 2.

Council Records

Finally, there was the Council Records book (Vol. 32, 1793-1797), which is another source showing the progress from death sentence to postponement to life imprisonment on Castle Island.

The book is arranged by dates of the Council’s meeting, detailing all of the business of that particular day, with the signatures of the Council members at the end of each day’s business. And here we start to see the shape of the proceedings, why things happen on certain dates in Henry’s case: all of the bundles in the Council Files, all of the important dates of decisions and warrants, are corresponding to days and months of the Council’s meeting: the original warrant is issued on June 27 because that is a Council meeting day; Nothing happens between the Reprieve on July 17 and the Commutation on September 2 because the Council wasn’t meeting then. And this also explains why there are no documents in the Council Files for August – there appears to have been a summer recess, with the new execution possibly intentionally set for after the Council will meet again, allowing for plenty of time to reconsider Henry’s plight!

The record for June 27 shows the approval of the death warrant: “His Excellency the Governor requested the advice of the Council on an exemplification of the sentence of the Supreme Judicial Court against Henry Tufts for burglary – Advised that His Excellency issue a warrant to the Sheriff of the County of Essex, for the execution of the said Henry Tufts on Thursday the fourteenth day of August next, between the hours of twelve + three o’Clock of the day.”

July 17 as expected includes the decision to postpone the death sentence, with Henry Tufts being the last item of business for the day: “His Excellency requested the advice of the Council on a petition of Henry Tufts, a Prisoner in the goal at Ipswich under Sentence of Death, for a reprieve – Advised that His Excellency grant a reprieve to the said Henry Tufts suspending his execution until the last Thursday in September next, being the twenty-fifth day. — Adjourned till Tuesday the 2d Day of September next, being the twenty fifth day.” When viewed in this context, the temporary stay makes complete sense. It was the last item on the last day before a recess, already leaning towards sparing Henry’s life, putting the execution date well after their next meeting when they could think about it again. Though, if Henry is to be believed, he was not informed of this and was left quite anxious on August 14, imagining his death to be imminent.

The September 2 meeting finally decides on the commutation, once again saving Henry for the last item of the day: “His Excellency requested the advice of the Council on a petition of Henry Tufts a prisoner in Ipswich Goal under sentence of Death praying that his life may be spared. Advised that the said Tufts be pardoned on condition that he consent that his punishment be commuted to hard labor on Castle Island during his life.” Here was the first place it was recorded that Henry’s life was to be spared, ensuring his literary legacy which led me to be researching him there in Boston in the first place.

Provisions for Convicts

I didn’t see any other Henry Tufts-related documents there in the archives that day. There may be others, but between me and the archivists, this was all I could find. Looking further on in the Council FIles to 1798, I tried to find things about closing Castle Island prison and the fates of the prisoners there. I did not find that, but in May I located this “Monthly Abstract of Provisions, for the troops of the Garrison on CASTLE-ISLAND,” which includes this statement of “twelve hundred & seventy two rations of Provisions & cloathing for Convicts,” with the signature of William Perkins again, still in command of the prison. Henry Tufts perhaps would have laughed at the assertion that provisions and clothing were delivered for the convicts, as he complains greatly of cold and starvation while confined there.

In Pearson’s footsteps – more court records

The archivists also found for me the remaining court records cited by Pearson about Henry’s April depredations in 1794. These turn out to be digitized, also available on FamilySearch, and are from Suffolk County Court. I was searching mistakenly only in Boston when I did my own search.

Still missing – the Death Warrant

There only remains one Pearson document now unaccounted for: the Death Warrant. Pearson includes an image of its final page, and says nothing about where he located it. Judging from the assistance I received at the State Archives, I do not believe it is kept there. Tantalizingly, the Archivists drew my attention to a number in its corner – 224. It appears to be in a bound volume, though the location of the volume is unknown. I have contacted Essex County and asked if they have any documents this old still in their possession, and have so far received no reply. Judging from what we’ve learned in multiple documents in the State Archives though, I believe Essex is where it most likely resides, as the Council Records frequently refer to sending it to Sheriff Bartlett in Essex. I still hope to locate this document. I suspect the “exemplification” alluded to in some of the documents as well (if it in fact proves to be a different document from the death warrant at all) is probably there as well.

Always missing – Other petitions

Neither Pearson nor I found any trace of additional petitions, such as those mentioned by Henry which were sent by the students of Harvard, or the ladies of Ipswich. It would have been remarkable to see these, but there’s no trace of them even by mention. There still exists a remote possibility of a petition in Harvard’s archives from Henry requesting they speak on his behalf though, which is a matter worth pursuing.

Visiting Castle Island

As I left the Archives, it was nearing lunchtime. I told the archivist I was heading up to Castle Island, and she told me about Sullivan’s Castle Island, a popular local restaurant located right there on the island. This was a strange thought since I’d just been ruminating on a life of misery and want while confined there.

I hit the road and drove north up the coast only a few miles, finding myself parking along a road with a long sidewalk leading towards the island, long since connected to the mainland, adjacent to the massive acreage of fill known as Logan Airport. I had in fact seen the island once before from the air, a year before this visit, while landing at the airport, when I had snapped this aerial view:

Today it was similarly gray, and led me to think once again about Henry’s life of privation on the island. It wasn’t a day of particularly bad February weather, but one could easily agree that it would not be a good place to suffer from lack of food and thin clothing. I recorded this video as I walked up there, thinking about how it compares to what Henry describes.

Arriving at the island, I found Sullivan’s to be closed for the season – my own minor privation of the day. The Civil War-era fort was also closed. This didn’t bother me too much though, since it’s not the same structure in which Henry was imprisoned.

A plaque on the island explained its long and varied history – with the criminal prison getting barely a mention, and Henry’s Castle William not depicted or mentioned. I would have liked to see a mention of Henry Tufts, or the Flash Language, since we know from Henry that this obscure jargon was spoken here. I think visitors to the island would enjoy learning to call their jacket a jarvel or their dog a yapster. Of all of this varied history, it appears that today’s use of the land is the least historically significant – it’s now a recreation area. Though judging from its many uses, that would appear to be for the best.

Walking around the island, it can be very difficult to imagine the reality of the prison Henry was conveyed to back in 1794. When you look towards the city, you see land connecting you with it, not the painfully distant freedom that Henry must have seen. The mowed lawns and sidewalks, the park benches, the trees, the children’s playground – all of this must look nothing like the “little tartarus or hell” that Henry experienced. His experience feels far more alive, more easy to understand when looking at the documents than while walking past a monument next to a recreational fishing pier while planes come in overhead and locals walk their dogs. 

Henry’s spirit can rest easy. Castle Island Prison is deader than he is.