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Drake on the houses and roads of the towns around Boston, and a second attestor of the vernacular names of the same ground.","text_extract":"Ol.l) WAVSnii Mlll.^ .SOiMKliVllJ.li. \n\n\nH \n\n\nMansions and . ../s \n\n\nAROUND BOSTON. \n\n\nBEING \n\n^ Kcin rnxb l^cbtsfti lEtittion \n\nOF \n\n\"OLD LANDMARKS AND HISTORIC FIELDS \nOF MIDDLESEX.\" \n\n\nBY \n\nSAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE. \n\n\nm;aj illluit.rjitfjns. \n\n\nBOSTON: \n\nLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. \n\n1899. \n\n\n5oc. sci \n\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, \n\nBy James R. Osgood and Company, \n\nIn the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. \n\n\nCopyright, 1899, \nBy Little, Brown, and Company. \n\n\nAil rights reserved. \n\n\nSSntbersitg ^tcss : \nJohn Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. \n\n\nTO THE READEE. \n\n\" I stand by the old thought, the old thing, the old place, and the old \nfriend. \" — Lowell. \n\nI TAKE it that we, of this generation, can form Httle con- \nception of the value which every visible token of our \nancestors, however humble, will have for those who shall \ncome after us. And that simple statement carries its own \nmoral. In the broadest and most enlightened sense, we, of \nto-day, are but the passing custodians of all those visible and \nauthentic memorials which Time and Progress have yet \nspared to us. They belong not to us, but to History. We \ncan tear down, but who shall build up again 1 \n\nIt was, in the main, this thought which first prompted the \nwriting of this book. And it is true that, within compara- \ntively few years, something has been realized in that direction \n— thanks to the praiseworthy efforts of our patriotic societies ; \nbut Old Father Time is a relentless iconoclast, even of our \nmost cherished idols, and much more remains to be done if \nwe are to stand fully acquitted of our obligations, not only to \nourselves, but to what may mean so much to posterity. \n\nI have long been convinced that nothing so healthfully \nstimulates the study of history, especially to young people, as \na visit to scenes made memorable by the lives of great men \nor the march of great events. Seeing is believing, the world \nover. Unless one is wholly wanting in imagination, it is \nhardly possible to visit such places without feeling something \nof the living presence of the actors themselves, or fail to \ncarry away far more vivid and lasting impressions than could \nbe received from the most graphic descriptions alone. At all \nevents, there is a vast deal of satisfaction in being able to \n\n\nVI TO THE READER. \n\nsay that we have stood on the very spot where our national \nlife began. \n\nSince you and I, most kind reader, went over the ground \ntogether, covered in these pages, the changes, I had almost \nsaid the havoc, wrought on every side by the steady outreach- \ning of a great and growing city have rendered a thorough \nrevision of the whole work indispensable to a correct reading. \nTo this end, every place mentioned therein has been revisited, \nin order that present conditions might be established. Atten- \ntion is especially called to the illustrations, which do not \nappear in earlier editions, but which form so attractive a \nfeature of this present volume. In having so many places of \nthe highest interest, situated at our own doors, so to speak, \nwe are indeed a favored community, since at almost every \ncorner one may turn some page of history. Every old house \n■we shall visit is a voice speaking to us from out of the Past. \nAt parting, I shall hope you may have no reason to regret \nour companionship. \n\nMay, 1899 \n\n\nCOITTEN^TS. \n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. \n\nEnvirons of Boston. — Charles River. — History of the Bridges. — Lemuel \nCox. — Charlestown in the Olden Time. —John Harvard. — The Night \nSurprise at Doncaster. — William Rainsborrow. — Robert Sedgwick. — \nNathaniel Gorham. — Washington and Hancock. — Jedediah Morse. — \nAnecdote of Dr. Gardiner. — Samuel F. B. Morse. — His first Telegraph. \n\n— Charlotte Cushman's Home. — Her debut in England ... 1 \n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nAN HOUR m THE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. \n\nOrigin of Charlestown Na^'y-Yard. — Wapping. — Nicholson and the \nConstitution. — Commandants of the Yard. — Constitution and Java. \n\n— Commodore Hull. — George Claghom. — The Park of Artillery. — \nCannon in the Revolution. — Compared with Woolwich. — Naval Bat- \ntle in Boston Harbor. — Anecdotes of Lord Nelson. — Tribute to \nAlgiers. — Hopkins. — Paul Jones. — Projectiles. — Invention of the \nAnchor. — The Dry-Dock. — Josiah Barker. — Captain Dewey and the \nConstitution's Figure-Head — Famous Ships buOt here, — Launch of \nthe Merrimac. — Masts, Sheathing, and Conductors. — The Origin of \n\"U. S.\" — Iron Clads. — Landing of Sir William Howe. —Area of the \nYard. — The Naval Institute 26 \n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. \n\nCoup d'odl from the Hill. —British Regiments in the Battle. — Their \nArms, Dress, and Colors. — Anecdotes of the Royal Welsh. — Losses \nand Incidents of the Battle. — Lords Rawdon and Harris. — John \n\n\n■viii CONTENTS. \n\nCoflSn. — Admiral Graves. — Generals Small, Burgoyue, and Pigot. — \nTrumbull's Painting. — The Command. — American Officers engaged. \n\n— Putnam's Exertions. — The Eedoubt. — Other Intrench ments. — \nVestiges of the Works. — Singular Powers of American Officers. — \nFall of Warren. — The Slaughter. — History of the Monuments. — \nBunker Hill Proper and Works. — Middlesex Canal . . . .52 \n\nCHAPTER IV. . \n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. \n\nMilitary Roads in 1775. — Moimt Benedict. — General Lee at the Outpost. \n\n— Morgan's Rifles. — Burning of the Ursuline Convent. — Governor \nWinthrop and Ten Hills. — Robert Temple. — Redoubts at Ten Hills. \n\n— General Sullivan. — Samuel Jaques. — Winter Hill fortified. — View \nof Sullivan's Camp and Fort. — Scammell, Wilkinson, Burr, and Ai'nold. \n\n— Anecdote of Vanderlyn, the Painter. — Dearborn at Monmouth. — \nHessian Encampment. — Will Yankees fight ? 83 \n\nCHAPTER V. \n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. \n\nIts History and Description. — A Colonial Magazine. — Removal of the \nPowder by General Gage. — Washington and the Powder Scarcity. — \nExpedients to supply the Army. — A Legend of the Powder House . 110 \n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MTSTIC. \n\nThe Royall Mansion and Family. — Flight of Colonel Royall. — John \nStark occupies the House. — Anecdotes of Stark. —Bennington and its \nResults. — Prisoners brought to Boston. — The Bennington Gims. — \nLee and Sullivan at Colonel Royall's. — Hobgoblin Hall. — Taverns \nand Travel in former Times. — Old Medford and its Inns. — Shipbuild- \ning. — John Brooks at Bemis's Heights. — Governor Cradock's Planta- \ntion-House. — Political Coup d'itat by the Massachusetts Company. — \nCradock's Agents. — Reflections 119 \n\n\nCHAPTER VII. \n\nlee's HEADQ0AETERS AND VICINITY. \n\nLee's Headquarters. — Was he a Traitor ? — Anecdotes of the General. — \nThe Surprise at Baskingridge. — Meetmg of Washington and Lee at \nMonmouth. — Lee's Will and Death. — Works on Prospect Hill de- \n\n\nCONTENTS. IX \n\nscribed. — General Greene's Command. — Washington's Opinion of \nGreene. — Retires from the Army embarrassed. — Eli Whitney. — How \nthe Provincials mounted Artillery. — Their Resoui'ces in this Arm. — \nMassachusetts Regiment of Artillery. — Small- Arms. — Putnam's Flag- \nRaising. — Deacon Wliitcomb. — Colonel Wesson. — Union Standard \nhoisted. — Quarters of Burgoyne's Troops. — Appearance of British and \nHessians. — Mutinous Conduct of Prisoners. — Tliey are transferred to \nRutland. — They march to Virginia. — Horrible Domestic Tragedy. — \nRemains of the Old Defences 141 \n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. \n\nOLD CHARLESTOWN ROAD, LECHMERE'S POINT, AND \nPUTNAM'S HEADQUARTERS. \n\nExecutions in Middlesex^ — Site of the Gibbet. — Works on Cobble Hill. \n— Sketches^*CoTonel Knox. — He brings Battering Train from C.-'Wwn \nPoint. — Mrs. Knox. — Joseph Barrell. — His Mansion-House. — \nMcLean Asylum. — Miller's River. — Lechmere's Point. — '■ Access to \nin 1775. — Fortification of. — Bombardment of Boston. — The Evacua- \ntion. — Career and Fate of Mike Martin. — Cambridge Lines described. \nRalph Inman's. — Captain John Linzee's Courtship. — Putnam at \nInman's. — Anecdotes of Putnam. — Margaret Fuller. — Allston and \nhis Works 169 \n\n\nCHAPTER IX. \n\nA DAT AT HARVARD. \n\nff \n\nOld Cambridge. — An Episcopal See contemplated. — Dr. Apthorp. — \nBurgojTie's Quarters. — Dana Mansion. — David Phips. — General \nGookin. — First Observatory at Harvard. — Gore Hall and the College \nLibrary. — Father Rale's Dictionary. — His cruel Fate. — The Presi- \ndent's House. — Distinguished Occupants. — Willard. — Kirkland. — \nQuincy. — Everett. — Increase Mather and Witchcraft. — Thomas Dud- \nley. — Topography. — Bradish's Tavern. — First Church. — Old Court- \nHouse and Jail. — Laws and Usages of the Colonists. — Dane Hall. — \nOnly two Attorneys in Massachusetts 195 \n\n\nCHAPTER X. \n\nA DAT AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. \n\nFounding and Account of First College Buildings. — College Press. — \nStephen Daye. — Samuel Greene. — Portraits in Massachusetts Hall. — \nCollege Lotteries. — Governor Bernard. — The Quadrangle. — College \n\n\nX CONTENTS. \n\nCustoms. — The Clubs. — Commencement. — Dress of Students. — Ox- \nford Caps. — George Downing. — Class of 1763. — Outbreaks of the \nStudents. — The American Lines 221 \n\n\nCHAPTEK XI. \n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. \n\nEarly Military Organization by the Colony. — Soldier of 1630. — A \nTroop in 1675. — The Bayonet invented. — Formation of a Provincial \nArmy. — Cambridge Common. — -The Continental Parades. — Arrange- \nment of the Army. — Its Condition in July, 1775. — Want of Distin- \nguishing Colors. — Attempts to uniform. — Army Headquarters. — \nJonathan Hastings. — Explanation of the word \" Yankee.\" — Captain \nBenedict Arnold. — Committee of Safety. — General Ward. — His In- \ntrepidity in Shays's Rebellion. — Warren en route to Bunker Hill. — \nProfessor Pearson. — Abiel Holmes. — 0. W. Holmes. — Lines to Old \nIronsides 245 \n\n\nCHAPTER XII. \n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. \n\nDr. Waterhouse. — Inoculation. — Siege Cannon. — Whitefield's Elm. — \nThe Washington Elm. — The Haunted House. — Important Crises in \nWashington's Career. — Visits the Old South Church. — New England \nChurch Architecture. — Christ Church. — Occupied by Troops. — The \nAncient Burial-Place. — Judge Trowbridge. — Old Brattle House. — \nThomas Brattle. —General Mifflin. —Judge Story. —W. W.. Story.— \nThe Windmill. — Jonathan Belcher. — Benjamin Church's Treachery 264 \n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. \n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. \n\nVisit to Mr. Longfellow. — Colonel John Vassall.— Colonel John Glover. \n— Washington takes Possession. — His personal Appearance, Habits, \nandDress. — Continental Uniform.— Peak's Portrait.— Order of March \n17, 1776. —The General's Military Family. —His Pugnacity. — Chi- \nrography of his Generals. — Monmouth again. — Anecdotes. — \" Lord \" \nStirling and Lady Kitty. — Lafayette and his Family. — French \nGenerals in our Service. —Washington's, Napoleon's, and Wellington's \nOrders. — Councils of War. — Arrival of Mrs. Washington. — The \nHousehold. — Formation of the Body-Guard. — Caleb Gibbs. — Na- \nthaniel Tracy. —Andrew Craigie. —Talleyrand and Prince Edward. — \nJared Sparks and other Occupants. — Longfellow becomes an Inmate 289 \n\n\nCONTENTS. XI \n\nCHAPTER XIV. \n\nOLD TORT KOW AMD BETOND. \n\nSewall Mansion. — Jonathan and John. — General Riedesel. — Prisoners \nof War in 1777. — How the German Flags .were saved. — Judge Lee. — \nThomas Fayerweather. — Governor Gerry's. — Thomas Oliver. — Polit- \nical Craft. — The Gerrymander. — Dr. Lowell. — James Russell Lowell. \n\n— Speculations. — Caroline Gilmau 313 \n\nCHAPTER XV. \n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. \n\nTil oughts. — The Tower. — Pere la Chaise. — Dr. Jacob Bigelow. — \nIndifference which old Cemeteries experience. — Funeral Rites. — \nDuration of Bones. — The Chapel and Statuary. — The Origiu of \nMount Auburn. — Fresh Pond. — A Refuge on the Day of Lexington, \n\n— Nat Wyeth's Expedition to the Pacific. — The Ice-Traffic. — Fred- \nerick Tudor. — Richardson's Tavern. — Cock-Fightiug. — Old Water- \ntown Graveyard. — Rev. George Phillips. — Provincial Congress. — \nRev. William Gordon. — Edes's Printiug-Office. — Sign of Mr. Wilkes. \n\n— John Cook's and the Colony Notes. — Thomas Prentice. — Joseph \nWard. — Michael Jackson. — Nonantum Hill. — General Hull. — The \nApostle Eliot 326 \n\nCHAPTER XVI. \n\nLECHMERE's POINT TO LEXINGTON. \n\nDiscovery of Gage's Plans. — American Preparations for War. — British \nReconnoissance. — Colonel Smith lands at Lechmere's Point. — His \nMarch. — The Country alarmed. — Philip d'Auvergne. — Pitcaim ar- \nrives at Lexington Green. — Who is responsible ? — Topography. — \nBattle Monument. — Disposition of the Dead. — The Clark House. — \nHancock and Adams. — Dorothy Q. — Tlie Battle of Lexington in \nEngland 354 \n\nCHAPTER XVII. \n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. \n\nThe Approach to Concord. —The Wayside. —Hawthorne. —A. Bronson \nAlcott. —Louisa. — May. — R. W. Emerson. — Thoreau. — Concord on \nthe Day of Invasion. — Ephraim Jones and John Pitcairn. — Colonel \nArchibald Campbell. —71st Highlanders. —Anecdote of Simon Fraser. \n— Mill Pond. — Timothy Wheeler's Ruse-de-guerre. —The HUl Bury- \ning-Ground. — The Slave's Epitaph 371 \n\n\nXii CONTENTS. \n\nCHAPTER XVIII. \n\nTHE RETBEAT FROM CONCORD. \n\nThe Battle Monument. — The two Graves. — Position of the Americans. \n\n— The Old Manse. — Hawthorne's Study. — The Old House over the \nWay. — The Troops retreat. — John Brooks attacks them. — A Rout \ndescribed. — A Percy to the Rescue. — The Royal Artillery. — Old \nMunroe Tavern. — Auxiety in Boston. — Warren and Heath take Part. \n\n— Action in Menotomy. — Eliphalet Downer's Duel. — His Escape \nfrom a British Prison. — The Slaughter at Jason Russell's. — Incidents. \n\n— Percy escapes. — Contemporary Accoiuits of the Battle. — Mouu- ; \nments at Acton and Arlington 386 \n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. \n\nAT THE WATSIDE INN. \n\nSouth Sudbury. — Outbreak of Philip's War, — Measures in the Colony. \n\n— Marlborough attacked. — Descent on Sudbury. — Defeat and Death \nof Captain Wadsworth, — Wadswortli Monument. — Relics of Philip. \n\n— The Wayside Inn. — Ancient Taverns vs. Modern Hotels. — The \nInterior of the Wayside. — Early Post- Routes in New England. — Jour- \nney of Madam Knight in 1704 410 \n\n\nCHAPTER XX. \n\nTHE HOME OF RDMFORD. \n\nBirthplace of Count Rumford. -- His Early Life. — The Old Shop near \nBoston Stone. — Ruraford's Marriage, Arrest, and Flight. — Bequest to \nHarvard College. — Portrait of the Count. — Thomas Graves, the \nAdmiral 426 \n\n\nFULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. \n\nPage \nOld \"Wayside Mill, Somerville Frontispiece \n\nMap of Boston and Environs, 1775 1 \n\nRoyall Mansion, Medford 119 \n\nCradock's Plantation House, Medford 133 \n\nTufts Mansion (Gen. Lee's Headquarters), Somerville 141 \n\nInman House, Cambridge 187 \n\nApthorp Mansion, Cambridge 197 \n\nPresident's House, Cambridge 206 \n\nAncient College Buildings, Cambridge 224 \n\nBirthplace of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Cambridge 255 \n\nChrist Church, Cambridge 274 \n\nCraigie-Longfellow Mansion, Cambridge 300 \n\nElrawood (J. R. Lowell's), Cambridge 317 \n\nLexington Green in 1775 (Drawing of the Time) 360 \n\nBuckman's Tavern, Lexington 361 \n\nHancock-Clark Parsonage, Lexington 364 \n\nParsonage Kitchen, Lexington 368 \n\nPlace of Revere's Capture, Lincoln 371 \n\nOld Manse, Concord 390 \n\nMeriam's Corner, Concord 393 \n\nThe \"Wayside Inn, South Sudbury 410 \n\nBirthplace of Count Rumford, \"Wobum 425 \n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS ON WOiH). \n\n\nPage \n\nBelcher Arms .... 285 \n\nBelcher {Portrait) ... 285 \n\nBunker Hill from the Navy- Yard, about Vy'Ji .... 26 \n\nBunker Hill Monument . , 52 \n\nBritish Flag captured at Yorktown 54 \n\nBrattle Arms ... 281 \n\nBroken Gravestone 276 \n\nCannon and Carriage used before Boston . . . .153 \n\nCannon dismantled .\"........, 33 \n\nCharlestown Navy- Yard in 1873 36 \n\n\" 1858 . . ■ 38 \n\nChaunct Arms 208 \n\nFlag of Washington's Life-Guard . 308 \n\nFlag of Morgan's Rifles .... ... 87 \n\nFort on Cobble Hill 172 \n\nGooKiN Arms 200 \n\nGore Hall, 1873 202 \n\nGreat Harry 35 \n\nHarvard College Lottery Ticket {Fac-similf of ■m. Original) . 227 \n\nHarvard's Monument . . . , 11 \n\nHessian Flag ' 106 \n\nKing Philip (from an old Print) . ...... 414 \n\nLexington Monument 362 \n\nL:/Well Arms .... 322 \n\nMount Auburn Gateway 326 \n\n\"...lOUNT Auburn Chapel . . 335 \n\n\nXvi ILLUSTRATIONS. \n\nNix's Mate 170 \n\nQuadrangle Harvard College 231 \n\nSewall-Riedesel Mansion 313 \n\nSign of the Wayside Inn . . . ' -. . . . . 421 \n\nSmith, Captain John 3 \n\nStanch and Strong 39 \n\nTrophies of Bennington 1 \n\nUksoline Convent in Ruins 91 \n\nWashington Statue (Ball's) 295 \n\nWendell Arms 255 \n\nWashington Elm, 1873 . . . 267 \n\nWiLLARD Arms 207 \n\n\nCHAPTEE L \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. \n\n\"A sup of New England's Aire is better than a whole clranght of Old \n\nEngland's Ale.\" \n\nTHE charming belt of country around Boston is full of in- \nterest to Americans. It is diversified Adth every feature \nthat can make a landscape attractive. Town clasps hands \"wdth \ntown until the girdle is complete where Nahant and Nantasket \nsit \"with theu\" feet in the Atlantic. The whole region may be \ncompared to one vast park, where nature has wrought in savage \ngrandeur what art has subdued into a series of delightful \npictures. No one portion of the zone may claim precedence. \nThere is the same shifting panorama visible from every rugged \nheight that never fails to delight soul and sense. We can \nliken these suburban abodes to nothing but a string of precious \ngems flung around the neck of Old Boston. \n\nNor is this all. Whoever cherishes the memory of brave \ndeeds — and who does not? — will find here the arena in which \nthe colonial stripling suddenly sprang erect, and planted a blow \nfull in the front of the old insular gladiator, — a blow that made \nhim reel wdth the shock to liis very centre. It was here the \n\n• 1 • A \n\n\n2 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\npeople of the \" Old Thirteen \" first acted together as one nation, \nand here the separate streams of their existence united in one \nmighty flood. The girdle is not the less interesting that it \nrests on the ramparts of the Revolution. \n\nIt is in a great measure true that what is nearest to us we \nknow the least about, and that we ignorantly pass over scenes \nevery day, not a whit less interesting than those by which we \nare attracted to countries beyond the seas. An invitation to a \npilgrimage among the familiar objects which may be viewed \nfrom the city steeples, while it may not be comparable to a tour \nin the environs of London or of Paris, will not, our word for it, \nfail to supply us with materials for reflection and entertain- \nment. Let us beguile the way with glances at the interior home- \nlife of our English ancestors, while inspecting the memorials \nthey have left behind. Their habitations yet stand by the \nwayside, and if dumb to others, will not altogetlier refuse their \nsecrets to such as seek them in the Hght of historic truth. We \nshall not fill these old halls with lamentations for a greatness \nthat is departed never to return, but remember always that \nthere is a living present into which our lives are framed, and \nby which the civilization of what we may call the old regime \nmay be tested. \"Where we have advanced, we need not fear \nthe ordeal ; where we have not advanced, we need not fear to \navow it. \n\n\"We suppose ourselves at the water-side, a wayfarer by the old \nbridge leading to Charlestown, Avith the tide rippling against \nthe wooden piers beneath our feet, and the blue sky above call- \ning us afield. The shores are bristling with masts which \ngleam like so many polished conductors and cast their long \nwavy shadows aslant the watery mirror. Behind these, houses \nrise, tier over tier, mass against mass, from which, as if dis- \ndainful of such company, the granite obeUsk sprmgs out, and \nhigher yet, a landmark on the sea, a Pharos of liberty on \nthe shore. \n\n-^ The Charles, to which Longfellow has dedicated some charm- \ning lines, though not actually seen by Smith, retained the name \nwith which he christened it. It was a shrewd guess in the \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. \n\n\nbold navigator, that the numerous islands he saw in the bay \nindicated the estuary of a great river penetrating the interior. \nIt is a curious feature of the map which Smith made of the \ncoast of New England in 1614, that the names of Plymouth, \nBoston, Cambridge, and many other towns not settled until \nlong afterwards, should be there laid down. Smith's map was \nthe first on which the name of New England appeared. \n\nIn the pavement of St. Sepulchre, London, is Smith's tomb- \nstone. The inscription, except the three Turk's heads, is totally \neffaced, but the church authorities have promised to have it \nrenewed as given by Stow. \n\n'■'^The subject of bridging the river from the old ferry- way at \nHudson's Point to the opposite shore — which is here^ of_about \nthe^same breadth \nas the Thame_s^ at \nLondon Bridge \n— was agitated as \nearly as 1712, or \nmore than seventy \nyears before its \nfinal accompHsh- \nment. In 1720 \nthe attempt was \nrenewed, but \nwhUe the utility \nof a bridge was \n\n\nconceded, it was \nnot considered a \npracticable under- \ntaking. After the \nEevolution the \n\n\nCAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. \n\n\nproject was again revived, and a man was found equal to the \noccasion. An ingenious shipwright, named Lemuel Cox, was \nthen living at Medford, who insisted that the enterprise was \nfeasible. Some alleged that the channel of the river was too \ndeep, that the ice would destroy the structure, and that it \nwould obstruct navigation ; while by far the greater number \n\n\n4: HISTORIC MANSIOISiS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nrejected the idea altogether as chimerical. But Cox persevered. \nHe brought the influential and enterprising to his views ; a \ncharter was obtained, and this energetic and skilful mechanic \nsaw the bridge he had so dexterously planned in his brain be- \ncome a reality. Captain John Stone, of Concord, Mass., was \nthe architect of this bridge. His epitaph in the old burying- \nground there says he was a man of good natural abilities, which \nseemed to be adorned with modern virtues and Christian graces.^ \nHe died in 1791. \n\nThe opening of the structure upon the anniversary of the \nbattle of Bunker Hill, and only eleven years after that event, \nattracted upwards of twenty thousand spectators. The day \nwas ushered in by a discharge of thirteen cannon from the \nopposite heights of Breed's Hill, Charlestown, and Copp's Hill, \nBoston, accompanied by repeated peals from the bells of Christ \nChurch. At one o'clock, p. m., the proprietors assembled in \nthe State House for the purpose of conducting the several \nbranches of the Legislature over the bridge. The procession, \nwhich included not only the public officials, but almost every \nindividual of prominence in the community, moved from State \nStreet, amid a salute from the Castle, and upon its arrival at \nthe bridge the attendant companies of artillery formed two \nlines to the right and left, through which the cort-ege passed \non to the middle of the bridge, where it halted. The Presi- \ndent of the Corporation, Thomas Eussell, then advanced alone, \nand directed Mr. Cox to fix the draw for the passage of the \ncompany, which was immediately done. The procession con- \ntinued its march to Breed's Hill, where two tables, each three \nhundred and twenty feet long, had been laid, at which eight \nhundred guests sat down and prolonged the festivities until \nevening. \n\nWhen built, this was the longest bridge in the world, and, \nexcept the abutments, was entirely of wood. Until West \nBoston Bridge was constructed, in 1793, it yielded a splendid \nreturn to the proprietors ; but the latter surpassed it not only \nin length, but in beauty of architecture, and, with the cause- \nway on the Cambridge side, formed a beautiful drive or prom- \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. ' 5 \n\nenade of about two miles in extent. It also lessened the dis- \ntance from Cambridge to Boston more than a mile. In 1828 \nWarren Bridge was opened, but not without serious opposition \nfrom the proprietors of the old avenue ; and the two bridges \nmight not inaptly have served some native poet for a colloquy \nas famous as that of the rival \" Brigs of Ayr.\" • \n\n\" Nae langer thrifty citizens an' douce \nMeet owre a pint, or in tlie Conncil-house ; \nBnt staumvel, corky-headed, graceless Gentry, \nTlie herrynient and ruin of the country; \nMen three-parts made by Tailors and by Barbers, \nWha' waste your well hain'd gear on d — d neio Brigs and Harbours ! \" \n\nThe ferry, which was the original mode of transit between \nthe two peninsulas, was established ia'. 1()?5, and ourne, a Boston shipwright, \nmajor, and .lolm Leven-tt, afti'rwards governor, a captain; \n\"William Hudson, supposed to be of Ilosion, also, was ensign. \n\nIn the year IG18, the Yoi'kshire royalists, who had been \nliving in rpiiet since the hrst war, Avere again exciteil by intel- \nligence of I)uke Hamilton's intended invasion. A plan was \nlaid and successfully carried out to surprise Pomfn-t Castle, \n(sometimes called I'dntcfiact) the greatest and strongest castle \nin all England, and then held by (\"olniii'l ('ottend as governor \nfor the Parliament. The ('astle was soon lieseiged by Sir I'.d- \nAvard Phodes and Sir Henry Cholmondly with live thousand \nregular troops, but the royal garrison maile good their concpiest. \n\nTt being liktdy to prove a tedious affair. General Pains- \nborrow Avas sent from London by the Parliament to jmt a \nspeedy end to it. He Avas estei'Uied a gi'uerid of great skill \nami courage, exceedingly zealous in the Protector's service, \nAvith a reputation gained l)oth by laml and sea, — he having \nbeen, for a time. Admiral of Cromwell's Ihu't. Paius])orrow \npittdied his head(piarters, for the present, at l)on(;aster, twelve \nmiles from Poiufret, with tAvclve hundivd foot and two regi- \nments of horse. \n\nThe castle garrison having learned of Hannltoii's defeat at \nPreston, and tliat Sir ^larmaduke Pangdale, who commandeil \nthe English in that battle, was a prisoner, formed the bold \ndesign of seizing (leneial l.'ainsbinrow in his camp, and hold- \ning hinr a hostag(! for Sir Marniaduke. The design seemi'd \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. . 13 \n\nthe more feasible, because the general and his men were in no \napprehension of any surprise ; the castle being twelve miles \ndistant, closely besieged, and the only garrison for the King in \nEngland. \n\nThe plan was shrewdly laid, favored by circumstances, and \nwas completely successful except that instead of bringing the \ngeneral off they were obliged to kill him. With only twenty- \ntwo picked men, well mounted, Captain William Paulden \npenetrated into Doncaster undiscovered. The guards were \nforced and dispersed, while a party of four made for the gen- \neral's lodgings. At the door they were met by his lieutenant, \nwho, on their announcing that they had come with despatches \nfrom General Cromwell, conducted them to the general's cham- \nber, where he was in bed. While the general was opening the \ndespatch, in which was nothing but blank paper, the king's \nmen told him he was their prisoner, but that not a hair of his \nhead should be touched, if he went quietly along with them. \nThey then disarmed his lieutenant, who had so innocently \nfacilitated their design, and brought them both out of the \nhouse. A horse was prepared for the general, and he was \ndirected to mount, which he at first seemed willing to do, and \nput his foot in the stirrup, but looking about him and seeing \nonly four enemies, while his lieutenant and sentinel (whom \nthey had not disarmed) were standing by him, he pulled his \nfoot out of the stirrup, and cried A7'ms ! Arms I \n\nUpon this, one of his enemies, letting fall his sword and \npistol, — for he did not wish to kill the general, — caught hold \nof Rainsborrow, who grappled with him, and both fell to the \nground. The general's lieutenant then picked up the trooper's \npistol, but was instantly run through the body by Paulden's \nlieutenant, whUe in the act of cocking it. A third stabbed \nEainsborrow in the neck ; yet the general gained his feet with \nthe trooper's sword, with whom he had been strugghng, in his \nhand. The lieutenant of the party then passed his sword \nthrough his body, when the brave but ill-fated Rainsborrow \nfell dead upon the pavement. \n\nAnother of Charlestown's worthies whom we cite was \n\n\n14: HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nRobert Sedgwick, who became a major-general under the \nProtector, and is mentioned by Carlyle. Sedgwick was a \nfavorite with the \"Usurper ii>, .u<- wjis rdiwn oy nie lungs \nparty, who sent him with a WGll-appointed fleet to Jamaica, \nto replace D'Oyley, a cavalier, M'ho, n(>tV^'''-tailding FT\" cici-^s \nin the West Indies, was diylik^ d by C'fl^j^nvftjl. Ci'1%^\"' ', fyid? \nwdth his usual astuteness, encouraged the cavaliers to embark in \nthe conquest of Jamaica, -wlierc rich booty' w.^? expected and \nwhence feM^ of them retui'ned. Sedgwick, unaccustomed to \nthe climate and mode of life, died before he had an oppor- \ntimity of accomplishing anything. \n\nAn original portrait of Leverett in his military garb shows \nhim to be every inch a soldier. He is painted in a bufif sur- \ncoat fastened wdth steel frogs, and has a stout blade with steel \nhilt and guard suspended by an embroidered shoulder-belt, at \nhis thigh. \n\n\" His waistcoat was of stubborn Buif, \nSome say Fuizee and Pouyard proof\" ; \n\nhis head is uncovered, and his curling black locks and beard \nset off a bronzed and martial countenance. Plumed hat, high \njack-boots, and gauntlets complete a military attire of the \ntime by no means unbecoming. \n\nNathaniel Gorham, a resident of Town Hill, whose name \nappears among the projectors of Charles Eiver Bridge, was a \nman eminent in the councils of the State and the nation. He \nwas a member of both the Fu'st and Second Provincial Con- \ngress ; of the General Court, the Board of War, and of the \nState Constitutional Convention. A delegate to the Conti- \nnental Congress in 1782-83, and president of that body in \n1 786 ; he was also a member of Governor Hancock's council in \n1789, at the time of AVashington's \"vdsit. His account of the \ndifference wliich arose between the President and the Governor, \nas to which should pay the first visit, and which it is believed \nis now for the first time in print, sheds some new light on that \naffair which at the time convulsed aU circles of the Massachu- \nsetts capital. In regard to the assertion that the Governor \nexpected the first call, Mr. Gorham says: — \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 15 \n\n\" There is nothing further from the truth than this idea; and I do \nnot speak from uncertainties, for the Council was sitting every day \nfor a week before the President's arrival, and met almost every day \nat the Governor's house to concert proper measures for his reception. \nI was ehensive F'\"\"-pthing like what has happened might take \n\nnlace, r oposed laai i:\\e address which the Governor and Coun- \n\ncil Had agreed to make should be delivered at Cambridge, where the \nLieutenant-Governor and Coimcil first saw the President, with a \nletter from the Governor, or an authorized message, that his indis- \nposition prevented his attending with the Council : but this idea \nwas not supported. The Governor did not oppose it, but on the \ncontrary declared in the most explicit terms that he had no doubt \nin his mind of the propriety of his making the first visit. This was \non Friday. On Satui'day the President arrived, and not choosing \nto coine up to the Governor's to dine, the Lieutenant Governor and \ntwo of his Council went down to his lodgings in the evening, \nauthorized by the Governor to make the most explicit declaration \nas to the point in question. This brought some explanation from \nthe President by which it appeared that he had been misinformed \nas to the state of the Governor's health ; for he had been led to \nbelieve that the Governor had dined out some days before, and had \nrode out every day the preceding week, when to my knowdedge he \nhad not been out of his chamber. But the explanation made by the \nCouncil on Saturday evening and the Governor's visit on Sunday \nsoon removed eveiy difficulty.\" \n\nIt vras during this visit that an incident occurred illustrat- \ning Washington's rigid punctuality. He had appointed eight \no'clock in the morning as the hour in which he should set out \nfor Salem ; and while the Old South clock was striking eight, \nhe was mounting his horse. The company of cavalry which \nwas to escort him, not anticipating this strict punctuality, were \nparading in Tremont Street after his departure ; and it was not \nuntil the President had reached Charles Eiver Bridge, where \nhe stopped a few minutes, that the troop overtook Mm. On \npassing the corps, the President with perfect good-nature said, \n\" Major Gibbs, I thought you had been too long in my family, \nnot to know when it was eight o'clock.\" Charlestown was the \nfirst town in Massachusetts to institute public funeral honors \non the death of this great man. \n\n\n16 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHV' \n\nWhat was particularly remarkable in Mr. Gorham was his \nperspicacity with regard to the destiny of tlie great \"West. This \nled him, at a time when there was neither public nor private \ncredit, to purchase, in connection with Oliver Phelps, an im- \nmense tract of land then belonging to Massachusetts, lying on \nthe Genesee, in New York. The area of the purchase com- \nprises ten or twelve counties and includes hundreds of flourish- \ning towns. \n\nJedediah Morse, the father of American geography, and \nminister of the fivst church in Charlestown from 1789 to 1820, \ndescribes Charlestown in his Gazetteer of 1797 as containin\" \ntwo hundred and fifty houses and twenty-five hundred in- \nhabitants, with no other public buildings of rote than the \nCongregational meeting-house and almshouse. A traveller \nwho visited the place in 1750 says it then had two hundred \nhouses, and was a pleasant little toAvn \" where the Bostoneers \nbuild many vessels.\" The destruction of the town and disper- \nsion of the inhabitants caused the exemption of that part lying \nwithin the Neck, that is to say the peninsula, from fiu'nishing \ntroops for the Continental army in 1776. In 1784 Nathaniel \nGorham was sent to England on a singular mission by the suf- \nferers from the burning of the town in 1775, — it being for no \nother purpose than to solicit aid for the consequences of an act \nof war. The mission resulted in failure, as it deserved, and \nwas condemned by the thinking portion of the community, who \ndid not believe we could afford to, ask alms of those whom we \nhad just forced to acknowledge our independence. \n\nDr. Morse's first work on geography for the use of schools \nwas prepared at New Haven in 1 784. This was soon followed \nby larger works on the same subject and by gazetteers, com- \npiled from the historical and descriptive works of the time, and \naided by travel and correspondence. We cannot withhold our \nastonishment when we look into one of these early volumes ; \nfor it is only by tliis means we realize the immense strides our \ncountry has been taking since the Eevolution, or that a vast \nextent of territory, then a wilderness, has now become the seat \nof political power for these states and the granary from whence \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 17 \n\nhalf Europe is fed. What was then laid down as a desert is now \nseamed by railways and covered with cities and villages. The \nearly volumes of the Massachusetts Historical Society contained \nmany valuable topographical and descriptive papers contributed \nby Drs. Belknap, Holmes, Bentley, and others, and of which \nDr. Morse, an influential member of the society, in all proba- \nbility availed himself in his later works. \n\nGeography was an original passion with Dr. Morse, which it \nis said rendered him so absent-minded that once, being asked \nby his teacher at a Greek recitation where a certain verb was \nfound, he replied, \" On the coast of Africa.\" \"V\\''hile he was a \ntutor at Yale, the want of geographies there induced him to \nprepare notes for his pupils, to serve as text books, which he \neventually printed. Such was the origin of his labors in this \nfield of learning. \n\nThe clergy have always been our historians, and New Eng- \nland annals would be indeed meagre, but for the efforts of ; \nHubbard, Prince, the Mathers, Belknap, Gordon, Morse, \nHolmes, and others. As Hutchinson drew on Hubbard, so \nall the writers on the Eevolution derive much of their material \nfrom Gordon, whose work, if it did not satisfy the intense \nAmerican feeling of his day, seems at this time remarkable for \nfairness and truth. The meridian of London, where Dr. Gor- \ndon's work first appeared, was freely said to have impaired his \nnarrative and to have caused the revision of his manuscript to \nthe suppression of whatever might wound the susceptibilities \nof his English patrons. \n\nDr. Morse engaged much in controversy, Unitarianism hav- \ning begun publicly to assert itself in his time, and in some in- \nstances to obtain control of the old Orthodox houses of wor- \nship. The struggle of Dr. Holmes to maintain himself against \nthe wave of new ideas forms a curious chapter in religious con- \ntroversial history. The energy -with which Jedediah Morse \nengaged in the conflict seriously affected his health, but he \nkept his church true to its original, time-honored doctrines. \nDr. Morse, who was the townsman and classmate of Dr. Holmes, \nis understood to have introduced the latter at Cambridge. \n\n\n18 HisTOMC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nOn some occasion, Dr. Gardiner of Trinity Church, Boston, \nwho, by the way, was a pupil of the celebrated Dr. Parr, went to \npreach in the church at Cambridge, and, as a matter of course, \nmany of the professors went to hear him. Unitarianism had ap- \npeared in the Episcopal, as well as the Congregational Church. \n\nDr. Gardiner began his discourse somewhat in this wise : \n\" My brethren, there is a new science discovered ; it is called \nBiblical criticism. Do you want to know what Biblical criti- \ncism is ■? I will tell you. \n\n' Off -with his head ! So much for Buckingham.' Cooke. \n' Off with his head ! So much for Buckingham.' Kemble. \n\nMr. Cooper says neither are right, but that it should be ren- \ndered, ' Off with his head ! so much for Buckingham ! ' My \nfriends that is Biblical criticism.\" We leave the reader to \nimagine the effect upon the grave and reverend professors of \nthe College. \n\nDr. Morse was sole editor of the Panoplist from 1806 to \n1811, and was prominent in establishing the Andover Theo- \nlogical Seminary. He engaged at times in missionary work, \nthe records of marriages performed by him at the Isles of \nShoals being still in existence there. One of his last labors \nwas a visit to the Indian tribes of the Northwest, under the \ndirection of the government, a report of which he published in \n1832. \n\nAt the time of the excitement in New England against \nsecret societies, when the most direful apprehensions existed \nthat religion itself was to be overthrown by Free-Masonry, the \nlUuniinati, or bugbears of a similar character, Dr. Morse was \none of the overseers of Harvard College and a distinguished \nalarmist. As such, be opposed Avith all his might the proposal \nof the Phi Beta Kappa Society to publish \" The Literary Mis- \ncellany,\" which afterwards appeared under their auspices. It \nwas conjectured that this literary association, with its then \nunrevealed Greek initials, was an off-shoot of some order of \nMasonry, and hence the Doctor's vigilance to prevent the en- \ntrance of any corrupting influences within the walls of the \nseminary. \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 19 \n\nThe old parsonage which was the residence of Dr. Morse \nwas situated in what is now Harvard Street, between the City \nHall and Church, the house standing quite near the latter, \nwhile the garden extended down the hill on the ground now \noccupied by Harvard Eow, quite to the City Hall. It was a \ntwo-story wooden house, removed many years since from its \nhistoric site on the ancient Town Hill. \n\nDr. Morse's more distinguished son, Samuel Finley Breese, \nknown to all the world for making electricity the instantaneous \nmessenger of his will, first saw the light under the shadow of \nBunker Hill. His eulogy, thanks to his own invention, was \npronounced simultaneously from St. Petersburg to California; \nhis memory received the homage of crowned heads, as well as \nof our own republican court, such as has rarely, if ever, been \naccorded to any explorer in the pathways of science. As the \nsavans of the Old World have in times past bowed before a \nFranklin, a Eumford, and a Bowditch, they have once more \nbeen called upon to inscribe in their high places of honor the \nname of an American. \n\nSamuel F. B. Morse was not born at the parsonage, but in \nthe house of Thomas Edes, on Main Street, to which Dr. \nMorse had removed while his own roof was undergoing some \nrepairs. The house, which is also noted as the first erected \nin Charlestown after its destruction in 1775, stands at the \ncorner of Main Street Court at a little distance from the Uni- \ntarian Church, is of wood, and has three stories. \n\nYoung Morse seconded liis father's passion for geography by \none as strongly marked for drawing, and the blank margin of \nhis Virgil occupied far more of his thoughts than the text. \nHis penchant for art, exhibited in much the same manner as \nAUston's, his future master, did not meet with the same en- \ncouragement. A caricature, founded upon some fracas among \nthe students at Yale, and in which the faculty were burlesqued, \nwas seized, handed to President Dwight, and the author, who \nwas no other than our friend Morse, called up. The delinquent \nreceived a severe lecture upon his waste of time, violation of \ncollege laws, and filial disobedience, without exhibiting any \n\n\n20 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nsigns of contrition ; but when at length Dr. D'W'ight said to \nhim, \" Morse you are no painter ; this is a rude attempt, a com- \nplete failure,\" he was touched to the quick, and could not keep \nback the tears. On being questioned by his fellow-students as \nto what Dr. Dwight had said or done, \" He says I am no \npainter ! \" roared Morse, cut to the heart through his darhng \npassion. \n\nA canvas, executed by Morse at the age of nineteen, of the \nLanding of the Pilgrim's may be seen at the Charlestown City \nHall. He accompanied AUston to Europe, where he became a \npupil of West, and, it is said, also, of Copley, though the latter \ndied two years after Morse reached England. He exhibited \nhis \"Dying Hercules\" at the Eoyal Academy in 1813, re- \nceiving subsequently from the London Adelphi a pri^e gold \nmedal for a model of the same in plaster. In 1815 he returned \nto America and pursued portrait painting, his price being fifteen \ndollars for a picture. Morse became a resident of New York \nabout 1822, and painted Lafayette Avhen the latter visited this \ncountry shortly after. \n\nVarious accounts have been given of the manner in which \nMorse first imbibed the idea of making electricity the means \nof conveying intelligence, the one usually accepted being that, \nwhile returning from Europe in 1832, on board the packet \nship Sully, a fellow-passenger related some experiments he had \nAvitnessed in Paris with the electro-magnet, which made such \nan impression upon one of his auditors that he walked the \ndeck the whole night. Professor Morse's own account was that \nhe gained his knowledge of the working of the electro-magnet \nwhile attending the lectures of Dr. J. Freeman Dana, then \nprofessor of chemistry in the University of New York, delivered \nbefore the New York Athenaeum. \" I witnessed,\" says Morse, \n\"the effects of the conjunctive wires in the different forms \ndescribed by him in his lectures, and exhibited to his audience. \nThe electro-magnet was put in action by an intensity battery ; \nit was made to sustain the M'eight of its armature, when the \nconjunctive wire was connected with the poles of the battery, \nor the circuit was closed ; and it was made ' to drop its load ' \nupon opening the circuit.\" \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 21 \n\nMorse's application to the Twenty-Seventh. Congress for aid \nto put his invention to the test of practical illustration was \nonly carried by a vote of eighty-nine to eighty-seven. The in- \nventor went to Washington with exhausted means and heartsick \nwith despondency. Two votes saved, perhaps, this wonderful \ndiscovery to American invention. With the thirty thousand \ndollars he obtained, Morse stretched his first wires from Wash- \nington to Baltimore, — we say wires, because the principle of \nthe ground circuit was not then known, and only discovered, we \nbelieve, by accident, so that a wire to go and another to return \nbetween the cities was deemed necessary by Morse to complete \nhis first circuit. The first wire was of copper. \n\nThe first message, now in the custody of the Connecticut \nHistorical Society, was dictated by Miss Annie G. Ellsworth. \nWith trembling hand Morse must have spelled out the words, — \n\n\" What Hath God Wrought ! \" \nWith an intensity of feeling he must have waited for the \" aye, \naye \" of his distant correspondent. It was done ; and the iron \nthread, freighted with joy or woe to men or nations, now throbs \nresponsive to the delicate touch of a child. It now springs up \nfrom the desert in advance of civilization ; its spark o'erleaps \nthe ocean and well-nigh spans the globe itself. No man can \nsay that its destiny is accomplished ; but we have lived to grasp \nthe lightning and play with the thunderbolt. \n\nThe telegraph was at first regarded with a superstitious dread \nin some sections of the country. Will it be credited that in a \nSouthern State a drouth was attributed to its occult influences, \nand the people, infatuated with the idea, levelled the wires with \nthe ground 1 The savages of the plains have been knoM^n to \nlie in ambush watching the mysterious agent of the white man, \nand listening to the humming of the wires, which they vaguely \nassociated with evil augury to themselves. So common was it \nfor the Indians to knock off the insulators with their rifles, in \norder to gratify their curiosity in regard to the \" singing cord,\" \nthat it was, at first, extremely difficult to keep the lines in re- \npair along the Pacific railway. \n\nAs you go towards Charlestown Neck, when about half-way \n\n\n22 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nfrom the point where Main and Warren Streets unite, you see \nat your right hand the old-fashioned two-story wooden house \nin which Charlotte Cushman passed some of her early life. \n\nShe was born in Boston, in that part of the town ycleped \nthe North End, and in an old house that stood within the \npresent enclosure of the Hancock School yard. It should not \nhe forgotten that that sterling actor, John Gilbert, was born in \nthe next house. Here young John spoke his first piece and \nhere the great curtain was rung up for little Charlotte. When \nthe Kghts shall be at last turned off, and darkness envelop the \nstage, there will be two wreaths of ivimortelles to be added to \nthe tributes which that famed old quarter already claims for its \nlong roll of celebrated names. \n\nIt is related that, when a child, Charlotte was one day in- \ncautiously playing on Long Wharf, where her father kept a \nstore, and there fell into the water. She was rescued and \ntaken home dripping wet, but instead of an ecstatic burst of joy \nat the safety of her darling, her mother gave her a sound whip- \nping. Perhaps this was only one of those sudden revulsions \nwhich Tom Hood exemplifies in liis \" Lost Heir.\" \n\nAfter her removal to Charlestown Charlotte went to Miss \nAustin's school. This lady was a relative of William Austin, \nthe author of \" Peter Rugg.\" Charlotte was a good scholar, \nand almost always had the badge of excellence suspended from \nher neck. She Avas A'^ery strong physically, as some of her \nschoolmates bear witness to this day. Although she displayed \nconsiderable aptitude as a reader, her predilection was, at this \ntime, altogether in favor of a musical career, and she cultivated \nher voice assiduously to that end. \n\nHer first appearance in public was at a social concert given \nat the hall No. 1 Franklin Avenue, in Boston, March 25th, \n1830, where she was assisted by Mr.\" Farmer, Mr. John F. \nPray, Messrs. Stedman, Morris, and others. She also sang at \none of Mrs. Wood's Concerts, and that lady, pleased with her \nfine contralto voice, advised her to turn her attention to the \nlyric drama. Mr. Maeder, the husband of Clara Fisher, brought \nher out as the Countess, in Les Noces de Figaro, in April, 1835, \nat the Tremont Theatre. \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 23 \n\nHer voice failing, she determined to adopt the acting branch \nof the profession, and studied under the direction of W. E. \nBurton, the celebrated comedian. Having mastered the part \nof Lady Macbeth, she appeared with complete success at the \nNew York theatres in this and other leading characters. At \nthis time she brought out her youngest sister, Susan, herself \nassuming male parts. She was manageress of one of the Phila- \ndelphia theatres until Mr. Macready, in 1844, invited her to \n'accompany him in a professional tour of the Northern States, \nwhich gave her an opportunity of displaying her tragic powers \nto advantage. \n\nDuring her tour with Macready, she played in Boston at the \nOld Melodeon, with scarcely a single voice of the press raised \nin her favor. Her benefit, at which the tragedian, with charac- \nteristic littleness, refused to appear, was a pecuniary loss to her. \nBut it was during this trip that Macready said to her one day, \nin liis brusque, pompous way, \" Girl, you would do well in \nLondon.\" This remark was not lost on the quick-witted \nYankee maiden. \n\nThe next year foimd her in London, but she had kept her \nown counsel, and even Mr. Macready did not know her inten- \ntion. In vain, however, she solicited an engagement, for she \nhad neither fame nor beauty to recommend her. But at last, \nwhen she had spent almost her last farthing, — except the little \nsum at her banker's, laid aside to take her back home in case \nall else should fail, — a ray of hope appeared. Maddocks, the \nmanager of the Princess's Theatre, proposed to her to appear in \ncompany with Mr. Forrest, who was then, like herself, seeking \nan opening at the London theatres. The shrewd manager \nthought that perhaps two American Stars might fiU his house. \n\nCharlotte's reply was characteristic of her acuteness. \" Give \nme,\" she said to the manager, \" a chance first. If I succeed, I \ncan well afford to play with Mr. Forrest ; if I fail, I shall be \nonly too glad to do so.\" She made her debut as Bianca in \nFazio. The first act, in which the dialogue is tame, passed off \nominously. The audience were attentive, but undemonstrative. \nThe actress retired to her dressing-room much depressed with \n\n\n24 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe fear of failure. \" This will never do, Sally,\" she remarked \nto her negro waiting-maid, then and after her affectionate at- \ntendant. \n\n\" No, indeed, it won't, miss ; but you '11 fetch um bimeby,\" \nsaid the faithful creature. The play quietly proceeded until \nBianca spoke the lines, — \n\n\" Fazio, thou hast seen A Idabella ! \" \n\nThose words, in which love, anger, and jealousy were all \nstruggling for the mastery, uttered with indescribable accent \nand energy, startled the audience out of its well-bred, cold- \nblooded i^ropriety ; cheers filled the bouse, and Miss Cushman \nremained mistress of the situation. \n\nShe afterwards appeared in conjunction with Mr. Forrest; but \nthat gentleman, who had then for the nonce put a curb upon \nhis fashion of tearing a passion to tatters, was overshadowed by \nher. Forrest resented the preference of the public by extreme \nrudeness to Charlotte on the stage, and by various unfriendly \nacts, which caused a rupture that was never healed. Forrest \nplayed Othello on the occasion above mentioned. Miss Cush- \nman sustaining the part of Emilia. Her performance was \nthroughout intelligent, impressive, natural, without any strain- \ning after effect ; while her energy, at times, completely carried \nthe audience along with her. \n\nBy the friendship of Charles Kemble and of Mr. Phelps of \nSadler's Wells she attracted the favorable notice of royalty. \nIt is a fact as singular as it is true, that, on her return from \nEngland, Boston, the city of her birth, was the only place in \nwhich she did not at once meet a cordial reception ; but her \ntalents compelled their own recognition and buried the few \npaltry detractors out of sight. She appeared at the Federal \nStreet Theatre and won an enthusiastic verdict of popular favor \nwithin that old temple of histrionic art. \n\nThe part in which Miss Cushman has achieved her greatest \nreputation in this country is that of Meg Merrilies in \" Guy \nMannering,\" a creation peculiarly her own. The character, not- \nwithstanding its repulsive features, becomes in her hands weird, \n\n\nTHE GATEWAY OF OLD MIDDLESEX. 25 \n\nterrible, and fascinating. Her somewhat masculine physique \nand angular physiognomy have given more character to the as- \nsumption of such male parts as Ton and Romeo than is usually \nthe case with her sex. But Miss Cushman was a real artiste, \nlimited to no narrow sphere of her calling. She could play \nQueen Catharine and Mrs. Simpson in the same evening with \nequal success, and retained in no small degree, when verging \non threescore, the energy and dramatic force of her palmy \ndays. \n\nAt the opening of the Cushmau School in Boston, Charlotte \nmade an extempore address to the scholars, in Avhich she ex- \nplained to them her grand principle of action and the secret of \nher success. \" Whatever you have to do,\" she said, \" do it \n^^ath all youi might.\" \n\n\na \n\n\n26 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCH.APTEE 11. \n\nAN HOUR IN THE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. \n\n\" There, where your argosies with portly sail, — \nLike sigiiiors and rich burghers ou the flood. \nOr, as it were, the pageants of the sea, — \nDo over-peer the petty traffickers.\" \n\nMerchant of Venice. \n\nTHERE is a singular fascination in viewing objects created \nexpressly for our destruction. The wounded soldier will \nmake the most convulsive efforts to see the place where he has \nbeen struck, and if the leaden bullet which has so nearly threat- \nened his life be placed in his hand, he regards it thereafter with \na strange, unaccountable affection. So, when we find ourselves \nwithin the government dockyard we cannot pass by the rows \nof cannon gleaming in the sunshine, or the pyramids of shot \nand shell, wthout wondermg how many they are destined to \ndestroy. We have not yet learned to dispense with war, and \nthe problem \" How to kill \" yet taxes the busiest brain, the \nmost inventive genius. \n\nSomehow, too, there is a certain consciousness the moment \nyou set foot within any little strip of territory over which \nUncle Sam exercises exclusive authority. The trig, pipe-clayed \nmarine paces stiffly up and down before the entrance, hugging \nhis shining musket as if it were a piece of himself, and looking \nstraight before him, though you would feel yourself more at \nease if he would look at you. The ofl&cer you see coming, in \nthe laced cap, and to whom you would fain address yourself, \nnever allows your eye to meet liis own, but marches straight \non, as he would do if he were going to storm a battery. The \nworkmen, even, pursue their labor without the cheerful cries and \nchaffing which enliven the toil of their brethren outside. The \n\n\nv. \n\n\no \n\nOS \n\n[I. \nw \n\nD \n\no \n\n\nt^ o \n\n\nS CO \n\n\nz. \n\n\nM \n\n\n2 Q \n>< \n\n\nX \n\n\n■■siilSPi \n\n\no \n\nOS \n\n\nhJ \n\nhJ \n\n\n:iS \n\n\\r. \n\nD \nSI \n\no \n\n\n■A \n> \n\n\nAN HOUR IN THE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. 27 \n\ncalkers' mallets seem to click in unison, the carpenters chip \nthoughtfully away on the live-oak frame. Everything is syste- \nmatic, orderly, and precise, hut rather oppressive withal. \n\nIn the first years of the nation's existence the government \nwas obliged to make use of private yards, and that of Edmund \nHartt, in Boston, may be considered the progenitor of this. \nSeveral vessels of the old navy, among them the famed Con- \nstitution, were built there, under supervision of officers ap- \npointed by the government. Henry Jackson, formerly colonel \nof the Sixteenth Continental Regiment, was appointed naval \nagent by his bosom friend, General Knox, when the latter was \nSecretary of War, and Caleb Gibbs, first commander of Wash- \nington's famous body-guard, was made naval storekeeper, v^dth an \noffice in Batterymarch Street, Boston. The yard at the bottom \nof Milk Street was also used for naval purposes by the govern- \nment. \n\nWhen Admiral Montague of the royal navy was stationed in \nour waters, he caused a survey of the harbor to be made, and is \nreported on good authority to have then said, \" The devil got \ninto the government for placing the naval depot at Halifax. God \nAlmighty made Noddle's Island on purpose for a dockyard.\" \n\nIn 1799 the government despatched Mr. Joshua Humphries, \nthe eminent naval architect, to Boston, to examine the pro- \nposed sites. The report was favorable to Charlestown, much \nto the chagrin of the proprietors of l^oddle's Island, now East \nBoston, who had reckoned on a different decision. As Mr. \nJohn Harris, the principal owiier of the tract selected, and \nDr. Putnam, the government agent, were unable to agree upon \nterms, the affair was decided by a decree of the Middlesex \nCourt of Sessions. \n\nThe purchase made by the United States was originally \ncaUed Moulton's Point, from Robert Moulton, the sliip- carpen- \nter ; it has also been indifferently styled Moreton's and Morton's \nPoint, in connection with accounts of the battle of Bunker \nHiU, it being the place where Howe's main body landed on \nthat day. The site also embraced what was known in old \ntimes as Dirty Marsh. The point Avas quite early selected for \n\n\n28 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\na fortification, and a small battery, or, as it was then called, a \nsconce, was thrown up, and armed with light pieces. The guns \nwere secretly removed by the patriots in the autumn of 1774, \nwithout exciting the least suspicion of what was taking place \non board the British vessels of war in the stream. Upon the \nevacuation of Boston this was one of the points which Wash- \nington directed his chief of artillery to fortify. \n\nThat part of the town in the neighborhood of the yard was \nlong ago called Wapping, a circumstance which it has been \nthought proper to distinguish by a street of that name. In the \ndays of the Great Rebellion this now unsavory locality could \nnot have been much inferior to its prototype by the Thames, \nand poor Jack, in making his exit from the yard after a long \ncruise, had to run the gauntlet of all the merciless land-sharks \nthat infested the place. At one time, however, the neighbor- \nhood was of quite a different cast, and some of the artisans \nof the yard found a convenient residence here ; among others, \nJosiah Barker, for thirty-four years the distinguished naval con- \nstructor at this station, lived in Wapping Street, in a house still \nstanding on the north side of the street as you approach the \nyard from Chelsea Street. \n\nThe first records of this station begin in 1815, when an \naggregate of forty-four officers and men was borne on the \nrolls, while it is said as many as six thousand were employed \nhere during the Rebellion. In the beginning of the year men- \ntioned, which was just at the conclusion of war with Great \nBritain, there was but a single wharf in the yard. The \nfrigates Congress, Macedonian, Constitution, the seventy-fours \nWashington and Independence, and the brig Chippewa were \nthen lying here. \n\nA lady who visited the yard in 1824, and recorded her impres- \nsions, gives a somewhat humorous account of the difficulties she \nencountered. She says : — \n\n\"The United States Na^y-Yard is likewise located in Charles- \ntown. A few marines are also stationed here ; the most trifUng, \nabandoned-looking men, from their appearance, to be found. I \napplied to the Commandant, Major W , for liberty to inspect the \n\n\nAN HOUR IN THE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. 29 \n\ninterior of the yard, but this haughty bashaw sent word '/le was en- \ngaged, and that I must report my business to the lieutenant/ — rather \na reproach to Uncle Sam. As in duty bound, I obeyed his high- \nness, and called on the lieutenant, whom I found unqualified to give \nthe information I wished to obtain ; and, after undergoing sundry \nindignities from these mighty men of war, I had to give up the \ndesign.\" \n\nCommodore Samuel Nicholson was the first commandant of \nthe yard, and the somewhat pecuhar architecture of the house \nused as a residence by the commodores is a specimen of his \ntaste, — \n\n' ' Tlie brave old commodore, \nThe rum old commodore. \" \n\nWhen the Constitution was building, Nicholson, who was to \nhave her, exercised a general supervision over her construction ; \nthough, notwithstanding anything that has been said, Colonel \nGeorge Claghorn was the principal and authorized constructor. \n\nIn consequence of the narrow limits of Hartt's Yard, it had \nbeen agreed that no spectators should be admitted on the day \nprevious to that fixed for the launch, without the permission \nof Captain Nicholson, Colonel Claghorn, or General Jackson. \nWhile the workmen were at breakfast Colonel Claghorn had \nadmitted some ladies and gentlemen to view the ship, but when \nthey attempted to go on board Nicholson forbade their enter- \ning. This was communicated to Colonel Claghorn. In the af- \nternoon of the same day some visitors who had been denied an \nentrance to the ship by Nicholson were admitted by Claghorn, \nwho, however, was not aware that they had been previously \nrefused permission. The captain, who was furious when he \nsaw the men he had just tui'ned away approaching, exclaimed \nto Claghorn, \" D — n it ! do you know whom you have admitted, \nand that I have just refused them 1 \" ■ The latter repHed that \nhe did not know that circumstance, but, having passed his \n■word, they might go on board. The Avhole party being assem- \nbled on the Constitution's deck, Colonel Claghorn went up to \nthe captain and desired, with some heat, that he might not treat \nthese visitors as he had done the ladies in the morning; to \n\n\n30 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwliich Nicholson replied that he should say no more to them, \nbut that he had a right to command on board his own ship. \nTo this Claghorn rejoined that he commanded on board the \nship, and that if Captain Nicholson did not like the regula- \ntions, he might go out of her. Upon this the parties im- \nmediately collared each other, and Nicholson, who carried a \ncane, attempted to strike his adversary, but the bystanders in- \nterfered and separated the belligerents. The affair was settled \nby mutual apologies. Nicholson died in Charlestown in 1811, \nand was buried under Christ Church, in Boston. It was said \nthat Preble, who was appointed to the Constitution under Nich- \nolson, declined serving Avith him, and expressed doubts of his \ncourage. General Knox's son, Henry Jackson ELnox, was a \nmidshipman on board Old Ironsides on her first cruise, \n\nHull was one of the early commanders of the yard. The \nreceiving-ship Ohio, now at this station, carried his flag in the \nMediterranean in 1839. Bainbridge was commandant at the \ntime of Lafayette's visit in 1824. These two men, famous in \nthe annals of the American Navy, could conquer their invinci- \nble adversaries yard-arm to yard-arm, and afterwards gain their \nhearts by the most kindly offices to them while prisoners. \nDacres, whom Hull captured in the Guerri^re, became his friend \nin after time. We may here relate an episode of Bainbridge \nand the Java. \n\nEarly in 1845 the Constitution, then commanded by Mad \nJack Percival, cast anchor in the roadstead of Singapore. She \nhad on her way taken out Henry A. Wise, oiu- minister to \nBrazil, and was on special service in the East Indies and \nPacific. The vertical rays of a tropic sun and the deadly \nbreezes of the African coast had made a hospital of the ship ; \nher gun-deck on the starboard side was hung Avith cots and \nhammocks. The captain had given up the forward cabin to \nthe sick. The exterior of the old invincible responded mourn- \nfully to the interior. Her huU had been painted a dull lead- \ncolor at Ptio, faintly enlivened by a red streak; but a long pas- \nsage across the Indian Ocean had brought her old sable color \nhere and there into view, while the streaks of iron-rust down \nher sides told her condition but too plainly. \n\n\nAN HOUR IN Tilli GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. 31 \n\nBefore the anchor was let go a boat with an officer from \nH. B. M. frigate Cambrian came alongside with the compliments \nand friendly offers of Commodore Chads. The officer's return \nbrought the gallant commodore on board the Constitution. He \nwas a fine-looking man of about fifty, more than six feet, per- \nfectly erect, and as he stepped over the gangway he simulta- \nneously saluted the ofiicers who received him, at the same time \nsurveying the ship fore and aft, and alow and aloft. The spar- \ndeck of the old ship looked passing well, and the commodore's \nscrutiny was not at all mortifying. He then descended to the \ncabin, where Captain Percival received him on crutches. \n\n\" I have hastened on board your ship,\" said Commodore \nChads, \" to offer my services, having heard you were sick, as \nwell as many of your people ; and I have brought my surgeon, \nwho has been long out here, and is familiar with the diseases \nof India.\" \n\nHe then inquired if this was the same ship called the Con- \nstitution in 1813. Having been told that she was the same in \nmodel, battery, and internal arrangements, although rebuilt, he \nsaid he was very glad to meet her again ; that she was an old \nacquaintance ; and that in the action of the Java he had the \nhonor to fight her after Captain Lambert was disabled ; and \nthat, although he had hauled down his colors to the Constitu- \ntion, there were no reminiscences more pleasing to him than \nthose resulting from the skill, gallantry, and bravery of the \nnoble Bainbridge during and after the action. \" The Constitu- \ntion, sir, was manoeuvred in a masterly manner, and it made me \nregret that she was not British. It was Greek meet Greek, for \nwe were the same blood, after all.\" These particulars are from \na letter supposed to haA^e been from the pen of Mr. Ballestier, \nour Consul at Singapore. Mrs. Ballestier, who accompanied \nher husband to the East Indies, was a daughter of the famous \nPaul Eevere. \n\nCommodore Hull was rather short and thick-set, with a \ncountenance deeply bronzed by long exposure to sun and \nweather, he having gone to sea when a boy. He was a man \nof plain, unassuming manners, and rather silent than loquacious. \n\n\n32 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCooper, who knew him well, describes him as one of the most \nskilful seamen of history, remarkable for coolness in moments \nof danger. He seldom mentioned his exploits, but sometimes, \nwhen the famous action with the Guerriere was alluded to, he \nwould speak with enthusiasm of the beautiful day in August \non which that battle was fought. \n\nThe two Commodores Hull, uncle and nephew,* married sis- \nters belonging to the family of Hart, of Saybrook, Connecticut, \nand remarkable for their beauty. Another sister married Hon. \nHeman Allen, of Vermont, at one time minister to Chili; \nwhile still another was the wife of Eev. Dr. Jarvis of St. Paul's, \nBoston. The most beautiful of the sisters, Jeanette, never mar- \nried, but went to Eome and became a nun. She is said to \nhave been, in her day, the handsomest woman in America. \nAnother nephew of Isaac Hull was the late Admiral Andrew \nHull Foote, who was so gi'eatly distinguished in the early part \nof the Eebellion, receiving, at Fort Donelson, a wound that \neventually contributed to cause his death. \n\nIt appears, from excellent authority, that the original draft \nof the Constitution was changed at the suggestion of Colonel \nGeorge Claghorn, who ought therefore to be regarded as the \nperson most entitled to the credit of having created the pride of \nthe navy, as it was to him her construction was confided. The \nsubject of an alteration in her dimensions had been verbally \nbroached to the Secretary of War — who also presided over \nour infant marine at that time — when he was in Boston in \n1794. General Knox consented, in presence of the agent, Gen- \neral Jackson ; but Claghorn, having been a soldier, was not \nsatisfied until he obtained the authority in ■\\^Titing. \n\nAt the festival in Faneiiil Hall given to Captain Hull on his \nreturn from the fight with the Guerriere, Ex- President Adams, \nwho, on account of his infirmities was unable to be present, \nsent the follo^^dng toasts, which were read by Hon. Samuel \nDexter : — \n\n\" May every commodore in our navy soon be made an admiral, \nand every captain a commodore, with ships and squadi-ons worthy \n\n* Commodore Joseph B. Hull. \n\n\nAN HOUR IN TILE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. So \n\nof their commanders aiicl worthy of the wealth, power, and dignity \nof their coimtry. Proli dolor ! Prohj)udor!\" \n\n\" Talbot, Truxtun, Decatur, Little, Preble, — had their country \ngiven them the means, they would have been Blakes, Drakes, and \nNelsons.\" \n\nOn her return to port from this cruise the Constitution spoke \nthe Dolphin and Decatur, privateers, the latter of which, think- \ning she was pursued by an enemy, threw her guns overboard. \nIt is at least a coincidence that the news of the surrender of \nDetroit by General Hull should have reached Boston only a \nfew hours after the arrival of his nephew, Captain Hull, from \nhis successful combat. Shnbrick commanded the yard in 1825, \nCrane in 1826, and Morris from 1827 to 1833, when he was \nsucceeded by Jesse D. Elliott. \n\nThe park of naval artillery bears as little resemblance to the \ncannon of a century ago as do the war-ships of to-day to those \ncommanded by Manley, Jones, or Hopkins, l^o event wiU \nbetter illustrate the advance in gunnery than the battle be- \ntween Sampson and Cervera off Santiago. The naval tactics \nof the first period were to lay a ship alongside her adversary, \nand tnen let courage and hard fighting win the day. But \nnowadaj's close actions are avoided, or considered unneces- \nsary, and instances of individual gallantry become more rare. \nShips toss their heavy shot at each other miles away, without \nthe least knoAvledge of the damage they inflict, and Old Sliy- \nlock is now only half right when he says, \n\n\" Ships are but boards, sailors but men,\" \n\nfor iron succeeds oak, though no substitute is yet found for \nbone and muscle. \n\nIn the beginning of the Revolution cannon was the most \nessential thing wanted. Ships were built and manned with \nalacrity, bnt all kinds of shifts were made to supply them \nwith guns. A fleet of privateers was soon afloat in the waters \nof Massachusetts Bay, and public vessels Avere on the stocks, \nbut how they were armed may be inferred from the following \nextract from a letter dated at Boston, September 1, 1776 : — \n2* 0 \n\n\n34 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\" There is so great a demand for guns here for fitting out priva- \nteers that those old things that used to stick in the ground, particu- \nlarly at Bowes's Corner,* Admiral Vernon, etc., have been taken \nup, and sold at an immoderate price ; that at Mr. Bowes's was sold \nby My. Jones for fifty dollars. I imagine it will sp'.it in the first \nattempt to fii'e it.\" \n\nThe Hancock, which was the second Continental frigate \nlaunched, and was commanded by Captain Manley, as well as \nthe Old Boston frigate, Captain McN^eill, were both armed with \nguns, chiefly nine-pounders, taken from the works in Boston \nharbor, and furnished by Massachusetts. The Hancock was \nbuilt and launched at ISTewburyport, and not at Boston, as has \nbeen stated. Manley, the first sea officer to attack the enemy \non that element, received in 1792 a compensation of £150, \nand a pension of £ 9 per month for life. \n\nUnlike the celebrated English dockyard and arsenal at Wool- \nwich, our dockyards are only utilized for naval purposes, while \nthe former is the depot for the royal horse and foot artillery \nand the royal sappers and miners, with vast magazines of \ngreat guns, mortars, bombs, powder, and other warlike stores. \nThe Royal MUitary Academy was erected in the arsenal, but \nwas not completely formed until 1745, in the reign of George \nII. It would seem that the same system might be advan- \ntageously carried out in this country, so far as the corps of \nengineers and artillery are concerned, with the benefit of com- \nbining practical with theoretical instruction upon those points \nwhere there exists an identity of interest in the military and \nnaval branches of the service. \n\nThe area of the great British dockyard is about the same as \nthat of the Charlestown yard, but in depth of water in front \nthe latter has greatly the advantage, the Thames being so shal- \nlow at Woolwich that large ships are now chiefly constructed at \nthe other naval ports. We may here mention that Woolwich \nis the most ancient arsenal\" in Great Britain, men-of-war having \nbeen built there as early as the reign of Henry VIIL, when the \nHarry Grace de Dieu was constructed in 1512. The Royal \n\n* South Comer of State and \"Washington Streets, \n\n\nAX iiDii; ix TiiK (iovi;i;XMi:xT ikkkv.vi;!). \n\n\noa \n\n\n: II i: \\ 1 II \\U1! V. \n\n\n(IfurgL', ill wliifli Ivi'iiiiifiiri'lL wuiit down ;il S[)iili(_Mil, ami tlic \nXolsoii, Tralalyai-, ami other lii\\st- rates, wave also built at W'onl- \nwicli. \n\nW'lu'ii \\vc Imik amuml u|inu (h,. wmi-h iful jiroi^rcss ol' tlu; \nstnam luariiic \ndiiriiiL,' till' [lasl \n(luartrr ot\" a ccii- \ntiirv, ami rcllcrl \nuiHiii its |inssil)il- \nitios, the predic- \ntioii of tile ci;le- \nl)rat(!d I)r. L)io- \niiysiu.s J.anliier, \nthat steam could \nnever be protit- \nal >Iy employed \nin ocean naviga- \ntion, seems incredible. Sixty years ago this was dcmonstratetl \nby the I)octor with facts and tigures, models and diagrams. \n\nIn the summer of 1781 the port of Boston was almost sealed \nby the constant pi'escnce of British cruisers in the hay, \\v\\]n took \nmany valuable prizes and brought several mercantile houses to \nthe verge of ruin. The merchants accordingly besought .\\d- \niniral Le Compte de Barras to send some of his frigatt-s from \nNewport round to Boston ; bnt the Count replied that the ed'orts \nalready made to induce his men to desert and engage on Ixiard \nprivateers compelled him to refuse tlie re(|Uest. The niercliaiits \nthen sent a committee composeil (if jNLessrs. Sears, llroome, \nBreck, and others, to assure the Count that his imMi slioiiM not \nbe taken under any circumstances. \n\nThe Count's compliance resulted in the loss of one of his \nships, the Magiciemie, of thirty-two guns, which was taki-ii by \nthe Assurance, a British two-decker, in Boston harbor. The \naction was so plainly vi.sible from the wharves of the town, \nthat the French colors were seen to be struck and the English \nhoisted in tlieir .stead. The Fren(;h ships Sagittaire, lifty \nguns, Astrie, thirty-two, and llermioiie, thirty-two, were in the \n\n\n36 \n\n\nIIISTOIJIC MANSION'S AN1> IlKillWAVS. \n\n\n'I'm-S:' \n\n\n—iltisi '\"'*. \n\n\nliailmr Avlicn Hut \nli.iltlc (•oiiniicni'i'il, \n;iii(l iiuiin'ilialrl V'_'ot \n\n■ o \n\nUllilii- Wi'iuli to ,L(() \n\nlo lliL' a^sislaiirc n[' \n\ntlictir ciiiisdi't ; 1ml \n\nllic wind l>ciii,L,' li^'lit \n\nami till' S:i,i;itiair(' \n\na (lull sailiT, tlif \n\nL'liciny escaped with \n\nhis ])ri/e. Many \n\nHiLsldiiians went mi \n\nhiiard the I'I'i'Mi-Ii \n\n/ ships as \\i>liinteei-s \n\n7 ill the expeeled ai'- \n\n'■;'• |I ti(ji). ( 'iilmiel ha- \nll ^ \n'I'i' a vid 8(!ars\\vasaiiiiiii^ \n\no thi- iiuiiiher who \n\n\". jiiiued the Astrie ill \n\n-— l^!l thi' expeclaliuli dl' \n\n- ciijtiyini;' sdiiie di- \n\n\n, ,._, , T^,,v--w ^ versidii dl' this sort-. \n\n^45 ■!''■ ''■^^' ri^l > I'll'' nierehaiits df \n\n•\\L^^f ' ''■£\"\"' '-'^^ y- 1>\"-'~1\"\" afterwards \n\n•'■i-~-s- I »?t, = .L;ave a s|)leiiiliil diii- \n\n* !^~Lj^ imt td Ihi- Manpiis \n\n' '• \"Wjv^ lie ( lei'^erdUX, the \n\n•:' ijw^/ coiiiiiiaiiiler of the \n\n\nl'?lUf^^/ Fri'iiih Meet, and his \nollieers. fdi- the sei'- \n\n/Vy^^'-H^^ii^^ >'ff\\- Mfi \\iees rendered in \n\n«, i- \"far ML-flHkdr:' a // dear df the enemy s \nsv-::^^// cruisers. \n\nH Nelsdll. who III \n\n', 1 7Sl' wa> di'dered \n\ntd cruise in the \n\n\nI'P AllM'iiiarl.' dii the \n\n\nAN HOUR IN THE GOVERNMENT DOCKYARD. 37 \n\nAmerican station, fell in with a fishing schooner on our coast, \nwhich he captured, but the master, having piloted the cruiser \ninto Boston Bay, was released with his vessel and the following \ncertificate : — \n\n\" This is to certify that I took the schooner Harmony, Nathaniel \nCarver, master, belonging to Plymouth, but on account of his good \nservices have given him up his vessel again. \n\n\" Dated ou board His Majesty's ship Albemarle, \n17tli August, 1782. \n\n\" Horatio Nelson.\" \n\nThe grateful man afterwards came off to the Albemarle, at \nthe hazard of his life, bringing a present of sheep, poultry, and \nother fresh provisions, — a most welcome supply, for the scurvy \nwas raging on board. Nelson exhibited a similar trait of \nnobility in releasing two officers of Rochambeau's army, who \nwere captured in a boat in the West Indies while on some ex- \ncursion. Count Deux-Ponts was one and Isidore Lynch the \nother captive. Nelson gave them a capital dinner, and the \nwine ha\"\\dng got into their heads, the secret imprudently came \nout that Lynch was of English birth. The poor prisoners were \nthunderstruck at the discovery, but Nelson, without appearing \nto have overheard the indiscretion, set both at liberty. \n\nIt sounds somewhat strangely at this time to recall the fact \nthat the United States once paid tribute to the ruler of a horde \nof pirates, to induce him to hold off his hands from our com- \nmerce ; and that our captured crews were sold into slavery or \nheld for ransom at the behest of a turbaned barbarian. Six \nthousand stand of arms, four field-pieces, and a quantity of \ngunpowder was the price of the peace granted by the Dey of \nAlgiers to America in 1795. In May, 1794, an exhibition was \ngiven at the Boston Theatre for the relief of our countrymen, \nprisoners in Algiers, which realized about nine hundred dollars. \nDominie Terry & Co. advanced $3,000 for the maintenance of \nthese prisoners, \\\\dthout security. \n\nOf the early commanders of our navy Hopkins was de- \nscribed in 1776 as an antiquated-looking person, with a strong \n\n\n38 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nideal resemblance to Van Tromp. He appeared at first an- \ngelic, says our authority, until he swore, and then the illusion \nvanished. Hopkins commanded the first American squadron \nthat set sail from our shores, and carried the colony flag at his \n\n\ngafi\". \n\n\nNAVY-YAED IN 1858. \n\nPaul Jones had the honor not only of hoisting -with liis own \nhands the American flag on hoard the Alfred, in 1775, which \nhe says was then displayed for the first time, but of receiving \nin the Eanger the first salute to that flag by a foreign power \nfrom M. de la Motte Piquet, who, with a French squadron, on \nboard of which was Lafayette, was lying in the bay of Quiberon, \nready to sail for America. This occurred February 13, 1778. \n\nNext comes a half-acre of round-shot and shell arranged \nin pyramids, and waiting till the now torpid Dahlgrens or \nParrotts shake off their lethargy and demand their indigest- \nible food. Some of the globes are painted black, befitting \ntheir funereal purpose, while we observed that others had \nreceived a coat of white, and now looked like great sugar- \ncoated pills, — a sharp medicine to carry ofl\" the national \nbile. \n\nTo the field of deadly projectiles succeeds a field of anchors, \nthe last resource of the seaman, the symbol of Hope in all the \ncivilized world. \n\n\nAN llUl U IX TIIK t.;()Vi;i;N.Mi;M- KOCKVAliD. \n\n\no[) \n\n\nTlir iiivciitiiiii i<\\' llic aiiclmr is ascrilicd liy riiiiy \\n the \nTvrrluMiian.s, ami l)y oilier \\vritei-.s to Midas, tlui .st)ii n|' ( lor- \n(lia.s, whoso anchor I'aiisaiiias (loclarcs was presorvctl until his \ntime in a teniplu (Uulicated to Jupiter. The most ancii-nt an- \ncliiirs were made \nof stoiu', and al- \nterwards of wikkI \nwhich coiitaiucd \na groat (luautity \nof lead ; some- \ntimes baskets \nill led with stones, \nor shingle, and \neven sacks of \n\n1 1 STANCH AMI STItoNi;. \n\nsand were used. \n\nThe ({reeks used much the same anchor as is imw in vouui', \nexcept the transverse piece called the stock. Many of the an- \nchors ust'd by our first war-vessels came from the Old Forge at \nHanover, Mass. \n\nIf we might linger here, it would be to reflect on which of \nthese ponderous masses of metal the fate of some good ship \nwith her precinus liurden of lives had depended ; with Avhat \nagony of suspen.se the tension of the stout cable had been \n■watched from hour to hour as the greedy waves rushed by to \nthniw th(Mnselves with a roar of baffled rage upon tlie flinty \nshore. R(;member. ( ) craftsman, in your mighty workshop yon- \nder, wherein yo>i wield forces old Vulcan might have envied, \nthat life and death are in every .stroke of your huge trip-ham- \nmer ; and that a batidi of rotten iron may cost a thou.saml \nlives, therehjre, \n\n\" Lot 's forge a goodly aiiclior, — a bowor thick and broad; \nFor a liuart of oak is liangiiig on every blow, I bode; \nAnd I see tlie gooitch sky high; \n'J'lieli moves his head, as though he saiil, ' Fear nothing, hen- am I !'\" \n\n\n40 IlISTOUIC MANSIONS AXI> li[( MIWAV.S. \n\nAVe can ciniiiiarc the grauite basin, i'asliinncd to roccive the \ngreat warshiits, to utilliing else than a Imgi^ hath whcrchi some \nantiiiiie giant might ilisjMiii himsiilt'. It seems a miracle of \niMtclligencc, skill, and persevcrani.-c. When Loannni ilaldwin \nwas applied tu to undertake the Iniilding of this Dry i)oek, \nhe hesitateil, and asked Mr. Southard, then Secretary of \ntiie Navy. \"What it I slmuld faiN \" \" If you dn,\" replied \nthe Sci'rctary, \" we will hang yi'U.\" It proved a great suc- \ncess, worthy to be classed among the otlier works of this dis- \ntinguished engineer. \n\nThe foundation rests upon jtiles on which is laid a ma.ssive \noaken lloor. We cannot choose but admire the great blocks of \nhewn granite, and the e.xact and elegant masoni-y. Owing to \nsome defect, wlien nearly completed, a rupture took place in \nthe wall, and a thundering rush (d\" water came in and iilled \ntht^ excavation, but it was soon pumped out and elfectually \nriipaired. \n\nAfter an examination of the records of the tides in I>os- \nton harbor for the previous sixty years, ]\\Ir. lialdwiu lixed \nthe height of the capping of the dock several inches al)ove \nthe highest that had occurred within tiiat perioij. In t.he \ngale of April, 1851, however, the tide ro.si! to sui'h a height \na.s to overllow the dock, falling in beautiful casca Captain Harris's \nlife was saved by trepanning, and he recovered to take part \nin the battle of Long Island and the subsequent operations in \nNew York and the Jerseys. He received another rebel bullet \nthrough the leg in 1777 ; was in the expedition to St. Lucie in \n1778 as major of the 5th ; served in India with distinction, and \nwas made lieutenant-general in 1801. Lexington was his first \nbattle ; his lieutenant, Francis Rawdon, and himself are among \nthe few British officers who fought at Bunker Hill whose repu- \ntations survived the American war. \n\nCaptain Addison, a relative of the author of the Spectator, \nonly arrived in Boston the day f)revious to the battle, and had \nthen accepted an iuAdtation to dine on the next day with Gen- \neral Burgoyne ; but a far different experience aAvaited him, for \nhe was numbered among the slain. \n\nThe agency of the young Bostonian, John Coffin (afterwards \na gejieral in the British army), in this battle is said to have been \npurely accidental ; for, going down to Long Wharf to see the \n5th and 38th embark, he became excited with the ardor dis- \nplayed by his acquaintances among the officers, of whom Cap- \ntain Harris was one, jumped into a boat and went over to the \nhill. This was the relation of Dr. Waterhouse. Captain Harris \nsays he had faUen over head and ears in love with a Miss \nCoffin, — who was a relative of John and Sir Isaac, — or, as he \njocosely phrased it, had found a coffin for his heart. The lady \n\nhad a \" remarkably soft hand and red pouting lips.\" This \n4* \n\n\n58 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ncelebrated family of Coffins also furnished another able officer, \nSir Thomas Aston Coffin, to the British cause. \n\nGeneral Coffin is accredited with saying to his American \nfriends after the war, in allusion to Bunker Hill, \" You could \nnot have succeeded without it ; for something was indispensable, \nin the then state of parties, to lix men someivhere, and to show \nthe planters at the South that Northern people were really \nin earnest, and could and would fight. That, that did the busi- \nness for you.\" '\"' \n\nThomas Graves, afterwards an admiral, commanded an armed \nsloop which assisted in covering the landing of the British \ntroops at Bunker Hill, as did Bouillon and Collingwood (Nel- \nson's famous lieutenant), who were in the boats. Thomas was \nthe nephew of Admiral Samuel Graves, then commanding the \nfleet in the waters of Boston harbor. \n\nLord Rawdon, who is represented in Trumbull's picture in \nthe act of waving a flag from the top of the intrenchment, \ndeveloped, Avhile afterwards commanding in the South, a san- \nguinary disposition. In vieAV of the numerous desertions taking \nplace in his command, he is reported to have offered, on one \noccasion, ten guineas for the head of any deserter of the Irish \nVolunteers, but only five for the man if brought in alive. \n\nAn American gentleman gives the folloAving account of an \ninterview with the Earl of Moira in 1803, while sojourning on \ntlie Isle of Wight : — \n\n\" I waited ou his Lordship, and was introduced ; my reception \nwas all that could be desired. The Earl then informed me, that, \nlearning from our host that I M'as from the United States, he had \nsought my acquaintance in the hope that I would give him some in- \nformation of some of his old acquaintances of our Revolutionary \nWai'. I was pleased to have it in my power to gratify his Lordship \nfar beyond his expectations ; and, after an excellent supper of beef- \nsteak and oysters, with a bottle of old port, we found the night had \ncrept into the morning before we parted. The Earl was a gentle- \nman of most noble ajDpearance.\" \n\n* Sabine. \n\n\nBUNKEli HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 59 \n\nColonel, afterwards General Small, who appears in Trumbull's \npicture as arresting the thrust of a liayonet aimed at Warren's \nprostrate form, was greatly respected ou both sides, as the fol- \nlowing anecdote will illustrate. \" Towards the conclusion of \nthe war, Colonel Small expressing a wish to meet with General \nSt. Clair of the American army, the friend and companion of \nhis early years, a flag of truce was immediately sent by General \nGreene, with an invitation to come within our lines, and remain \nat his option therein, free from every restriction. The invitation \nwas accepted in the same spirit in -which it was tendered.\" It \nis perhaps needless to say that the position in wdiich Trumbull \nhas placed Colonel Small is more for artistic effect than for \nhistoric accuracy. \n\nGeneral Burgoyne, a spectator only of this battle, lived at \none time in Samuel Quiucy's house, in South Street, Boston. \nIt was a handsome wooden dwelling of three stories, with a \nyard and garden, and was for many years the abode of Judge \nJohn Davis. The estate was the third from the corner of \nSummer Street, according to former lines of division, and on the \neast side of South Street. This was the house of which Mrs. \nAdams remarks, \" A lady who lived opposite says she saw raw \nmeat cut and hacked upon her mahogany table, and her superb \ndamask curtains exposed to the rain.\" \n\nGeneral Pigot, who fought a duel with Major Bruce, with- \nout serious result to either combatant, resided in the Hancock \nHouse, on Beacon HiU, during the winter of 1775. To his \ncredit be it said, he left the old family mansion of the pro- \nscribed patriot in a cleanly state, and the wines and stores \nremained as he found them. Affairs of honor were not un- \ncommon in Boston while the Idng's troops were stationed there. \nIn September, 1775, a meeting took place between a captain \nand lieutenant of marines, in which the former was killed and \nthe latter badly wounded. \n\nDuelling was one of the pernicious customs which the Brit- \nish officers left behind them. The Continental officers some- \ntimes settled their disputes in this wise, and, indeed, carried \nthe fashion into private life ; as witness the affair of Burr and \n\n\n60 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nHamilton. But that the practice obtained a foothold among \nthe gentry in staid Old Boston would seem incredible, if we \nhad not the evidence. \n\nTrumbull's great painting of the \" Battle of Bunker Hill,\" \nexcept for the portraits it contains, some of which were painted \nfrom life, must ever be an unsatisfactory work to Americans. \nThe artist has depicted the moment of defeat for the provin- \ncials, with the head of the British column pouring into the \nredoubt. Warren is extended on the earth in the foreground. \nPrescott is located in the background, and in a garb that \ndefies recognition. A figure purporting to be that of Lord \nRawdon — it might as well be called that of any other oflficer, \n— presents its back to the spectator. But for the undoubted \nHkenesses of Putnam, Clinton, Small, and others, the picture \nAvould be chiefly valued as commemorating a British victory. \n\nWould that the artist, whose skill as a historical painter we \ndo not mean to depreciate, had seized the instant when Warren, \nentering the redoubt, his face aglow with the enthusiasm of \nthe occasion, is met by Prescott with the offer of the com- \nmand ; or that other moment, when that brave old soldier \ncalmly paces the rampart, encouragmg his weary and drooping \nmen by his own invincible contempt for danger. \n\nTrumbull's picture was painted in West's studio, and when \nit was nearly completed the latter gave a dinner to some friends. \nSir Joshua Reynolds among others being invited. When Sir \nJoshua entered the room, he immediately ran up to the \" Bun- \nker Hill,\" and exclaimed, \" Why, West, what have you got \nherel this is better colored than your works are generally.\" \n\" Sir Joshua, you mistake, that is not mine, it is the work of \nthis young gentleman, Mr. Trumbull.\" Trumbull relates that \nhe was not sorry to turn the tables upon Sir Joshua, who, oidy \na short time before, had snubbed him unmercifully. \n\nThe question of command on the American side, at Bunker \nHill, has been in former times one of bitter controversy. It \nhas even mingled to some extent with party politics. The \nfriends of Warren, Putnam, Prescott, Pomeroy, and Stark, \neach contended manfully to lodge the glory with their par- \n\n\nBUNICER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 61 \n\nticular hero. The opinion has too long prevailed that nobody \ncommanded in chief, and that tlie battle, taken as a whole, \nfought itself, — or, in other words, was maintained by the \nindividual leaders acting without a responsible head, or any \nparticular concert. Any want of unity is to be ascribed to the \nchaotic state of the Provincial army, and in no small degree, \nalso, to the jealousy between the officers and soldiers of the \ndifferent Colonies. The reflection comes naturally, that if there \nwas no general officer present authorized to command, there \nought to have been one, and that if Putnam did not hold that \nauthority, the conduct of General Ward cannot be understood. \nPrescott could not command the whole field when shut up \nwithin the redoubt. Warren and Pomeroy fought as volun- \nteers. Putnam endeavored to the last to carry out the original \nplan, which was to fortify Bunker Hill. Had he succeeded \nin forming a second line there, the sober judgment is that the \nenemy would have deferred an attack or lost the battle. \n\nPrescott receives the order and the command of the party to \nintrench on the hill. When the intention of the enemy is \ndeveloped, Stark is ordered on and takes his position at the \nrail-fence, on the left of the redoubt. Putnam is in all parts \nof the field, and assumes and exercises command at all points, \nas if by virtue of his rank. Prescott commands within the \nredoubt he erected ; Stark at the rampart of new-mown hay ; \nwhile Putnam, taking liis post on Bunker Hill, where he \ncould observe everything, directs the reinforcements that ar- \nrive where to place themselves. As for Warren and Pomeroy, \nthe two other general officers present during the battle, they \nchoose their stations within Prescott's redoubt, and fight like \nheroes in the ranks. Keither were wUling to deprive the vet- \neran of the honor of defending his fort. \n\nAt this distance of time Putnam's judgment appears to \nhave been sound and well directed. The evidence goes to \nshow that the lines were well manned. The redoubt could not \nfight more than five hundred men to advantage, supposing all \nthe sides attacked at once, — that is, admitting the dimensions \nof the work have been correctly given. Putnam holds a re- \n\n\nG2 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND ITIGHV'AYS. \n\nserve, and attempts to intrench himself on Bunker IIilI. He \nsends to Cambridge for reinforcements, rallies the fugitives, \nand at last plants himself on Prospect Hill like a lion at bay. \nIt cannot be gainsaid that he alone sustained the duty of com- \nmanding the field, in its larger meaning, and was, therefore, in \nchief command. He was in the contest, at the rail-fence, and \nwas himself there, that is to say, all fire and intrepidity. The \npoet thus depicts him at the retreat : — \n\n\"There strides bold Putnam, and from all the plains \nCalls the third host, the tardy rear sustains, \nAnd, 'mid the whizzing deaths that fill the air, \nWaves back his sword, and dares the following war.\" \n\nThe statement that Putnam did not give Prescott an order \nis irreconcilable with the fact that he rode to the redoubt and \ndirected the intrenching-tools there to be taken to Bunker \nHill. Prescott remonstrated, but obeyed the order, as Gen- \neral Heath tells us. \n\nGordon and Eliot, both contemporary historians, give Pres- \ncott the command within the redoubt ; the former attributes to \nPutnam the credit of aiding and encouraging on the field at \nlarge. General Lee, who had every means of knowing the \ntruth, observes in his defence : — ■ \n\n\" To begin witli the affair of Bunker Hill, I xwaj venture to pro- \nnounce that there never was a more dangerous, a moi'e execrable \nsituation, than those brave and unfortunate men (if those who die in \nthe glorious cause of liberty can be termed unfortunate) were placed \nin. They had to encounter with a bod}' of troops, both in point \nof spirit and discipline not to be surpassed in the whole world, \nheaded bj^ an officer of experience, intrepiditj-, coolness, and deci- \nsion. The Americans were composed, in part, of raw lads and old \nmen, half armed, with no practice or discipline, commanded without \norder, and God knows b}' Avhom.\" \n\nThe British army gained no little of its reputation from the \nadmixture of the races of which it was composed. The emu- \nlation between Scotch, Irish, Welsh, and Saxon has been the \nmeans of conquering many a field ; for, when placed side by \nside in action, neither nationality would give way before the \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 63 \n\nother. Of these elements the Irish and Scotch are, of course, \nthe more distinctive. It is said to be a fact, that in one of the \nDnlce of Marlborough's battles, the Irish brigade, on advancing \nto the charge, threw away their knapsacks and everything that \nwould encumber them, all of wliich were carefully picked up \nby a Scotch regiment that followed to support them. The old \nLord Tyrawley used to say, that, to constitute the beau ideal of \nah army, a general should take ten thousand fasting Scotch- \nmen, ten thousand Englishmen after a hearty dinner, and the \nsame number of Irishmen who have just swallowed their second \nbottle. Sir William Howe so well understood these traits, that \nhe gave his soldiers their dinner and plentifully supplied them \nwith grog before advancing to attack the Americans. \n\nThe first British regiments {14th and 29th) despatched to Bos- \nton in 1768 had negro drummers who were used to whip such \nof the soldiers as were ordered for punishment. The bands on \nboard derisively played \" Yankee Doodle \" as the fleet came to \nits anchorage before the town. A little display of force and \na great deal of contempt were deemed sufficient by the minis- \ntry and their instruments to overawe the disaffected colonists. \n\nGage went home to England shorn of his military character, \nto explain Lexington and Bunker HiU to the king. A few \ndays before he sailed he offered a reward of ten guineas for \nthe thief or thieves who in September stole from the Council \nChamber, in Boston, the Public Seal of the Province, his \nprivate seal, and the seal of the Supreme Court of Probate. \nUpon this announcement the wags suggested whether, as his \nExcellency carried his secretary, T. Flucker, with him, \" 't is \nnot as likely that he might have carried them off as any one \nelse.\" \n\nOn the whole, we feel inclined to call the Battle of Bunker \nHill, like that of Inkerman, the soldiers' battle. There were \nsome who cowardly hung back from coming to the assistance \nof their brethren, but the Americans as a body displayed great \nheroism. The day was one of the sultriest, and the loose \nearth, trampled by many feet, rose in clouds of suffocating dust \nwithin the redoubt. The men there had marched and worked \n\n\n64 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nall night witliout relief, and could readily see the enemy's ships \nand floating batteries taking positions to prevent reinforcement \nor retreat. The thunder of the cannon to which they could \nnot reply served to augment the terror of such as were inex- \nperienced in war, but still they faltered not. \n\nMost of the provincials fought in their shirt- sleeves. They \nfound their outer garments insupportable, and threw them off \nas they would have done in a hay-field at home. More than a \nyear after the action the General Court was stiU allowing \nclaims for guns, coats, and other property lost on the field. \nThe men were stripped for fighting, while the British at first \ncame up to the attack in heavy marcliing order, and arrived in \nfront of the Americans, breathless and overheated. But then \nthose \" peasants \" in their shirt-sleeves, our ancestors, \n\n\" Fought like brave men, long and well.\" \n\nThe British soldiers, too, deserve the same meed of praise. \nThey never displayed greater valor, or a more stubborn deter- \nmination to conquer or die. Without vanity we might apply \nto them the remark of Frederick the Great to Prince Ferdi- \nnand : \" You are going to fight the French cousin ; it will be \neasy for you, perhaps, to beat the generals, but never the \nsoldiers.\" General Howe said of the action on the historic \nhill, \" You may talk of your Mindens and your Fontenoys, \nbut for my part, I never saw such carnage in so short a \ntime.\" \n\nAn instance of sang-froid which recalls the celebrated reply \nof Junot occurred in the redoubt. Enoch Jewett of Dunsta- \nble, a young soldier of Captain Ebenezer Bancroft's company, \nBridges's regiment, was standing at one of the angles of the \nembankment beside his captain. Being quite short, he rested \nhis gun against the breastwork, and arranged some cobble- \nstones so that he might be able to get a sight as weU as \nthe rest. While thus occupied, a cannon-ball from one of the \nenemy's frigates passed close above his head, brushing the \ndust of the rampart into his musket so that it was quite full. \nAt this narrow escape Captain Bancroft turned, and said, \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 65 \n\n\" See there, Enoch, they have filled your gun full of dust ! \" \nTo this Jewett replied, \"I don't care, I'll give them dust \nand all ! \" and, suiting the action to the word, discharged his \npiece into the British ranks. \n\nThe ever-famous redoubt was only eight rods square, with a \nsalient in the southern face, which looked towards Charles- \ntown, The entraiice was by the north side, in which an open- \ning had been left. Inside the work the men had raised a plat- \nform of earth on which to stand while they rested their guns \nupon the embankment. The monument stands in the middle \nof the space formerly enclosed by the redoubt, the whole area \nof which should have been included Avithin an iron fence, \ncomposed of suitable emblems. \n\nThe eastern face of the redoubt was prolonged by a waU of \nearth breast-high, for a hundred yards towards the Mystic. \nChastellux, who visited the spot a few years after the battle, \nsaid this breastwork had no ditch, but was only a slight in- \ntrenchment. It was doubtless intended, had there been time, \nto have continued the defences across the intervening space to \nthe river. \n\nNear the base of Bunker Hill, two hundred yards in rear \nof the redoubt, and ranging nearly parallel with its eastern face, \nwas a stone- wall behind which Knowlton, A^dth the Connecticut \ntroops and two pieces of artiUery, posted himself. In front \nof his stone-wall was another fence, the two enclosing a lane. \nKnowlton's men filled the space between with the loose hay \nrecently cut and lying in cocks on the field. This fence \n■extended to the river-bank, which was nine or ten feet above \nthe beach below. Stark's men heaped up the loose stones of \nthe beach until they had made a formidable rampart to the \nwater's edge. \n\nThis made a good defence everywhere except in the space \nbetween the point where the breastwork ended and Knowl- \nton's fence began. Wilkinson says this space was occupied \nby a post and rail fence beginning at the northeast angle of the \nredoubt, and running back two hundred yards in an oblique line \nuntil it intersected the fence previously described. Frothing- \n\n\n66 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nham says this line was slightly protected, a part of it, about \none hundred yards in extent, being open to the enemy. Howe's \nengineer-officer calls it a hedge. On another British map (De \nBerniere's) it appears undefended by any kind of works. By \nall accounts it was the weak point of the defences, and the \nfire of the British artillery was concentrated upon it. \n\nAfter they obtained possession of the hill, the British de- \nstroyed the temporary works of the Americans only so far as \nthey obstructed the free movements of their men and material. \nDr. John Warren, who visited the spot a few days after the \nevacuation, probably refers to the removal of the fences when \nhe says the works that had been cast up by our forces were \ncompletely levelled. Wilkinson at the same time plainly saw \nvestiges of the post and rail fences, examined the redoubt, and \nrested on the rampart. Governor Brooks examined the ground \nin 1818, and entered the redoubt. A visitor in 1824 says \nthe redoubt was nearly effaced ; scarcely a trace of it remain- \ning, while the intrenchment running towards the marsh was \nstill distinct. A portion of this breastwork remained visible \nas late as 1841. Stones suitably inscribed have been placed to \nmark the position of the breastwork, of which a little grassy \nmound, now remaining, is supposed to have formed a part. \n\nThe most singular phase which the battle of Bunker Hill \npresents is that in which we see the provincial officers fighting \nunder the authority of commissions issued to them in the name \nof the reigning monarch of Great Britain. Yet such was the \nfact. Probably the greater number of those officers exercised \ncommand in the name of that king whose soldiers they were \nendeavoring to destroy. The situation seems wholly anoma- \nlous, and we doubt if there were ever before rebels who car- \nried on rebellion with such means. The officers who were made \nprisoners — and some of them were captured in this battle — \ncould only prove their rank by the exhibition of the royal \nwarrant, the same under which their captors acted. \n\nThis state of things would, perhaps, only go to show that \nthe colonists had not yet squarely come up to the point of \nthrowing off their allegiance, were it not that the measure of \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 67 \n\ncontinuing, or even issuing commissions to military and civil \nofficers in the king's name, was prolonged by the legislative \nand executive authority of Massachusetts, long after the Dec- \nlaration of Independence by the Thirteen United Colonies. \n\nThe absurdity of their position seems to have been perfectly \ncomprehended, as the General Court, May 1, 1776, passed an \nAct, to take effect on the first day of June in that year, by. \nwhich the style of commissions, civil and military, was there- \nafter to be in the name of the government and people of \nMassachusetts Bay, in New England. These commissions were \nto be dated in the year of the Christian era, and not in that \nof the reigning sovereign of Great Britain. This renunciation \nof allegiance to the crown — for such in fact it was — was a bold \nact, and placed Massachusetts in the van of the movement to- \nwards independent sovereignty. It has, in reality, been called \na Declaration of Independence by Massachusetts, two months \nearlier than that by the Congress at Philadelphia ; but as Mas- \nsachusetts, as a matter of expediency, virtually annulled her \nown action by subsequent legislation, she cannot maintain \nher claim in this regard. By the Act referred to, the 19th Sep- \ntember, 1776, was fixed as the date when such commissions \nas had not been made to conform with the new law should \nbe vacated. \n\nBut, in consequence of the failui'e of many of the officers of \nthe militia who were in actual service to have their commis- \nsions altered to the new style, and especially in view of the \ndesperate circumstances in which our army found itself after \nthe battle of Long Island, a resolve passed the Massachusetts \nHouse on the 16th September, 1776, as follows : — \n\n\" It is therefore Resolved, That all Military Commissions now \nin force, shall be and continue in full force and effect on the same \nnineteenth day oi September, and from thence to the 19th day ofJaii- \nuary next after, such commissions not being made to conform as \naforesaid notwithstanding.\" \n\nSo that the men of Massachusetts continued to fight against \nGeorge III., with his commissions in their pockets, for more \n\n\n68 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthan six months after the Declaration of Independence by the \nThirteen United Colonies. One of these commissions, dated \nin the reign of King George, and as late as the 10th of De- \ncember, 1776, is in the writer's possession. \n\nCommissions were issued by the Provincial Congress of \nMassachusetts before Bunker Hill, and these did not bear the \nking's name, but expressed the holders' appointment in the \narmy raised for the defence of the colony. Some of the offi- \ncers engaged at Bunker Hill only received their commissions \nthe day before the battle. The two Brewers were of these. \nSamuel Gerrish's regiment, which remained inactive on Bun- \nker Hill during the engagement, Mr. Frothingham supposes \nwas not commissioned ; but Gerrish had received his appoint- \nment as colonel, and James Wesson was commissioned major \non the 19th of May, 1775. \n\nAfter the battle of the 1 7th of June the Provincial Congress \nrecommended a day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer to be \nobserved, in which the Divine blessing is invoked \" on our \nrightful sovereign, King George III.\" * The army chaplains \ncontinued to pray for the king until long after the arrival of \nGeneral Washington, as we learn from Dr. Jeremy Belknap's \naccount of his visit to the camps before Boston, in October, \n\n1775, when he observed that the plan of independence was be- \ncoming a favorite point in the army, and that it was offensive \nto pray for the king. Under the date of October 22d the good \nDoctor enters in his journal : — \n\n\" Preached all clay in the meeting-house. After meeting I was \nagain told by the chaplain that it was disagreeable to the generals \nto pray for the king. I answered that the same authority which \nappointed the generals had ordered the king to be prayed for \nat the late Continental Fast ; and, till that was revoked, I should \nthink it my duty to do it. Dr. Appleton prayed in the afternoon, \nand mentioned the king with much affection. It is too assuming in \nthe generals to find fault with it.\" \n\nJohn Adams, in a letter to William Tudor, of April 24, \n\n1776, says: — \n\n* Boston Gazette, July 3, 1775. \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 69 \n\n\" How is it possible for people to hear the crier of a court pro- \nnounce \" God save the King ! \" and for jurors to swear well and \ntruly to try an issue between our Sovereign Lord the King and a \nprisoner, or to keep his Majesty's secrets, in these days, I can't con- \nceive. Don't the clergy pray that he may overcome and vanquish \nall his enemies yet 1 What do they mean by his enemies ? Your \narmy ? \n\n\" Have people no consciences, or do they look upon all oaths to be \ncustom-house oaths 1\"* \n\nWe have presented the foregoing examples in order to show \nby what slow degrees the idea of separation germinated in the \nruinds of the colonists. Hostilities were begun to regain their \nconstitutional liberties, just as the war of the Great EebeUion \nof 1861 was first waged solely in the vieAv of establishing the \nauthority of the Constitution and the laws. If \" aU history is \na romance, unless it is studied as an example,\" we do not seem \nto have developed in a hundred years a greater grasp of national \nquestions than those hard-thinking and hard-hitting colonists \npossessed. \n\nThe constitution of the Provincial army was modelled after \nthat of the British, The general officers had regiments, as in \nthe king's service. The regiments and companies were in \nnumber and strength similar to those of the regular troops. \nThus we frequently meet with mention of the Honorable Gen- \neral Ward's, Thomas's, or Heath's regiments. This custom \nlapsed upon the creation of a new army. In the British service \nthe generals were addressed or spoken of as Mr. Howe or Mr. \nClinton, except the general-in-chief, Avho was styled \" His Ex- \ncellency.\" Our own army adopted this custom in so far as the \ncommanding general was concerned ; but the subordinate gen- \nerals, many of whom had come from private life, were little in- \nclined to waive their military designation and continue plain \nMister. It is still a rule of the English and American service \nto address a subaltern as Mr. \n\nTo return to the battle, — which was first called by our \ntroops the \" Battle of Charlestown,\" — it is worthy of remem- \n\n* Mass. Hist. Collections, IL viii. \n\n\n70 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbrance that the orders to take possession of the hill were issued \non the same day that Washington was officially notified of his \nappointment to command the army. He had scarcely proceeded \ntwenty miles on the way to Cambridge, when he met the \ncourier spurring in hot haste with the despatches to Congress \nof the battle. The rider Avas stopped, and the General opened \nand read the despatch, while Lee, Schuyler, and the other gen- \ntlemen who attended him eagerly questioned the messenger. It \nwas on this occasion that Washington, upon hearing that the \nmilitia had withstood the fire of the regulars, exclaimed, \" Then \nthe liberties of the country are safe ! \" \n\nA variety of conflicting accounts have been given of the \nbattle by eyewitnesses ; the narrators, as is usual, seeing only \nwhat passed in their own immediate vicinity. On the day of \nthe evacuation of Boston by the British Major Wilkinson ac- \ncompanied Colonels Reed and Stark over the battle-ground, and \nthe latter pointed out to him the various positions and described \nthe parts played by the different actors. The vestiges of the \npost and rail fence on the left, and of the stone-wall Stark \nordered \" his boys \" to throw up on the beach of the Mystic, \nwere still plainly visible. It was before this deadly stone-wall \nwhere the British light-infantry attacked that John Winslow \ncounted ninety-six dead bodies the next day after the battle. \nStark told Wilkinson that \" the dead lay as thick as sheep in \na fold,\" and that he had forbidden his men to fire until the \nenemy reached a point he had nuarked in the bank, eight or \nten rods distant from his line. With such marksmen as Stark's \nmen were, every man covering his adversary, it is no wonder \nthe head of the British column M^as shot in pieces, or that it \ndrifted in mutilated fragments away from the horrible feu \nd'enfer. \n\nBefore the action, when some one asked him if the rebels \nAvould stand fire. General Gage replied, \" Yes, if one John \nStark is there ; for he is a brave fellow.\" Through his glass \nthe General saw Prescott standing on the crest of the einbank- \nment. \"Who is he?\" inquired the General of Councillor \nWillard, Prescott's brother-in-law. He Avas told. \"Will he \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 71 \n\nfight?\" demanded Gage. \"To the last drop of blood in his \nveins ! \" replied Willard. Prescott wore, on this day, a single- \nbreasted blue coat with facings turned up at the skirt, a top- \nwig and three-cornered hat. \n\nThe American field-hospital during the battle was fixed at \nthe old Sun Tavern, on the north side of Bunker Hill. Dr. \nEustis, Andrew Craigie, and others officiated there. Some of \nthe wounded early in the engagement were, however, removed \nto the mainland. The same tavern was one of the places \nnamed by the Committee of Safety for granting permits to go \ninto Boston in April, 1775. \n\nThe American prisoners were treated with extreme inhuman- \nity. They were conveyed over to Long Wharf in Boston, and \nallowed to He there all night without any care for their wounds, \nor other resting-place than the ground. The next day they \nwere removed to Boston Jail, where several died before their \nfinal transfer to Halifax. General Washington earnestly en- \ndeavored to mitigate the sufi'erings of these unfortunate men ; \nbut the status of rebel prisoners had not yet been established, \nor a cartel of exchange arranged. \n\nBoth parties were exhausted by the battle. The Americans \nfeared an immediate advance on Cambridge ; the British, ap- \nprehending an assault from the fresh troops of the Americans, \nintrenched on the northern face of Bunker Hill, Avhile the 5 2d \nregiment bivouacked, on the night of the 17th, in the main \nstreet of the town, so as to cover the mill-pond causeway and \nthe approach over the Neck. Dr. Church, in his defence, says, \n\" Your Honor well knows what was our situation after the \naction of Bunker Hill ; insomuch that it was generally believed, \nhad the British troops been in a condition to pursue their \nsuccess, they might have reached Cambridge Math very Httle \nopposition.\" \n\nThe minority in Parliament were very severe in their remarks \non the conduct of their troops at Lexington and Bunker Hill. \nHowe's forcing the lines thrown up by a handful of raw, \nundisciplined militia in the course of a summer's night was \nludicrously compared to a Marlborough's victory at Blenheim. \n\n\n72 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe death of Warren was the greatest loss the American \ncause sustained on that day. The spot where he fell, while \nlingering in a retreat his soul rebelled against, is marked by a \nstone in the northerly part of the monument grounds. The \nlast words he was heard to utter were : \" I am a dead man. Ficrht \non, my brave fellows, for the salvation of your country.\" His \nremains were buried on the held, with such disregard of the \nclaims of rank, as a man and a citizen, that only the supposi- \ntion that Gage feared to place them in the hands of his (War- \nren's) friends for political reasons can account for the indignity \nwith which the body was treated. As for the Americans with \nwhom he fought, it is not known that they made the least \neffort to obtain the remains. He died and received the burial \nof an American rebel, a name of which his descendants are not \nashamed. \n\n\" No useless coffin enclosed his breast, \n\nNot in sheet or in shroiid we bound him, \nBut he lay like a warrior taking his rest, \nWith his martial cloak around him.\" \n\nWhen he entered the redoubt to which Putnam had directed \nhim as the post of honor, Prescott addressed him, saying, \" Dr. \nWarren, do you come here to take the command 1 \" \" No, \nColonel,\" replied the Doctor ; \" but to give what assistance I \ncan, and to let these damned rascals see \" — pointing to the \nBritish troops — \"that the Yankees will fight.\" This was \nthe relation of Dr. Eustis, who was within the redoubt, to \nGeneral Wilkinson. Eustis, afterwards governor of Massachu- \nsetts, was a student with Warren, and had been commissioned \nsurgeon of Gridley's regiment of artillery. After the battle \nhe attended the wounded, and was placed in charge of the \nmilitary hospital established at Kev. Samuel Cook's house at \nMenotoniy, now Arlington. \n\nThe slaughter of British officers at Bunker Hill was terrible \nindeed. The bloodiest battles in which British soldiers had \nbeen engaged suifered by the comparison. Quebec and Min- \nden were no longer recollected with horror. Spendlove, Major \nof the 43d, who died of his wounds here, liad been gazetted \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 73 \n\nfour times for wounds received in America ; namely, with \nWolfe, on the Plains of Abraham, at the reduction of Mar- \ntinico, the taking of Havana, and at Bunker Hill. There is no \ndoubt Pitcairn was singled out for his share in the Lexington \nbattle; his person was well known in the American ranks. \nDearborn says he was on horseback, and the only mounted \nofficer of the enemy on the field. Abercrombie, borne away \nAvith a mortal hurt, begged his men not to kill his old friend \nPutnam. Each of these officers commanded battalions. \n\nThe effect on the new levies in England was marked. An \nofficer who resigned, upon being asked the reason, replied, that \nhe wanted to see a little more of the world. \" Why don't \nyou go to America with the troops 1 \" said the querist. \" You \nwill then have an opportunity of seeing the world soon.\" \n\" Yes,\" replied the officer, \" the other world I believe I should \nvery soon ; but as I am not tired of this, I do not choose to set \nout on my journey yet.\" \n\nThese celebrated heights were eventually cultivated, and pro- \nduced astonishing crops of hemp, etc., so that in this respect \nthey followed in the train of the memorable Plains of Abra- \nham, which Lord Dalhousie, when he was governor-general of \nCanada, ordered to be ploughed up and seeded in grain. This \nwas laid hold of by the wits, who perpetrated the following \nepigram : — \n\n\" Some care for honor, others care for groats, — \nHere Wolfe reaped glory and Dalhousie oats.\" \n\nThe Freemasons have the honor of taking the initiative in a \nstructure to commemorate the heroic death of their Grand- \nMaster, Joseph Warren. In 1794 King Solomon's Lodge of \nCharlestown erected a Tuscan column of wood, elevated on a \nbrick pedestal eight feet square, and surmounted by a gilded \nurn, bearing the age and initials of the illustrious dead, \nencircled with Masonic emblems. The whole height of the \npillar Avas twenty-eight feet. \n\nThe face of the south side of the base bore the following \ninscription : — \n\ni \n\n\n74 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nErected, A. D. MDCCXCIV. \n\nBy King Solomon's Lodge of Freemasons. \n\nConstituted in Charlestown, 1783, \n\nIn Memory of \n\nMajor-General Joseph Warren, \n\nAnd his Associates, \n\nWlio were slain on this memorable spot, June 17, 1775. \n\n\nNone but they who set a just value on the blessings of Libei-ty are worthy \nto enjoy her. \n\nIn vain we toiled ; in vain we fought ; we bled in vain ; if you, our off- \nspring, want valor to repel the assaults of her invaders. \n\n\nCharlestown settled, 1628. \nBurnt, 1775. Rebuilt, 1776. \n\n\nThe enclosed land given by the Hon. James Russell. \n\nThis structure stood for about thirty years, but was in a \nstate of ruinous dilapidation before the movement to raise on \nthe spot its giant successor caused its disappearance. A beauti- \nful model in marble of tlie first monument may still be seen \nwithin the present obelisk. \n\nWilliam Tudor of Boston, the accomplished scholar, was the \nfirst to draw public attention to the building of a memorial on \nBunker Hill commensurate with the event it was intended to \ncelebrate. He pursued the subject until the sympathies and \nco-operation of many distinguished citizens Avere secured. Dan- \niel Webster was early enlisted in the cause, and he stated that \nit was in Thomas H. Perkins's house, in Boston, that William \nTudor, William Sullivan, and George Blake adopted the first \nstep towards raising a monument on Bunker Hill. Dr. John C. \nWarren, nephew of the General, purchased three acres of land ■ \nlying on the hill, in November, 1822, thus preserA'ing for the \nmonument site an area that was about to be sold. A meeting \nof those friendly to the enterprise was held in the Merchants' \nExchange, in Boston, in May, 1823, Avhich resolved itself, \nunder an act of incorporation passed June 7, 1823, into the \nBunker Hill Monument Association. Governor John Brooks \nwas the first president. \n\nIn 1824 Lafayette, then on his triumphal tour through \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 75 \n\ntlie United States, paid a visit to the scene of the battle, and \naccepted an invitation to assist at the laying of the corner- \nstone on the ensiling anniversary. Meantime the directors \nwere considering the plan for the monument. A committee \nfor this object was formed of Messrs. Daniel Webster, Loammi \nBaldwin, George Ticknor, Gilbert Stuart, and Washington \nAUston, and some fifty plans appeared to compete for the \noffered j^remium. This committee, able as it was, did not \nmake a decision ; but a new one, of wliich General H. A. S. \nDearborn, Edward Everett, Seth Knowles, S. D. Harris, and \nColonel T. H. Perkins were members, eventually made choice \nof the obelisk as the simplest, and at the same time the grand- \nest, form in which their ideal could be expressed. \n\nIt is stated that Horatio Greenough, then an undergraduate \nat Harvard, sent to the committee a design, with an essay, in \nwhich he advocated the obehsk with much power and feeling. \nThe design finally adopted was Greenough's, modified by the \ntaste and judgment of Colonel BaldAvin. Solomon Willard, \nthe architect, made the working plan. \n\nThe occasion of lajdng the corner-stone was made as im- \nposing as possible. The day was everything that could be \ndesired. The military and civic bodies appeared to great advan- \ntage, Avhile the presence of Lafayette gave an added eclat to \nthe pageant. The streets of Boston were thronged with an \nimmense multitude, and again Charlestown was invaded by an \narray with banners, but with more hospitable intent than the \ndisplay of fifty years before had witnessed. Some forty sur- \n\"vdvors of the battle appeared in the ranks of the procession. \nTheir course was followed by the loudest acclamations, and the \nwaving of many handkercliiefs wet with the tears of the gentler \nsex ; while many a manly eye could not refuse its tribute to a \nspectacle so touching as were these visible relics of the battle. \nOne aged A^eteran stood up in the midst of the multitude, and \nexhibited the simple equipments he wore when a soldier, of \nPrescott's Spartan band. ISTot Webster, not even the noble \nFrenchman, so moved the hearts of the people, as did these \nold men, with their white hairs, their bowed fonns, and their \nvenerable aspect. \n\n\n76 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe ceremony of laying the corner-stone proceeded under \nthe direction of King Solomon's Lodge ; Mr. Webster, then \npresident of the Monument Association, and the Marquis as- \nsisting. The plate, containing a long inscription, was depos- \nited in its place, and the exercises were continued in a spacious \namphitheatre erected on the northerly slope of the hill. Here \nMr. Webster delivered his oration, and the day finished with a \nbanquet on Bunker Hill. The corner-stone proved not to be \ndeep enough to resist the action of frost, and it was therefore \nsubsequently relaid. The box containing the inscription was \neventually placed under the northeast angle of the monument. \n\nThe erection of the monument proceeded under continued \ndifficidties, the work frequently halting for want of funds, \nuntil its completion on the morning of July 23, 1842, when \nthe last stone was raised to its place. To the patriotic efforts \nof the ladies is due the final realization of the original design. \nThe association had been compelled not only to sell off a por- \ntion of its land, but also to diminish the height of the obelisk ; \nbut the proceeds of the fair conducted by the ladies in the \nhall of Quincy Market (Boston) realized $ 30,000, and the vote \nwhich had been adopted to consider the monument completed \nat one hundred and fifty-nine feet of altitude was rescinded. \n\nThe same great orator who had presided at the incipient \nstage of the structure addressed another vast audience on the \nday of dedication in 1843. But of the twoscore living rep- \nresentatives of the army of constitutional liberty there re- \nmained but eleven individuals to grace the occasion by their \npresence. They were, J. Johnson, N. Andrews, E. Dresser, \nJ. Cleveland, J. Smith, P. Bagley, R. Plaisted, E. Reynolds, \nJ. Stephens, N\". Porter, J. Harvey, and I. Hobbs. \n\nMr. Webster was himself on that day, and his apostrophe to \nthe gigantic shaft M'as as grand and noble as the subject was \nlofty and sublime. Hawthorne, who certainly did not want \nfor creative power, has declared that he never found his imagi- \nnation much excited in the presence of scenes of historic \ncelebrity ; but this was not the experience of the hundred \nthousand spectators who stood beneath the majestic shaft, awed \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 77 \n\nby the presence of those men who brought the extremes of our \nnational existence together, and moved by the recollections \nwhich the theatre itself inspired. \n\nMr. Webster applied this test to his auditory when, waving \nhis hand towards the towering structure, he said, \" The power- \nful speaker stands motionless before us.\" He was himself \ndeeply moved. The sight of such an immense sea of upturned \nfaces — he had never before addressed such a multitude — he \nafterwards spoke of as aAvful and oppressive. The applause \nfrom a hundred thousand throats surged in great waves around \nthe orator, completing in his mind the parallel of Old Ocean.' . \n\nWithin the little building appropriated to the keeper is a \nmarble statue of General Warren, in citizen's dress, by Dexter. \nThe figure stands on a beautiful pedestal of verd-antique marble, \nthe gift of the late Dr. J. C. AVarren. The artist's conception was \nexcellent in theory, but the peculiar pose of the head effectually \nprevents the features being seen by the spectator, except in \nprofile, as the work is now placed. The statue, to be viewed \nto advantage, should be situated in the middle of a suitable \napartment, or where it might have space enough to permit an \nunderstanding of the subject at a single coup d'oeil. Copley's \nportrait, in Faneuil Hall, was the artist's study for the head. \nMr. Dexter has been singularly successful in his studies from \nUfe, as well as ideal subjects. Colonel Thomas H. Perkins was \nthe prime mover of the statue, and with John WeUes, the two \nnoble brothers Amos and Abbott Lawrence, and Samuel Apple- \nton, contributed half the necessary funds. \n\nWe were not a little amused at a little outcropping of that \nspecies of fiunlveyism in this place which we have hitherto sup- \nposed peculiar to oux English cousins. The Prince of Wales \nand suite having visited the spot on the occasion of his sojourn \nin Boston, the autographs of \"Albert Edward,\" \" Newcastle,\" \n\" Lyons,\" etc. were carefully removed from the visitors' book, \nand have been artistically framed, in connection with an account \nof the visit, in which the names of the gentlemen who were in- \ntroduced to H. E. H. were not forgotten. We looked around in \nvain for any memento of the visit of a President of the United \n\n\n78 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nStates such as is accorded to the heir presumptive of the British \nthrone. The object of the structure being made known, the \nPrince is said to have remarked pleasantly, \" It is time these \nold matters were forgotten.\" Nevertheless, we do not believe \nhe will pull down the Nelson monument or the Wellington \nstatue, when he comes to the tlirone of his ancestors. \n\nA celebrated statesman of Europe, whom Cromwell named \n\" the wise man of the Continent,\" once sent his son on a visit \nto foreign courts with only this admonition, \" Go, my son, and \nsee by what fools the world is governed.\" \"We do not say that \nsuch was Victoria's counsel to her eldest son, but we do affirm \nthat it would not be altogether without significance in this \nnineteenth centiuy. When shall we so conduct ourselves to- \nwards foreign dignitaries as to secure their respect and our \nown? \n\n\" For you, young potentate o' W , \n\nI tell your Highness fairly, \nDown pleasure's stream wi' swelling sails \n\nI 'm tauld ye 're driviug rarely ; \nBut some day ye may gnaw your nails, \n\nAn' curse your folly sairly, \n\nTliat e'er ye brak Diana's pales, \n\nOr rattl'd dice wi' Charlie.\" \n\nThe great Whig convention of September 10, 1840, during \nthe Harrison campaign, brought a monstrous gathering to this \nspot. The speech of the occasion was made by Daniel Web- \nster, but the exercises were brought to an abrupt close by a \nviolent shoAver of rain. It was at this time Mr, Webster made \nhis famous remark, \"Any rain, gentlemen, but the reign of \nMartin Van Buren.\" \n\nSince that time we have had, on Bunker HiU, Mason of Vir- \nginia, who little dreamed, we think, that his next view of the \nmonument would be from Fort Warren, as a prisoner of war, \nwith a misty political perspective^ — and Davis in Faneuil \nHall ; but no Toombs has ever called the roll of his slaves \nhere, and now, thanks to the teachings of temple and shaft ! \nnot a manacle remains in all the land. \n\nThe obelisk is two lumdred and twenty feet higli, exceeding \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT, 79 \n\nthe London Monument built by Wren to commemorate the \nGreat Fire, and sometimes stated to be the highest in the \nworhl, by eighteen feet. The shaft is composed of ninety \ncourses of stone, of which six are in the foundation. The \npinnacle consists of a single mass weighing two and a half \ntons, fitly crowning the greatest specimen of commemorative \narchitecture America affords. The interior of the shaft is a \nhollow cone, ascended by a spiral staircase to the summit, \nwhere the visitor finds himself within a circular chamber, \nbreathless, perhajDs, with his fatiguing climb, but with an un- \nsurpassed prospect of land and sea outspread before him. \n\n\" There architecture's noble pride \n\nBids elegance and splendor rise ; \nHere Justice, from her native skies, \n\nHigh wields her balance and her rod ; \nThere Learning, with his eagle eyes, \n\nSeeks Science in her coy abode.\" \n\nWithin this chamber are the two little brass cannon, Han- \ncock and Adams, taken out of Boston by stealth in September, \n1775, and presented by Massachusetts to the Monument Associa- \ntion in 1825. While the London Monument and the Column \nVenddme have been much affected by suicides, we do not remem- \nber that such ah attempt has ever been made from this shaft. \n\nOf those wlio will be more prominently identified with Bun- \nker Hni Monument, Amos Lawrence will be remembered as a \nbenefactor, aiding it liberally with purse .and earnest personal \neffort at a time when the friends of the project were almost \novercome by their discouragements. He succeeded in obtain- \ning the active co-operation of the Charitable Association, and, \nby his wUl, set apart a sum to complete the monument and \nsepure the battle-field, — a provision his executors were not \ncalled upon to fulfil, as Mr. Lawrence lived to see the com- \npletion of the memorial shaft in which he was so deeply \ninterested. \n\nAlthough the architect of many noble public edifices, the \nmonument will doubtless be considered as Willard's chef \ndCoeuvre. A nominal compensation was all he would accept \n\n\nso HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nfor liis services. He secured the quarry from which the granite \nwas obtained, and appears among the list of contributors set \ndown for a generous sum. \n\nEdward Everett gave heart and voice to the Avork, as he \nafterwards did to the rescue of Mount Vernon from the hazard \nof becoming a prey to private speculation. \n\n*[n taking our leave of an object so familiar to the citizens \nof Massachusetts, and which bears itself proudly up without a \nsingle sculptured line upon its face to tell of its purpose, we \nyet remember that its stony finger pointing to the heavens has \na moral which lips by which all hearts were swayed — when \nshall we hear their like again 1 — disclosed to us in these words. \n\" To-day it speaks to us. Its future auditories will be the suc- \ncessive generations of men, as they rise up before it, and gather \naround it. Its speech will be of patriotism and courage, of \ncivil and religious liberty, of free government, of the moral \nimprovement and elevation of mankind, and of the immortal \nmemory of those who, with heroic devotion, have sacrificed their \nlives for their country.\" \n\nBunker Hill, on which the British erected a very strong for- \ntress, was named for George Bunker, an early settler. It is \nnow crowned by the steeple of a Catholic church, which, thanks \nto its lofty elevation, can be seen for a considerable distance \ninland. The liill is already much encroached upon, and must \nsoon follow some of its predecessors into the waters of the \nriver. This eminence. Mount Benedict, and Winter Hill are \nsituated in a range from east to west, each of them on or near \nMystic River. Mount Benedict (Ploughed Hill) is in the mid- \ndle, and is the lowest of the three ; its summit was only half a \nmile from the English citadel where we stand, and which Sir \nHenry CUnton commanded in 1775. \n\nAs late as 1840 the summit and northern face of the hiU \nretained the impress of the enemy's extensive works. The \nutmost labor and skill the British generals could command \nwere expended to make the position impregnable. It could \nhave been turned, and actually was turned, by a force crossing \nthe mill-pond causeway to its rear ; but its fire commanded \n\n\nBUNKER HILL AND THE MONUMENT. 81 • \n\nevery point of approach, and its strong ramparts effectually \nprotected the garrison. There is evidence that General Sulli- \nvan intended making a demonstration in force in this direction \nduring the Avinter of 1775, but some untoward accident pre- \nvented the accomplishment of his design. \n\nIt becomes our duty to refer to the almost obliterated ves- \ntiges of Avhat was once the great artery of traffic between Boston \nand the falls of the Merrimack. It seems incredible that the \nMiddlesex Canal, the great enterprise of its day, should have \nso quickly faded out of recollection. We have traced its scanty \nremains through the towns of Medford and Woburn, and have \nfound its grass-groAvn basin and long-neglected tow-path quite \ndistinct at the foot of Winter HiU in the former town, and \nalong the railway to Lowell in the latter. In many j^laces \nhouses occupy its former channel. The steam caravan rushes \nby with a scream of derision at the ruin of its decayed \npredecessor, and easily accomplishes in an hour the distance \nthe canal-boats achieved- in twelve. \n\nIn 1793 James Sullivan of Boston, Oliver Prescott of Gro- \nton, James Winthrop of Cambridge, Loammi Baldwin of \nWoburn, Benjamin HaU, Jonathan Porter, and others of Med- \nford, were incorporated, and begun the construction of the canal. \nIt was at first contemplated to unite the Merrimack at Chelms- \nford with the Mystic at Medford, but subsequent legislation \ncarried the canal to Charles River by a lock at Charlestown \nNeck, admitting the boats into the mill-pond, and another by \nwhich they gained an entrance to the river. The boats were \nreceived into the canal across the town of Boston, and unloaded \nat the wharves of the harbor. The surveys for the canal were \nmade by Weston, an English engineer, and Colonel Baldwin \nsuperintended the excavation, etc. In 1803 the sweet waters \nflowed through and mingled with the ocean. Superseded by \nthe railway, the canal languished and at length became disused. \nWhile it existed it furnished the theme of many a pleasant \nfiction of perils encountered on its raging stream ; but now it \nhas gone to rest with its fellow, the old stage-coach, and we \nare dragged Avith resistless speed on our journey in the train of \n\n4* F \n\n\n82 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe iron ironster. Peace to the relies of the canal, it was slow \nbut sure. , There was not a reasonable doubt but that you would \nawake in the morning in the same world in which you went \nto sleep ; but now you repose on a luxurious couch, to awake \nperhaps in eternity. \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. \n\n\n83 \n\n\nCHAPTEE IV. \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. \n\n\" From camp to camp thro' the foul womb of night, \nThe hum of either army stilly sounds, \nThat the fix'd sentinels almost receive \nThe secret whispers of each other's watch.\" \n\nShakespeare. \n\nTHE military position between the \nMystic and Charles will be better \nunderstood by a reference to the \nroads that in 1775 gave communi- \ncation to the town of Boston. \n\nFrom Eoxbiu:y the main road \npassed through Brookline and \nLittle Cambridge, now Brighton, \ncrossing the causeway and bridge \nwliich leads directly to the Col- \nleges. This was the route by \nwhich Lord Percy marched to \nLexington. \n\nFrom Charlestown, after passing the Neck by an artificial \ncauseway, constructed in 1717, two roads diverged, as they \nnow do, at what was then a common, now known as Sullivan \nSquare. Near the point Avhere these roads separated was Anna \nWhittemore's tavern, at which the Committee of Safety held \nsome of its earliest sessions in 1774, and which had been an inn \nkept by her father as early as the famous year '45, and perhaps \nearlier. Maiden Bridge is located upon the site of the old \nPenny Ferry, over which travel to the eastward once passed. \n\nThe first of these roads, now known as Washington Street, \nin Somerville, skirts the base of Prospect Hill, leaving the \nMcLean Asylum on the south, and conducting straight on to \n\n\n84 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe Colleges. By this road the Americans marched to and \nretreated from Bunker Hill. Lord Percy entered it at what is \nnow Union Square, in Somerville, and led his worn battalions \nover it to Charlestown. \n\nThe second road proceeded by Mount Benedict to the sum- \nmit of Winter Hill, where it divided, as at present; one branch \nturning northward by General Eoyall's to Medford, while the \nother pursued its way by the powder-magazine to what is now \nArlington, then known as Menotomy. The road over Winter \nHill, by the magazine, which it has been stated was not laid \nout in 1775, is denominated a country road as early as 1703, \nand appears on the map included in this volume. \n\nBesides these there were no other roads leading to the \ncolonial capital. The shore between Avas yet a marsh, unim- \nproved, except for the hay it afforded, and reached only at a \nfew points by unfrequented cartways. A causeway from the \nside of Prospect Hill, and a bridge across what is now Miller's \nRiver, gave access to the farm at Lechmere's Point. From the \nroad first described a way is seen parting at what is now Union \nSquare, crossing the river just named by a bridge, and leading \nby a circuitous route to Inman's house in Cambridgeport, and \nfrom thence to the Colleges. This road, from the nature of the \nground, could have been but little used. \n\nMount Benedict is the first point where we encounter the \nAmerican line of investment during the siege of Boston, after \npassing Charlestown Neck. In Revolutionary times it was \ncalled Ploughed Hill, probably from the circumstance X)f its \nbeing cultivated when the Americans took possession, while \nWinter and Prospect Hills were still untilled. The hill was \nwithin short cannon-range of the British post on Bunker Hill, \nand its occupation by the Americans on the 26th of August, \n1775, was expected to bring on an engagement; in fact, \nWashington offered the enemy battle here, but the challenge \nwas not accepted. \n\nPloughed Hill was fortified by General Sullivan under a \nsevere cannonade, the working party being covered by a detach- \nment of riflemen, or riflers, as they were commonly called, \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 85 \n\nposted in an orchard and under the shelter of stone-walls. \nFinding they were not attacked, the Provincials contented \nthemselves with stationing a strong picket-guard on the hill, \nusually consisting of about half a regiment. Poor's regiment \nperformed a tour of duty there in November, 1775. A guard- \nhouse was built within the work for the accommodation of the \npicket, which was relieved every day. General Lee was much \nincensed because an officer commanding the guard allowed \nsome boards to be pulled off the guard-house for fuel, and \nadministered a sharp reprimand. \n\nThe Continental advanced outpost was in an orchard in front \nof Ploughed Hill. In summer the poor fellows were not so \nbadly off, but in the inclement winter they needed the great \nwatch-coats every night issued to them before they went on \nduty, and which the poverty of the army required them to turn \nover to the relieving guard. Here, as at Boston Neck, the \npickets were near enough to each other to converse freely, — \na practice it was found necessary to prohibit in orders. The \nreliefs on both sides could be easily counted as they marched \ndown from their respective camps. The rules of civilized war- \nfare which respect sentinels seem, at first, to have been little \nobserved at the Continental outposts. We had some Indians \nposted on the lines who could not understand why an enemy \nshould not be killed under any and aU circumstances. The \nSouthern riflemen, also, were very much of this opinion, each \nbeing, Corsican-like, intent on \"making his skin.\" The British \nofficers were soon inspired with such fear of these marksmen \nthat they took excellent care to keep out of range of their \ndreaded rifles. \n\nIt is time to relate an incident which occurred at this out- \npost, where the parleys and flags that were necessary on this \nside of the lines were exchanged. Very soon after General \nLee's arrival in camp he took occasion to despatch a character- \nistic letter to General Burgoyne, in which he argued the ques- \ntion of taxation, lamented while he censured the employment \nof his quondam friends, Gage, Burgoyne, and Howe, in the \narmy of subjugation, and ridiculed the idea which prevailed in \n\n\n86 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe British army of tlie cowardice of tlie Americans. This let- \nter was written in Philadelphia before the battle of Bunker \nHill, and the general was the bearer of his own missive as far \nas Cambridge. \n\nIt was ijrobably not later than the morning after his arrival \nin camp that Lee went down to the British lines on Charles- \ntown Neck, — then pushed about one hundred and tifty yards \nbeyond the isthmus, — hailed the sentinel, and desired him to \ntell his officers that General Lee was there, and to inform \nGeneral Burgoyne that he had a letter for him. The letter \nwas to have been sent into Boston by Dr. Church, but was \ntaken by Samuel Webb (afterwards a general), aid to General \nPutnam, to the lines near Bunker Hill, where Major Bruce of \nthe 38th — the same who fought a duel with General Pigot — \ncame out to receive it. \n\nWebb advanced and said : \" Sir, liere is a letter from \nGeneral Lee to General Burgoyne. Will you be pleased to \ngive it to him 1 As some part of it requires an immediate \nanswer, I shall be glad you would do it directly; and, also, here \nis another letter to a sister of mine, Mrs. Simpson, to whom I \nshould be glad you would deliver it.\" The Major gave him \nevery assurance that he would deliver the letter to Mrs. Simp- \nson himself and also to General Burgoyne, but could not do it \nimmediately, as the General was on the other lines, meaning \nBoston Neck. \" General Lee ! \" exclaimed Major Bruce. \" Good \nGod, sir ! is General Lee there 1 I served two years with him \nin Portugal. Tell him, sir, I am extremely sony that my profes- \nsion obliges me to be his opposite in this unhappy affair. Can't \nit be made up 1 Let me beg of you to use your influence, and \nendeavor to heal this unnatural breach.\" \n\nUpon hearing that General Lee had a letter for him, Bur- \ngoyne had sent out a trumpeter, of his own Light Horse, over \nBoston Neck to receive it, but then learned by a second letter \nfrom Lee how his first had been forwarded. In his second com- \nmunication Lee endeavored to obtain an exact list of the British \nlosses at Bunker Hill, which great pains had been taken to \nconceal. Major Bruce told Mr. Webb that Colonel Aber- \n\n\nTHE COXTINEiS'TAL TRENCHES, \n\n\n87 \n\n\ncvombic of the 22d Avas dead of a fever, — suppressing the fact \nthat the fever was caused by a fatal wound, — and it was not \nuntil this parley took place that the Americans knew of Pit- \ncairn's death. Lee, on his part, enclosed an account of the \nAmerican losses in that battle. \n\nAs mention has been made of the rifle regiment, the nucleus \nof Morgan's celebrated corps, and as we are now upon the scene \nof their earliest ex- \nploits, a brief account \nof the leader and his \nmerry men may not \nbe uninteresting. \n\nThe riflemen were \nraised by a resolve of \nCongress,passedJune \n14, 1775, which au- \nthorized the employ- \nment of eight hun- \ndred men of this arm, \nand on the 22d of \nthe same month two \ncompanies additional \nfrom Pennsylvania were voted. The expresses despatched by \nCongress to the persons deputed to raise the companies had in \nmany cases to ride from three to four hundred miles, yet such \nwas the enthusiasm mth which officers and men entered into \nthe affair, that one company joined Washington at Cambridge \non the 25th of July, and the whole body, numbering 1,430 \nmen, arriA^ed in camp on the 5th and 7th of Augiist. The \nwhole business had been completed in less than two months, \nand without the advance of a farthing from the Continental \ntreasury. All had marched from four to seven hundred miles, \nencountering the extreme heat of midsummer, yet they bore \nthe fatigue of their long tramp remarkably Avell. They were \nchiefly the backw^oodsmen of the Shenandoah Valley, and \nbrought their own long rifles with which they kept the savages \nfrom their clearings or knocked over a fat buck in full career. \n\n\nFLAG OF MORGANS REGIMENT. \n\n\n88 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nMichael Cresap, the same whom Logan, the Indian chief, charged \nwith the cold-blooded murder of his women and cliildren, com- \nmanded one of these companies, and Otho H. Williams, who \nafterwards became Greene's able assistant in the South, was \nlieutenant of another. \n\nIt is not to be wondered at that men who in boyhood had \nbeen punished by their fathers for shooting their game any- \nwhere except in the head should soon become the terror of \ntheir foes, or that they should be spoken of in the British camp \nas \" shirt-tail men, with their cursed twisted guns, the most \nfatal widow-and-orphan makers in the world.\" \n\nTheir dress was a white or brown Hnen hunting-shirt, orna- \nmented mth a fringe, and seciu'ed by a belt of wampum, in \nAvhich a knife and tomahawk were stuck. Their leggings and \nmoccasins were ornamented in the Indian fasliion with beads \nand brilliantly dyed porcupine-quills. A round hat completed \na costume which, it will be conceded, was simple, appropriate, \nand picturesque. Tall, athletic fellows, they seemed to despise \nfatigue as they welcomed danger. They marched in Indian file, \nsilent, stealthy, and flitting like shadows though the forests, to \nfall on the enemy at some unguarded point. \n\nThese riflemen were the oidy purely distinctive body of men \nour Revolution produced. In costume, as in their mode of \nfighting, they were whoUy American. In physique and martial \nbearing they were worthy to be compared Avith the Higlilanders \nof Auld Scotland. The devotion of the men to their leader \nwas that of clansmen to their chief. Indian fare in their \npouches and a blanket on their backs found them ready for \nthe march. \n\nWe have only to picture to ourselves a \"Deer-slayer\" or a \n\" Hawk-eye \" to see one of these hard-visaged, keen-eyed, \nweather-beaten woodsmen stand before us. For a skirmish or \nan ambush such men were unrivalled, but they could not with- \nstand the bayonet, as was shown in the battle of Long Island, \nwhere the rifle regiment, then commanded by Colonel Hand, \nwas broken by a charge. Their weapon required too much \ndeliberation to load ; for, after emptying their rifles, the enemy \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 89 \n\nwere upon them before they could force the patched ball to the \nbottom of the barrel. \n\nColonel Archibald Campbell, of the 71st Highlanders, who, \nwith a battalion of his regiment, was taken prisoner in Boston \nharbor and detained at Reading, admired the rifle-dress so \nmuch that it was reported he had one made for his own use, \nwith Avhich it was supposed he meant to disguise himself and \neff\"ect his escape. The officer who made this discovery described \nthe Highland colonel as \" a damned knoAving fellow,\" and adds, \n\" If he should get away, I think he would make a formidable \nenemy ; for he is the most soldier-like, best-looking man I \never saw.\" \n\nMorgan Avas a plain, home-bred man. He was very familiar \nwith his men, whom he always called his boys ; but this \nfamiharity did not prevent his exacting and receiving impHcit- \nobedience to his orders. Sometimes, in case of a secret expedi- \ntion, the men ordered on duty were to be in readiness by three \no'clock in the morning. They were then mounted behind \nhorsemen provided for the purpose, and before daybreak would \nthus accomplish a day's march for foot-soldiers. Morgan told \nhis men to shoot at those who wore epaulettes rather than the \npoor fellows who fought for sixpence a day. He carried a \nconch-shell, which he was accustomed to sound, to let his men \nknow he still kept the field. His corps was sent to Gates to \ncounteract the fear inspired by Burgoyne's Indian allies, who \nwere continually ambushing our outposts and stragglers. It did \nnot take them long to accomplish this task. Burgoyne after- \nwards said, not an Indian could be brought within sound of a \nrifle-shot. The British general himself owed his life on one \noccasion to another officer being mistaken for him, who received \nthe bullet destined for his general. Washington estimated the \ncorps at its true value, and, although he lent it temporarily to \nGrates, he very soon applied for its return ; but Gates begged \nhard to be permitted to retain it, and his factory at Saratoga \nwas due in no small degree to its presence. \n\nThe first colonel of the rifle regiment was William Thomp- \nson, by birth an Irishman. He had been captain of a troop of \n\n\n90 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nhorse in the service of Pennsylvania in the French -war of \n1759-60, and before the Eevolution resided at Fort Pitt, since \nPittsburg. He was made a brigadier early in 1776, and, hav- \ning joined General Sullivan in Canada, was made prisoner at \nTrois Rivieres. Thompson was succeeded, in March, 1776, by \nEdward Hand, his lieutenant-colonel, who had accompanied the \nRoyal Irish to America in 1774 as surgeon's mate, but who \nresigned on his arrival. He was afterwards a brigadier, and \nfought to the close of the war. \n\nDaniel Morgan, who, in' less than a week after the intelli- \ngence of the battle of Lexington, enrolled one hundred and \nseven men, with whom he marched to Cambridge, had been \na wagoner in Braddock's army in 1755. For knocking \ndown a British lieutenant he had received five hundred \nlashes without flinching. He seems at one period to have \nfallen into the worst vices of the camp, but before the Eevo- \nlution had become a correct member of society. Washing- \nton despatched him with Arnold to Quebec in September, \n1775, where, after having forced his way through the first \ndefences, he was made prisoner while paroling some captives \nthat he himself had taken ; so that a common fate befell both \nMorgan and Thompson, and on the same line of operations. \nMorgan, after his exchange, was ajDpointed colonel of the 11th \nVirginia, a rifle-corps, November 12, 1776. Of his subse- \nquent career we need not speak. \n\nChastellux relates that when some of Rochambeau's troops \nwere passing a riA'^er between Williamsburg and Baltimore, \nwhere they were crowded in a narrow passage, they were met \nby General Morgan, who, seeing the wagoners did not under- \nstand their business, stopped and showed them how to drive. \nHaving put everything in order, he proceeded quietly on \nhis way. \n\nThe best account we have of Colonel Morgan's appearance \ndescribes him as \" stout and active, six feet in height, not too \nmuch encumbered with flesh, and exactly fitted for the pomp \nand toils of war. The features of his face were strong and \nmanly, and his brow thoughtful. His manners plain and \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. \n\n\n91 \n\n\ndecorous, neither insinuating nor repulsive. His conversation \ngrave, sejitentious, and considerate, unadorned and uncapti- \nvating. \" \n\nMount Benedict is associated with an event which has no \nparallel, we believe, in the history of our country, namely, the \ndestruction of a religious institution by a mob. The ruins of \nthe Convent of St. Ursula long remained an evidence of what \npopular rage, directed by superstition and lawlessness, has been \nable to accomplish in a community of high average civilization. \nFor half a century, these ruins served to emphasize a condi- \ntion which has as completely disappeared as have the ruins \nthemselves, by the grading down of the hill-top, Avhere they \nstood, to its present level. \n\n\n'\\i^^^v£c \n\n\nTHE URSULINR CONVENT IN RUINS. \n\n\nIt must be admitted that the Jesuit fathers who planted the \nmissions of their order in every available spot in the New \nWorld possessed an unerring instinct for choosing fine situa- \ntions. \"^Hierever their establishments haA^e been reared civili- \nzation has followed, until towns and cities have grown up and \n\n\n92 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nenvironed their primitive cliapels. Whatever may be said of \nthe order, it has left tlie finest specimens of ancient architec- \nture existing on the American continent. We need only cite \nQuebec, Mexico, and Panama to support this assertion. \n\nThe choice of Mount Benedict, therefore, for the site of a \nconvent is only another instance of the good judgment of the \nCatholics. The situation, though bleak in winter, commands a \nsuperb view of the meadows through which the Mystic winds, \nand of the towns which extend themselves along the opposite \nshores. Beyond these are seen the gray, rocky ridges, resem- \nbling in their undulations some huge monster qf antiquity, \nwhich, coming from the Merrimack, form the most remarkable \nvalley in Eastern Massachusetts, and through which, in the dim \ndistance of bygone ages, the river may have found its outlet to \nthe sea. Perched on their rugged sides appear the cottages \nand villas of a population half city, half rural, but altogether \ndistinctive in the well-kept, thrifty appearance of their homes. \n\nOn the night of the 11th of August, 1834, the convent and \noutbuildings were destroyed by incendiary hands. The flames \nraged 'uathout any attempt to subdue them, until everything \ncombustible was consumed, the bare walls only being left \nstanding. The firemen from the neighboring towns were pres- \nent with their engines, but remained either passive spectators \nor actors in the scenes that ensued. A feeble effort was made by \nthe local authorities to disperse the mob, — an effort calcidated \nonly to excite contempt, unsupported as it was by any show \nof force to sustain it. The affair had been planned, and the \nconcerted signal expected. \n\nFor some time previous to the final catastrophe rumors had \nprevailed that Mary St. John Harrison, an inmate of the con- \nvent and a candidate for the veil, had either been abducted or \nsecreted where she could not be found by her friends. As this \nbelief obtained currency, an excitement, impossible now to \nimagine, pervaded the community. Threats were openly made \nto burn the convent, but passed unheeded. Printed placards \nwere posted in Charlestown, announcing that on such a night \nthe convent would be burned, but even this did not arouse the \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 93 \n\nauthorities to action. At about ten o'clock on the night in \nquestion a mob, variously estimated at from four to ten thou- \nsand persons, assembled within and around the convent \ngrounds. A bonfire was lighted as a signal to those who were \napprised of what was about to take place. The Superior of the \nconvent, Mrs. MofFatt, with the other inmates, were notified to \ndepart from the doomed building. There were a dozen nuns, \nand more than fifty scholars, some of whom were Protestants, \nand many of a tender age. The announcement filled all with \nalarm, and several swooned with terror. The unfortunate \nfemales were at length removed to a place of security, and the \nwork of destruction began and concluded without hindrance. \nThe mob did not even respect the tomb belonging to the con- \nvent, but entered and violated this sanctuary of the dead. \n\nA general burst of indignation followed this dastardly out- \nrage. Eeprisals from the Catholics were looked for, and it was \nmany years before the bad blood created by the event subsided. \nThe better feeling of the community was aroused ; and few \nmeetings in Old Faneuil Hall have given more emphatic utter- \nance to its voice than that called at this time by Mayor Lyman, \nand addressed by Harrison Gray Otis, Josiah Quincy, Jr., and \nothers. Measures of security were adopted, and once more, in \nthe language of the wise old saw, \" the stable door was shut \nafter the steed had escaped.\" \n\nThe Catholics showed remarkable forbearance. On the day \nfollo^ving the conflagration their bishop, Fenwick, contributed \nby his judicious conduct to allay the exasperation of his flock ; \nand even Father Taylor, the old, earnest pastor of the seamen, \nwas listened to with respectful attention by a large assemblage \nof Irish Catholics, who had gathered in the immediate neigh- \nborhood of their church, in Franklin Street, Boston, on the \nsame occasion. \n\nIn reverting to the conduct of the firemen, it should be re- \nmembered that Colonel Thomas C. Amory, then chief engineer \nof the Boston Fire Department, repaired to the convent at the \nfirst alarm, and did all in his power to bring the firemen to \ntheir duty. Finding this a hopeless task, he then visited the \n\n\n94. msTorjc mansions and highways. \n\nbishop, ;iii(l advised him to take such precautions as tlie danger- \nous temper of the mob seemed to demand. \n\nMany arrests were made, and some of the rioters were con-, \nvicted and punished. Chief Justice Shaw Avas then on the \nbench, and John Davis governor of the State. Both exerted \nthemselves to bring the offenders to justice, and to vindicate \nthe name of the old Commonwealth from reproach. \n\nThe form of the main building of the convent, which faced \nsoutheast, wa.s a parallelogram of about thirty-three paces long \nby ten in breadth ; what appear to have been two wings joined \nit on the west side. The buildings Avere partly of brick and \npartly of tlie blue stone found abundantly in the neighboring \nquarries ; the principal edifice being of three stories, with a \npitched roof, and having entrances both in the east and west \nfronts. The grounds, which were very extensive, and em- \nbraced most of the hill, were terraced down to the highway and \nadorned with shrubbery. A fine orchard of several acres, in \nthe midst of which the buildings stood, extended on the west \n([uite to the limits of the enclosure, where, until recently, were \nvisible the remains of the convent tomb. The hill is now beinn; \nlevelled with a rapidity that is fast obliterating every vestige \nof its original appearance, as nature left it. Mount Benedict \nalready belongs to the past, wliatever regret we may feel at \nthe disappearance of so beautiful an eminence. \n\nThe convent was opened on the 17th of July, 182G. It is \nbut little known that there was a similar establishment in \nBoston, contiguous to the Cathedral in Franklin Street, \nthough no incideht drew the popular attention to it. The \ninformation upon which the mob acted in the sack of the \nMount Benedict institution proved wholly groundless. \n\nWhen, we last visited the ruins the scene was one of utter \nloneliness. Year by year the walls had been crumbling away, \nuntil the elements were fast completing what the fire had spared. \nThe snow enshrouded the heaps of debris and the jagged out- \nlines of the walls with a robe as spotless as that of St. Ursula \nherself. For nearly forty years these blackened memorials of tlie \nlittle community of St. Angela had been visible to thousands \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 95 \n\njourneying to and from the neighboring city. The lesson has \nbeen sharp, but effectual. Whoever should now raise the torch \nagainst such an establishment w'ould be deemed a madman. \n\nOur interest is aAvakened at the mention of Ten Hills Farm \nin connection with the plantation of Governor Winthrop, who \ngave it the name by which it is still known, from the ten little \nelevations which crowned its uneven surface, but of which \nfew traces remain visible to this day. \n\nThe grant to Winthroj) was made September 6, 1631, of six \nhundred acres of land \"near his house at Mistick,\" from which \nit woidd appear that the governor already had a house built \nthere which was probably occupied by his servants. We are \nnow speaking of a time nearly coincident with the settlement \nof Boston, when no other craft than the Indian canoe had ever \ncleft the waters of the Mystic, and when wild beasts roamed \nthe neighboring forests. \n\nGovernor Winthrop tells his own story of what he, the \noriginal Avhite inhabitant of Ten Hills, experienced there in \n1631: — \n\n\" The governour, being at his farm house at Mistick, walked out \nafter supper, and took a piece in his hand, supposing he might see a \nwolf, (for they came daily about the house, and killed swine and \ncalves, etc. ;) and being about half a mile off, it greAv suddenly dark, \nso as, in coming home, he mistook his path, and went til he came \nto a little house of Sagamore John, which stood empty. There he \nstayed, and having a piece of match in his pocket, (for he always \ncarried about him match and a compass, and in summer time snake- \nweed,) he made a good fire near the house, and lay down upon some \nold mats which he found there, and so spent the night, sometimes \nwalking by the fire, sometimes singing psalms, and sometimes getting \nwood, but could not sleep. It was (through God's mercy) a warm \nnight; but a little before day it began to rain, and having lio cloak, \nhe made shift by a long pole to climb up into the house. In the \nmorning there came thither an Indian squaw, but, perceiving her \nbefore she had opened the door, he ban-ed her out; yet she stayed \nthere a great while essajdng to get in, and at last she went away, \nand he returned safe home, his servants having been much perplexed \nfor him, and having walked about, and shot off pieces, and hallooed \nin the night, but he heard them not.\" \n\n\n96 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nSavage supposes that Ten Hills was the governor's summer \nresidence for the first two or three years; Boston being, after \nthe removal of his house there, his constant home. It has \nalso been usually considered as the place where Winthrop built \nhis little bark, the Blessing of the Bay, the first English keel \nlaunched in the jurisdiction of Massachusetts Colony. This \nevent occurred on the 4th of July, 1631, and in October the \nBlessing spread her canvas and bore away on a voyage to the \neastward. \n\nThe farm of Ten Hills was owned at the time of the Revolu- \ntion by Robert Temple, a royalist ; and the house he occupied \nstood on the supposed site of Governor Winthrop's until de- \nmolished a few years ago. The following description applies \nto its appearance when the writer last visited it. \n\nThe mansion-house has a spacious hall, and a generous pro- \nvision of large square rooms. As you ascend the stairs, in \nfront of you, at the first landing, is a glass door, opening into \na snug little apartment which overlooks the river. This must \nhave been a favorite resort of the family. The wainscoting and \nother wood-work is in good condition, if a general filthiness be \nexcepted, inseparable from the occupancy of the house by \nnumerous families of the laborers in the neighboring brick- \nyards. All is now changed by the levelling of the adjacent \nhills beyond the possibility of recognition. \n\nEobert Temple of Ten Hills was an elder brother of Sir John \nTemple, Bart., the first Consul-General from England to the \nUnited States. His eldest daughter became Lady Dufferin, \nMr. Temple sailed for England as early as May, 1775 ; but, the \nvessel being obliged to put into Plymouth, Massachusetts, he \nwas detained and sent to Cambridge camp. Mr. Temple's \nfamily continued to reside in the mansion at Ten Hills after \nhis attempted departure, under the protection of General Ward, \nThe Baronet married a daughter of Governor Bowdoin, while \nhis brother's wife was a daughter of Governor Shirley. \n\nPrevious to his coming to Ten\" HiUs, Robert Temple had \nresided on ISToddle's Island, in the elegant mansion there after- \nwards occupied by Henry Howell Williams. Although himself \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 97 \n\na tenant, the Temples had in times past OMTied the island. Sir \nThomas, who was i^roprietor in 1667, had been formerly Gov- \nernor of Nova Scotia. It is related of him, that once, when on \na visit to England, he was presented to Charles II., who com- \nplained to him that the colonists had usurped his prerogative \nof coining money. Sir Thomas replied, that they thought it \nno crime to coin money for their own use, and presented his \nMajesty some of Master Hull's pieces, on which was a tree. \nThe king inquiring what tree that was, the courtier answered, \n\"The royal oak which protected your Majesty's life,\" — a reply \nwhich charmed the king and caused him to look with more \nlixvor on the offending colony. If one of Master Hull's shillings \nbe examined, we are not greatly surprised that his Majesty so \nreadily believed the pine to be an oak. \n\nTen Hills was the landing-place of Gage's night expedition \nto seize the powder in the province magazine, in September, \n1774. The next day the uprising in Middlesex took place. \nAnd on Saturday, the 3d, the soldiers were harnessed to four \nfield-pieces, which they dragged to Boston JSTeck, and placed in \nbattery there. The Lively frigate, of twenty guns, came to her \nmoorings in the ferry-way between Boston and Charlestown, \nand the avenues to \"the doomed town were shut up as effectually \n})y land as they had been by water. \n\nThe vicinity of Ten Hills was that chosen by Mike Martin \nfor the robbery of Major Bray. It was near where the old \nlane leading to the Temple farm-house, and now known as \nTemple Street, enters the turnpike, that the robber overtook \nthe chaise of his victim. After his condemnation, Martin \nrelated, with apparent gusto, that the pistol which he presented \nat the Major's head was neither loaded nor cocked, but that \nthe latter was terribly frightened and trembled like a leaf. \nMrs. Bray tried to conceal her watch, but was assured by the \nhighwayman that he did not rob ladies. Even now the place \nseems lonesome, and is not the one we should select for an \nevening promenade. \n\nOn a little promontory whicli overlooked the Mystic the \nAmericans erected a battery during the siege. At this point \n\n5 G \n\n\n98 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe river makes a westerly bend, so that a hostile flotilla must \napproach for some distance in the teeth of a raking fire \nfrom this redoubt. This was fully proved when the enemy \nbrought their floating batteries within range to attack the \nAvorking party on Ploughed Hill and enfilade the road. A \nnine-pounder mounted in this redoubt sunk one of the enemy's \nbatteries and disabled the other, Mdiile an armed vessel which \naccompanied them had her foresail shot away, and was \nobliged to sheer off. The next day (Monday, September 28) \nthe enemy sent a man-of-war into Mystic River, drew some of \ntheir forces over from Boston to Charlestown, where they \nformed a heavy column of attack, and seemed prepared to \nmake a bold push, — as was fully expected in the American \ncamp, — but Bunker Hill was too recent in their memories, \nand Ploughed Hill had been made much stronger than the \nposition they had carried with so much loss of life on the 17th \nof June; the combat was declined. \n\nLeaving the redoubt, a hundred yards higher up the hill we \nfound traces of another work, with two of tlie angles quite \nclearly defined. Owing to the wholesale demolition which \nhas been going on here, all these years, it has become quite \nimpossible to relocate these very interesting relics of the \nsiege of Boston. \n\nGeneral Sullivan, on first coming to camp, took up his quar- \nters at Medford, where Stark and his New Hampshire men \nwere already assembled. In a letter to the Committee of \nSafety, the general lamented extremely that the New Hamp- \nshire forces were without a chaplain, and were obliged to attend \nprayers with the Eh ode-Islanders on Prospect Hill. We are \nignorant whether the men of New Hampshire required more \npraying for than the men of Rhode Island, but we fuUy recog- \nnize the fact that in those days an army chaplain was not a \nmere ornamental appendage, dangling at the qiieue of the staff. \nGeneral Sullivan was absent from camp in November, 1775, \nhaving been sent to Portsmouth on account of the alarm occa- \nsioned by the burning of Falmouth. He took with him some \nartillery officers and a company of the rifle regiment. About \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 99 \n\nthe same time General Lee went to Rhode Island on a similar \nmission. \n\nSamuel Jaques, a later resident of Ten Hills Farm, is worthy \nof remembrance as a distinguished agriculturist. Born in 1776, \na few weeks after the declaration of formal separation from \nEngland, he died in 1859, just at the dawn of a scarcely less \nmomentous convulsion, thus spanning with his own life the \ngreatest epochs of our history. \n\nColonel Jaques was in habits and manners the type of the \nEnglish country gentleman. When a resident of Charlestown, \nhe had, like Cradock's men at Mystic Side in 1632, impaled a \ndeer-park. He also kept his hounds, and often wakened the \nechoes of the neighboring hills with the note of his bugle or the \ncry of his pack, bringing the drowsy slumberer from his bed by \nsounds so unwonted. We trust no incredulous reader will be \nstartled at the assertion that the hills of SoraerviUe have re- \nsounded with the fox-hunter's \" tally-ho ! \" \n\nColonel Jaques, who acquired his title by long service in the \nmiHtia, was engaged for a time during the hostilities of. 1812 \nin the defence of the shores of the bay, being stationed at \nChelsea in command of a small detachment. He was twenty- \neight years a resident of the old Temple Manor, and discharged \nthe duties of hospitality in a manner that did no discredit to \nthe ancient proprietor. The farm was also occupied at one time \nby Elias Hasket Derby, who stocked it with improved breeds \nof sheep. \n\nThe place has now been much disfigured -with excavations, to \nprocure the clay, which is excellent for brickmaking, and that \nbranch of industry has been extensively carried on for many \nyears by the sons of Colonel Jaques. In time a large portion \nof the soil has been removed, and is, or was, standing in many \na noble edifice in the neighboring city, — a gradual but sure \nprocess of annexation. The vein of clay, which is tmced from \nWatertown to Lynn, underlies Ten Hills Farm. \n\nBrickmaking was very early pursued by the settlers, one, \nat least, of the houses they built in the first decade of the set- \ntlement being still in existence. The size of bricks Avas regu- \n\n\n100 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nlated by Charles I., hence the name statute-bricks. The very \nfirst vessels which arrived at Salem had bricks stowed under \ntheir hatches, which were doubtless used in the erection of \nsome of the big chimney-stacks that still exist there, their in- \ndestructible materials rendering them as useful to-day as when \nthey were originally burnt. In 1745 all the bricks used in \nreconstructing the works at Louisburg and Annapolis Royal \nAvere shipped from Boston to General Amherst. The costly \nand disastrous examples of Portland, Chicago, and Boston have \nonly confirmed the experience that bricks are more durable \nthan stone. The sun-dried bricks of Nineveh and Babylon are \nstill in existence, while the Roman baths of Caracalla and Titus \nhave withstood the action of the elements far better than the \nstone of the Coliseum or the marble of the Forum. \n\nWinter Hill was fortified immediately after the battle of \nBunker Hill, and garrisoned by the commands of Poor, Stark, \nReed, Mansfield, and Doohttle. The policy of placing the sol- \ndiers of the same colony together was at first observed, and \nwliile Greene on Prospect Hill had his Rhode-Islanders, Sulli- \nvan on AVinter Hill quartered in the midst of the men of New \nHampsliire. Webb's and Hutchinson's regiments were under \nSullivan's orders in November, 1775. \n\nThis, being the extreme left of the American interior line of \ndefence, was fortified with great assiduity, especially as it \ncovered the land apiiroach to the town of Medford, and, to \nsome extent, the navigation of the Mystic. The principal work \nwas thrown up directly across the road leading over the hill, \nBOW Broadway, at the point where the Medford road diverges ; \nand, except at the northwest angle, wherfe it was entered by the \nlast-named highway, Avas enclosed on all sides. It was in form \nan irregular pentagon, with bastions and deep fosse. A breast- \nwork conforming with the present direction of Central Street \njoined the southwest angle. This plan of redoubt and breast- \nwork was the almost stereotyped form of the American works. \nA hundred yards in advance of the fort were outAVorks, in \nAvhich guards were nightly posted. When Central Street was \nbeing made, the remains of the intrenchiuent Avcre exposed, and \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 101 \n\nare also remembered by some of the older people in the vacant \nland of Mr. Byam on the north side of the road. \n\nLet us take a view of Sullivan's camp and fortress as it was \nin November, 1775. At eight in the morning the di'ummers \nand lifers of all the regiments on the hill assemble in the \ncitadel and beat the troop. The martial sounds are taken up \non Prospect HiU, and passed on to Heath at Cambridge. The \nrefrain echoes along the line until it reaches the veteran Thomas \nat Roxbury, where it is wafted across the waters of the bay to \nthe ears of the king's sentinel on the ramparts of the castle. \n\nThe details for pickets and guards are now paraded and \ninspected by the brave Alexander Scammell, who has followed \nhis general and friend from the law-office at Exeter to be his \nmajor of brigade in the Contmental service. The camp is now \nfully astir, and the detachments for fatigue are in motion. \nSome march to the neighboring forests, where they are em- \nployed in cutting wood for fuel and material for fascines. \nSoon the frosty air is vocal with the blows of their axes. \nOthers are employed in mending the roads, strengthening the \nworks, or deepening the ditches ; stiU others are busy erecting \nbarracks for the approacliing winter. Bustle and preparation \nhave invaded the former solitude of the green slopes, and the \nbeautiful verdure is furrowed with yawning trenches. \n\nThere never were such men for building earthworks as the \nAmericans. Fort after fort rose before the astonished vision of \nthe Britons, like the fabled palace of Aladdin. Now Breed's \nHill, then Lechmere's Point, and finally Dorchester Heights, \nshowed what workers those Yankees were. Gage was aston- \nished, Howe petrified ; both were outgeneralled before Boston. \n\nIn fine weather the men ofi\" duty engage in a thousand \noccupations or amusements. Some read, others write, while \nnot a few are cleaning their trusty firelocks or elaborately carv- \ning their powder-horns, to be handed down as heirlooms to \ntheir children's children. \n\nUntil barracks were built, officers and men made for them- \nselves huts, after the manner described by Mr. Emerson, the \ngeneral being accommodated in an old house on the hill. The \n\n\n102 • HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nofficers exchanged visits, attended garrison courts-martial, — \nwhich might be held in Nixon's hut or Doolittle's barracks, — \nor rambled through the adjacent lines. Card-playing, the \nsoldiers' favorite pastime, was strongly discountenanced by the \ncommander-in-chief ; but we believe we should only have to lift \nthe corner of the old sail that served as a door to the huts to \nsee group after group, rebels that they were, paying court to \nking and queen. At night a bit of tallow candle, stuck in the \nsocket of a bayonet, serves to illuminate the soldier's cabin and \nprolong his pleasures till the \"drums at tattoo admonish him that \nthe day is done. \n\nWithin the lines a regiment went on duty every night. The \ntour came round often ; the service was hard. A company was \nstationed at Medford to prevent the men straggling from camp ; \nand not a few officers, seduced by the comforts of a clean bed \nor the witchery of a pair of bright eyes, were in the habit of \nabsenting themselves from camp to sleep at Mystic, as Medford \nwas then called. \n\nThere Avas in each brigade a field-officer of the day. When \na colonel mounted guard he y^as attended by his own surgeon \nand adjutant. He was in the saddle from troop to retreat, \ncatching, perhaps, a mouthful at the picket, or sharing pot-luck \nwith some comrade while on his rounds. The advanced lines \nmust be visited twice a day, and if there should be an alarm, \nthe officer of the day must be at the threatened point. The \npost at Ten Hills, the valley redoubts, the detachments at \nMystic and the Powder House, Avere comprised within his \ncharge. He must not sleep or remove his arms during his tour. \n\nMrs. John Adams, in her letters, has left some admirable \nportraits of the distinguished characters of the Kevolutionary \narmy. Speaking of General Sullivan, she says : — \n\n\" I drank coffee one day with General Sullivan upon Winter Hill. \nHe appears to be a man of sense and spirit. His countenance de- \nnotes him of a warm constitution, not to be very suddenly moved, \nbut, when once roused, not very easily lulled; easy and social; well \ncalculated for a militaiy station, as he seems to be possessed of those \npopular qualities necessary to attach men to him.\" \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 103 \n\nA London paper said, in 1777: \"General Sullivan, taken \nprisoner by the king's troops, was an attorney, and only laid \ndown the pen for the sword about eight months ago, though now \na general.\" He was found by the Hessians after the disastrous \nbattle of Long Island, secreted in a cornfield ; was searched, \nand General Washington's orders taken from him. Among \nthe ridiculous stories with which the foreign officers regaled \ntheir home correspondents, the Hessian, Heeringen, in de- \nscribing this affair, says : \" John SuUivan is a lawyer, but \nbefore has been a footman ; he is, however, a man of genius, \nwhom the rebels wiU very much miss.\" In the same letter \nLord Stirling, who was also made prisoner, is spoken of as an \n\" echajype de faviille, who is as much like Lord Granby as one \negg is like another.\" General Putnam, says the same authority, \nis a butcher by trade. This battle of Long Island Avas where \nthe Hessians became so terrible to their adversaries. They re- \npeatedly halted under a heavy fire to dress their lines and \nadvance with Old-Woi'ld precision. Their officers took care to \ntell tliem the rebels would give no quarter, consequent!}'' they \nput to death all who fell into their hands. Some of the \nAmericans were found after the action pinned to trees with \nbayonets. At Trenton these bugbears were stripped of their \nlions' skins. \n\nGeneral Sullivan was rather short in stature, but ■\\vell-made \nand active. His complexion was dark, his nose prominent, his \neye black and piercing. His countenance, as a whole, was har- \nmonious and agreeable. \n\nScammell had been a schoolmaster and a surveyor before he \nbecame Sullivan's confidential clerk. In 1770 he was a mem- \nber of the Old Colony Club, the first society in New England \nto commemorate publicly the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. \nHe stood six feet two inches, — just the height of the com- \nmander-in-chief, — and fought on the hardest fields of the \nRevolution. Just as final victory was about to crown tlie \nefforts of the Americans, Scammell fell at YorktoM'n, a victim \nto the ignorance or brutality of a Hessian vidette. When this \nunlucky event occurred he was in command of a picked corps \nof light infantry. \n\n\n104 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThere are two actors in the same great drama of which we are \nendeavoring to rearrange the scenes, whose acquaintance prob- \nably begun here, and whose fates long after became interwoven. \nThese two were James Wilkinson and Aaron Burr. Both joined \nthe army at Cambridge as volunteers in 1775. Washington \ngave the former, who first united himself with Thompson's rifle- \ncorps, a captaincy in Eeed's regiment. At the time of this \nappointment he was a member of General Greene's military \nfamily on Prospect Hill, and did not, therefore, join his regi- \nment until he reached New York. Willcinson took part in the \npossession of Cobble HiU, Lechmere's Point, and Dorchester \nHeights, and has recorded his opinion that Howe might have \nforced Wasliington's lines at almost any time prior to January, \n1776. \n\nAs is well known, Wilkinson became Gates's adjutant-gen- \neral in the campaign against Burgoyne, and was the bearer of \nthe official despatches of the surrender to Congress. He was \nimplicated in the Conway cabal, but became estranged from \nGates, and a challenge passed between them. Wilkinson says \nthat Gates came to him at the last moment with an apology, \nand that the duel did not take place, though it was currently \nreported in the army to the contrary. A general officer, writ- \ning from White Plains, September, 1778, says : \" General \nGates fought a duel with Mr. Wilkinson. General Gates's \npistols would not give fire, but flashed twice. Wilkinson's \ngave fire, but the balls did not take effect.\" \" Wllky, \" as he \nwas called in the army, was elegant in person and manners. \n\nBurr and Matthias Ogden were recommended to Sullivan by \nGates in November, 1 775, for positions, in reward for past ser- \nvices. Both accompanied Arnold to Quebec. Colonel Burr's \neventful career is familiar. His eye was remarkably piercing \nand brilliant. With talents equal to any position, he seems to \nhave been formed by nature for a conspirator. The courtliness \nof his manner and address gave him a fatal ascendency over \nboth sexes, of which he did not scruple to avail himself The \ndeath of Hamilton and the ruin of Blennerhassett painfully \nillustrate the career of Aaron Burr. \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 105 \n\nIt is not a little curious that Arnold, Burr, and Silas Deane, \nwho, it is beHeved, was more sinned against than sinning, \nwere from the same State. It is also a coincidence that the \ntwo former in their young, chivalric days should have fallen in \nlove with two young ladies of the New England capital, both \ncelebrated for their beauty. Arnold lost his heart to the \n\" heavenly Miss Deblois,\" and laid at her feet the spoils of rich \nstuffs which he had ignobly plundered from the shops of Mon- \ntreal. His suit was, however, unsuccessful ; for when did a \nBoston girl become the mother of traitors 1 Burr, on his part, \nimproved a visit which Madam Hancock, the governor's aunt, \nwas paying his uncle at Fairfield, to lay siege to the heart of \nDorothy Quincy, who was then under the protection of Madam \nHancock. Aaron M'as then a handsome young fellow of very \npretty fortune ; but the dowager, who was apprehensive that he \nmight defeat her purpose of uniting Miss Quincy to her nephew, \nwould not leave them a moment together. If we are to believe \nreport, the lady was not insensible to the insinuating manners \nof young Burr. \n\nJohn Vanderlyn, the painter, owed his rescue from the ob- \nscurity of a village blacksmith's shop to the acuteness and \npatronage of Colonel Burr. The latter, while journeying in the \ninterior of New York, Avas much struck by a little pen-and-ink \ndrawing that hung over the fireplace in the bar-room of a \ntavern. The lad was sent for, and, on parting. Colonel Burr \nsaid to him : \" Put a shirt in your pocket, come to New York, \nand inquire for Aaron Burr ; he will take care of you.\" The \nboy followed his patron, who sent him to Paris, where he \nachieved a reputation that justified the sagacity of the then \nVice-President of the United States. \n\nAmong the officers who served on Winter Hill, and who \nsubsequently acquired fame, were Henry Dearborn, John Brooks, \nand Joseph Cilley. Dearborn was a captain in Stark's regi- \nment, Brooks major of Bridges', and Cilley of Poor's regiment. \nDearborn and Brooks became very distinguished in military and \ncivil life : both testified their affection for Alexander ScammeU \nby naming a son for that lamented officer ; both fought with \nconspicuous valor at Saratoga. \n\n\n106 \n\n\nHISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS, \n\n\nDuring the battle of Monmouth a corps commanded by- \nColonel Dearborn acquitted themselves with such undaunted \nbravery that they attracted particular notice. A Southern \nofS&cer of rank rode up to Dearborn and inquired \" who they \nwere, and to what portion of America that regiment belonged.\" \nThe Colonel replied in this laconic and soldierly manner : \n\" Full-blooded Yankees, by G-d, sir, from the State of New \nHamiDshire.\" * The same anecdote has been related of Colonel \nCilley. \n\nThe Germans of Burgoyne's army, to the number of about \n\nnineteen hundred, took \nup their quarters in the \nbarracks and huts on \nWinter Hill which had \nbeen used by the Ameri- \ncans. General Riedesel, \nwith his family, were ac- \ncommodated in a farm- \nhouse, where he was \nobliged to content him- \nself with a room and a \ngarret, with nothing bet- \nter than straw for a couch. \nThe General's biographer \ncontinues the description: \n\" The landlord was very \nkind, but his other half was a -^'eritable dragon, doing every- \nthing to offend and annoy her obnoxious guests. But, as it was \nimpossible to find another place, they were obliged to put uj) \nwith everything rather than be driven from the house.\" After \na sojourn here of three weeks, the General and Madame \nRiedesel were furnished with excellent quarters at Cambridge. \nSeveral of the officers Avere allowed to reside at that place and \nat Medford, but none were allowed to pass into Boston without \nspecial permission. The officers and soldiers had the privilege \nof going, first a mile, and eventually three miles, from their \n\n* Mrs. Wan-en. \n\n\nHESSIAN FLAG. \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TRENCHES. 107. \n\nbarracks. Colonel William Raymond Lee commanded on \nWinter Hill at the time of tlie arrival of the Hessians. \n\nThese mercenaries were employed, it is said, at the instiga- \ntion of Lord George Germaine. The British government stipu- \nlated with the Landgrave of Hesse to pay £ 30 sterling for \nevery man that did not return, and £ 1 5 sterling for each one \ndisabled, so that it was commonly said, after a battle in which \nthe Hessians were engaged, that their loss was the Landgrave's \ngain. SimQar treaties were made with the Duke of Brunswick \nand the Count of Hanau. \n\nWe make the following extracts, which serve to convey an \naccurate idea of the condition of things on Winter Hill as they \nappeared to the German prisoners, from General Riedesel's \nmemoirs : — \n\n\" The camp of the prisoners was encircled by a chain of outposts. \nThe officers, who were permitted to go somewhat beyond the camp, \nwere obliged to promise in writing, on their word of honor, to go jio \nfarther beyond it than a mile and a half. Within this space are the \nvillages Cambridge, Mystic, or Medford, and a part of Charlestown. \nIn these places the generals and brigadiers could select lodgings, for \nwhich, of course, they had to pay dearly. After a while this per- \nmission was extended to other staff and subaltern officers. Only a \nfew of the Brunswickers availed themselves of this permission, pre- \nferring to remain in their miserable barracks, and thus share all \ninconveniences with their men. \n\n\" The camp was located on a height, which, to a distance of eight \nmiles, was surrounded with woods, thus presenting a splendid view \nof Boston, the harbor, and the vast ocean. The barracks had been \nbuilt in 1775, at the time that the Americans first took up arms, and \nupon these very heights took their first position against General \nGage. These heights were fortified. \n\n\" When the fatigued and worn-out troops arrived here on the 7th \nof November they found not the least thing for their support. A \nlittle straw and some wood was everything that was furnished to the \nsoldiers. The officers and privates were obliged to repair the bar- \nracks as well as they could, although they had neither tools nor ma- \nterials with which to do it. Necessity, however, which is the mother \nof invention, accomplished incredible things.\" \n\nThe question, \" Will Yankees fight 1 \" had to be settled in \n\n\n108 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe Revolution. It might be supposed that Lexington and \nBunker Hill would have given a final answer to such queries, \nbut they did not. The Now England troops, when they came \nto join those from the Southern Colonies, were mercilessly ridi- \nculed by the chivalrous Southrons. It was Puritan and Cava- \nlier over again. Hear the avowal of a Pennsylvania officer, \nwho evidently spoke the feeling of his section : — \n\n\" In so contemptible a light were the New England men regarded, \nthat it was scarcely held possible to conceive a case which could be \nconstrued into a reprehensible disrespect of them.\" \n\nThe officers came in for a degree of ridicule second only to \nthe rank and file. \n\n\" So far from aiming at a deportment which might raise them \nabove their privates, and thence prompt them to due respect and \nobedience to their commands, the object was, by hiimility, to pre- \nserve the existing blessing of equality ; an illustrious instance of \nwhich was given by Colonel Putnam, the chief engineer of the army, \nand no less a personage than the nephew of the major-general of \nthat name. ' What ! ' says a person, meeting him one day with a \npiece of meat hi his hand, ' carrying home your rations yourself, \nColonel 1 ' ' Yes,' says he, ' and I do it to set the oflScers a good \nexample.' \" \n\nThis feeling, which the Southerners were at no pains to con- \nceal, was not lost on the objects of it, who, nevertheless, for the \nmost part quietly endured the opprobrium, trusting to their \ndeeds to set them right in good time. Sullivan, who was a little \nquick-tempered, was rather restive under such treatment. An \nofficer of Smallwood's Maryland regiment, which \" was distin- \nguished by the most fashionably cut coat, the most macaroni \ncocked-hat, and hottest blood in the Union,\" had been guilty \nof some disrespect or disobedience to the General. He was \narrested and tried, but, as the narrator ingeniously records, a \nmajority of the officers being Southern men, the offender was \nacquitted with honor. Putnam and Greene were not exempt \nfrom the derision of these blue-blooded heroes. \n\nThis was about the time of the disastrous campaign of Long \n\n\nTHE CONTINENTAL TEENCHES. 109 \n\nIsland. The battle of Trenton displayed the qualities of the \nmen of New England in such a light that a more creditable \nfeeling began to be discovered by the men of the South. The \ndespised Yankees showed themselves true descendants of the \nmen of Marston ]\\Ioor, Dunbar, and Worcester ; they became \nto Washington what Cromwell's Ironsides were to the Protec- \ntor. The Southern cock crowed less loudly, and Northern \ncourage, proved again and again, asserted, as it ever will assert, \nto its gainsayers : — \n\n\" If you dare figlit to-day, come to the field ; \nIf not, when yon liave stomachs. \" \n\nWe may well pardon one of our generals a little exultation \nwhen he writes home, after the battles of Trenton and Prinde- \nton : — \n\n\" I have been much pleased to see a day approaching to try the \ndifference between Yankee cowardice and Southern valor. The day, \nor rather the days, have arrived, and all the general officers allowed, \nand do allow, that Yankee cowardice assumes the shape of ti'ue \nvalor in the field, and that Southern valor appears to be a composi- \ntion of boasting and conceit. General Washington made no scruple \nto say publicly that the remains of the Eastern regiments were the \nstrength of his army, though their numbers were, comparatively \nspeaking, but small. He calls them in front when the enemy are \nthere. He sends them to the rear when the enemy threaten that \nway. All the general officers allow them to be the best of troops. \nThe Southern officers and soldiers allow it in time of danger, but not \nat aU other times. Believe me, sir, the Yankees took Trenton before \nthe other troops knew anything of the matter. More than that, there \nwas an engagement, and, what will still surprise you more, the line \nthat attacked the town consisted of but eight hundred Yankees, and \nthere were sixteen hundred Hessians to oppose them. At Prince- \nton, where the 17th regiment had thrown thirty-five hundred \nSouthern militia into the utmost confusion, a regiment of Yankees \nrestored the day. This General Mifflin confessed to me, though the \nPhiladelphia papers teU us a different story. It seems to have been \nquite forgot that, while the 17th regiment was engaging these troops, \nsix hundred Yankees had the town to take against the 40th and 55th \nregiments, which they did without loss, owing to the manner of \nattack.\" \n\n\n110 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTEE V. \n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. \n\n\" There watching high the least alarms, \nThy rough, rude fortress gleams afar, \nLike some bold vet'ran gray in arms. \nAnd marked with many a seamy scar.\" \n\nBY far tlie most remarkable object to be seen in the vicinity \nof Boston is the Old Powder House, which stands on a \nlittle eminence hard by the road leading from Winter Hill \nto Arlington, — formerly the old stage-road to Keene, New \nHampshire. In the day of its erection it stood at the meeting \nof the roads from Cambridge, Mystic, and Menotomy, — a situ- \nation excellently adapted to the Avants of the settlements. \n\nIt is the only really antique ruin we can boast of in Massa- \nchusetts ; and for solitary picturesqueness, in aU New England, \nonly its fellow, the Old Mill at Newport, can rival it. Long \nbefore you reach the spot its venerable aspect rivets the atten- \ntion. Its novel structure, its solid masonry, no less than the \nextraordinary contrast with everything around, stamp it as \nthe handiwork of a generation long since forgotten. We \nare not long in deciding it to be a wandmiU of the early \nsettlers. \n\nThe Old Mill, as we shall call it, belongs to the early part of \nthe reign of good Queen Anne, and was doubtless erected by \nJohn Mallet, who came into possession of the site in 1 70-3 - 04. \nIt remained for a considerable period in the Mallet family, de- \nscending at last, in 1747, to Michael, son of Andrew Mallet, by \nwhom it was conveyed in the same year to the Province of the \nMassachusetts Bay in New England, for the use of \" y^ Gover- \nnor, Council and Assembly of said province,\" with the right of \nway to and from the high-road. It had, however, ceased to be \n\n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. Ill \n\nused as a windmill long before this transfer. So that before \nShirley's armada had set sail for Louisburg, its lusty arms had \nceased to beat the air. vStrange that an edifice erected to sustain \nlife should become the receptacle of such a death-dealing sub- \nstance as powder ! \n\nThe walls of the mill are about two feet in thickness, with an \ninner structi;re of brick, the outside of which is encased in a \nshell of blue stone, quarried, probably, on the hillside. Within, \nit has, or had, three lofts supported by oaken beams of great \nthickness, and having, each, about six feet of clear space between. \nA -respectable number of visitors have carved their names on \nthese timbers. There were entrances on the northwest and \nsouthwest sides, but only the latter belonged to the original \nedifice, the small brick structure on the northwest having been \nconstructed at a recent date. From this southwest door expands \na most charming view. The structure is capped with a conical \nroof, and stands about thirty feet high, with a diameter of \nfifteen at the base. To find what was an isolated landmark, \nnot so many years ago, now overlooking a populous neighbor- \nhood, is strange indeed. Better yet, it is no longer a neglected \nruin. \n\nMallet's Mill ground for many an old farmstead of Middle- \nsex or Essex. The old farm-house in which the miller dwelt \nstood by the roadside, where a newer habitation now is. Ten, \nthirty, sixty miles, and back, the farmers sent their sons to \nmill. The roads were few and bad. Oxen performed the \nlabor of the fields. Those that came from a distance mounted \ntheir horses astride a sack of corn in lieu of saddle, and so \nperformed their journey. \n\nAs a historical monument, the mill is commemorative of one \nof the earliest hostile acts of General Gage, one which led to \nthe most important events. At the instance of William Brattle, \nat that time major-general of the Massachusetts militia. General \nGage sent an expedition to seize the powder in this magazine \nbelonging to the province. About four o'clock on the morning \nof September 1, 1774, two hundred and sixty soldiers embarked \nfrom Long Wharf, in Boston, in thirteen boats, and proceeded \n\n\n112 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nup the Mystic Eiver, landing at Ten HiUs Farm, less than a \nmile from the Po\\Yder House. The magazine, which then con- \ntained two hundred and fifty half-barrels of powder, was speed- \nily emptied, and the explosive mixture transported to the \nCastle, while a detachment of the expedition proceeded to \nCambridge and brought off two field-pieces there. At the \ntime of this occurrence William Gamage was keeper of the \nmagazine. \n\nThe news of the seizure circulated with amazmg rapidity, \nand on the followdng morning several thousand of the inhabi- \ntants of the neighboring towns had assembled on Cambridge \nCommon. This appears to have been the very first occasion on \nwhich the provincials assembled m arms with the intention of \nopposing the forces of their Icing. Those men who repaired to \nthe Common at Cambridge were the men of Middlesex ; when, \ntherefore, we place Massachusetts in the front of the Revolu- \ntion, we must p.ut Middlesex in the van. It was at this time \nthat the lieutenant-governor (Oliver) and several of the coun- \ncillors were compelled to resign. The Eevolution had fairly \nbegun, and accident alone prevented the first blood being shed \non Cambridge, instead of Lexington, Common. \n\nWe will not leave the old mill until we consider for a \nmoment what a centre of anxious solicitude it had become in \n1775, when the word \" powder\" set the whole camp in a shiver. \nPutnam prayed for it ; Greene, Sullivan, and the rest begged \nit of their provincial committees. A terrible mistake had \noccurred through the inadvertence of the Massachusetts Com- \nmittee, which had returned four hundred and eighty-five quar- \nter-casks as on hand, when there were actually but thirty-eight \nbarrels in the magazine. When Washington was apprised of \nthis startling error, he sat for half an hour without uttering \na word. The generals present — the discovery was made at a \ngeneral council — felt with him as if the army and the cause \nhad received its death-blow. \" The word 'Powder' in a letter,\" \nsays Reed, \" sets us all a-tiptoe.\" The heavy artillery was use- \nless ; they were obliged to bear witli the cannonade of the \nrascals on Bunker Hill in silence ; and, what was worse than \n\n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. 113 \n\nall the rest, there were only nine rounds for the small-arms in \nthe hands of the men. In the whole contest there was not a \nmore dangerous hour for America. \n\nWe have had occasion elsewhere to mention this scarcity of \nammunition. At no time was the army in possession of abun- \ndance. Before Boston the cartridges were taken from the men \nthat left camp, and fourpence was charged for every one ex- \npended without proper account. The inhabitants were called \nupon to give up their window-weights to be moulded into bul- \nlets, and even the churchyards were laid under contribution for \nthe leaden coats-of-arms of the deceased. The metal pipes of \nthe English Church of Cambridge were appropriated for a like \npurpose. On the lines the men plucked the fuses from the \nenemy's shells, or chased the spent shot with boyish eagerness. \nIn this way missiles were sometimes actually returned to the \n■enemy before they had cooled. \n\nThe old name of the eminence on which the Powder House \nstands was Quarry Hill, from the quarries opened at its base \nmore than a century and a half ago. The region round about \nwas, from the earliest times, known as the Stinted Pasture, and \nthe little rivulet near at hand was called Two Penny Brook. \nWhen the province bought the Old Mill there was but a quar- \nter of an acre of land belonging to it. After the Old War the \nPowder House continued to be used by the State until the erec- \ntion, more than forty years ago, of the magazine at Cambridge- \nport. It was then sold, and passed into the possession of \nNathan Tufts, from whom the place is usually loiown as the \n\" Tufts Farm,\" but it has never lost its designation as the \" Old \nPowder-House Farm,\" up to the present time. \n\nExcept that the sides of the edifice are somewhat bulged out, \nwhich gives it a portly, aldermanic appearance, and that it \nshows a few fissures traversing its outward crust, the Powder \nHouse is good for another century if for a day. Fortunately \nthe iconoclasts have not yet begun to sap its foundations. \nNothing is wanting but its long arms, for the Old Mill to have \nstepped bodily out of a canvas of Rembrandt or a cartoon of \nAlbert Diirer. It carries us in imagination beyond seas to the \n\nH \n\n\n114 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbanlcs of tlie Scheldt, — to the land of burgomasters, dikes, \nand guilders. \n\nThere is not the smallest doubt that Washington has often \ndismounted at the Old Mill, or that Knox came here seeking \ndaily food for his Crown Point murtherers. Sullivan, in whose \ncommand it was, watched over it with anxious care. \n\nIt is pleasant to record the rescue of such a conspicuous and \ntelling landmark as this from the rage of threatened demolition. \nThis fury of progress, which has assailed Somervillo in its high \nplaces, was here arrested by the joint action of the heirs of \nNathan Tufts and of the city fathers, with the result that the \npermanence of the old building is now fully assured. These \nheirs, in 1890, proposed to execute a deed of gift to the city, \nunder certain expressed conditions, of the Old Powder House \nand the surrounding grounds. This being accepted, the city \nacquired a much larger tract, contiguous to the first, by pur- \nchase, and the whole, under skilful and sympathetic treat- \nment, is now converted into a beautiful park, — Nathan Tufts \nPark — alike a credit to those who gave and those whose \ntaste has turned an unsightly stone quarry into a garden spot. \nSome necessary repairs were made in the old structure itself at \nthis time without impairment of its general appearance to the \nmost critical eye. \n\nFollowing close upon these acts, permission was granted to \nthe Massachusetts Society, Sons of the Revolution, to place a \nbronze tablet upon the old building, reciting the leading events \nconnected with it, as we know them. A smaller tablet, \naffixed to the grille closing the entrance, gives the names of \nthe city officials under whose direction the good work pro- \nceeded. Thus renovated, this ancient landmark tells its \nstory with a new dignity. \n\nSir Walter Scott has said, \" Nothing is easier than to make \na legend.\" We need not invent, but only repeat one of which \nthe Old Mill is the subject. \n\n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. 115 \n\n\nA Legend of the Powder House. \n\nIn the day of Mallet, the miller, it was no unusual occurrence \nfor a customer to dismount before the farm-house door after \ndark ; so that when, one sombre November evening, the good- \nman sat at his evening meal, he was not surprised to hear a \nhorse neigh, and a faint halloo from the rider. \n\nGoing to the door, the iniUer saw, by the liglit of the lan- \ntern he held aloft, a youth mounted on a strong beast, whose \nsteaming flanks gave evidence that he had been pushed at the \ntop of his speed, and whose neck was abeady stretched wist- \nfully in the direction of the miller's crib. \n\nMallet, — when was your miller aught else in song or story \nbut a downright jolly fellow, — in cheery tones, bade the lad \ndismount and enter, at the same time calling his son Andre to \nlead the stranger's horse to the stable, and have a care for the \nbrace of well-filled bags that were slung across the crupper. \n\nOnce witliin the house the new-comer seemed to shrink from \nthe scrutiny of the mdler's wife and daughters, and, notwith- \nstanding his evident fatigue, coidd scarcely be prevailed upon \nto touch the relics of the evening repast, which the goodAvife \nplaced before him. He swallowed a few mouthfuls, and then \nAvithdrew into the darkest corner of the cavernous fireplace, \nwhere a rousing fire blazed on the hearth, crackhng, and dif- \nfusing a generous warmth tlirough the apartment. \n\nThe stranger was a mere stripling, -with a face the natural \npallor of which was heightened by a pair of large, restless black \neyes, that seemed never to rest on any object at which they \nwere directed, but glanced furtively from the glistening fire- \nirons to the spinning-wheel at which Goodwife Mallet was em- \nployed, and from the rude pictures on the wall back to the \nqueen's arm which hung by its hooks above the chimneyrpiece. \n\" Certes,\" muttered ]\\Iallet, under his breath, \" this fellow is no \nbrigand, I '11 be sworn.\" \n\n\n116 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe habit of those days among the poorer classes was early \nto bed, and soon the miller set the example by taking a greasy \ndip-candle and saying : \" Come, wife, Marie, Ivan, to bed ; and \nyou, Andre, see that all is secured. Come, lad,\" — beckoning \nto his guest, — \" follow me.\" \n\nLeading the way up the rickety stairs, the miller reached \nthe garret, and, pointing to the only bed it contained, bade the \nwayfarer share a good night's rest with his son Andre. The \nstartled expression of the stranger's face, and the painful flush \nthat lingered there, were not observed by the bluff old miller. \nThey were plain folk, and used to entertain guests as they \nmight. \n\nThe youth entreated that if. he might not have a couch to \nhimself, he might at least sit by the kitchen fu-e till morning ; \nbut liis request was sternly refused by the miller, with marks \nof evident displeasure. \" Harkye, lad,\" he blurted out, '• your \nspeech is fair, and you do not look as if you would cut our \nthroats in the dark, but if ye can't sleep with the miller's son \nfor a bedfellow, your highness must e'en couch with the rats at \nthe mill, for other place there is none.\" To his surprise the \nboy caught eagerly at the proposal, and, after no Httle per- \nsuasion, he yielded, and conducted his fastidious visitor out \ninto the open air, muttering his disapproval in no stinted \nphrase as he took the well-trod path that led to the mill. \n\nThe old mill loomed large in the obscurity, its scarce dis- \ntinguishable outline seeming a piece fitted into the surrounding \ndarkness. The sails, idly flapping in the night wind, gave to \nthe whole structure the appearance of some antique, winged \nmonster, just stooping for a flight. The boy shivered, and drew \nhis roquelaure closer around him. \n\nEntering the mill, the youth ascended by a ladder to the loft ; \nthe miller fastened the oaken door and -withdrew. Left alone, \nthe strange lad turned to the narrow loophole, through which a \nsingle star was visible in the heavens, and, taking some object \nfrom his breast, pressed it to his lips. He then threw himself, \nsobbing, on a heap of empty bags. Silence fell upon the \nold mill. \n\n\nTHE OLD WAYSIDE MILL. 117 \n\nThe slumbers of the lonely occupant were erelong rudely \ndisturbed by the sound of voices, among which he distinguished \nthat of the miller, who appeared to be engaged in unfastening \nhis locks in a manner far too leisurely to satisfy the haste of his \ncompanions. Another voice, one which seemed to terrify the \nboy by its harsh yet familiar accents, bade the miller despatch \nfor a bungling fool. The boy, moved with a sudden impulse, \ndrew the ladder by which he had gained the loft up to his \nretreat, and, placing it against the scuttle, ascended yet higher. \n\nThe flash of lights below showed that the men were within, \nas a volley of oaths betrayed the disappointment of the princi- \npal speaker at finding access cut off to the object of his pursuit. \n\" Ho there, Claudine ! \" exclaimed this person, \" descend, and \nyou shall be forgiven this escapade ; come down, I say. Curse \nthe girl ! — Miller ! another ladder, and I '11 bring her down, or \nmy name 's not Dick Wynne.\" \n\nAnother ladder was brought, which the speaker, uttering \nwild threats, mounted, but, not finding his victim as he ex- \npected at the first stage, he was compelled to climb to that \nabove. The fugitive, crouched panting in a corner, betrayed \nher presence only by her quickened breathing, while the man, \nwhose eyes were yet unaccustomed to the darkness, coidd only \ngrope cautiously around the cramped area. \n\nFinding it impossible longer to elude her pursuer, the girl, \nwith a piercing cry for help, attempted to reach the ladder, \nwhen the man, making a sudden efibrt to grasp her, missed his \nfooting, and fell headlong through the opening. In his descent, \nhis hand coming in contact with something, he grasped it \ninstmctively, and felt his flight arrested at the moment a yell \nof horror smote upon his ears. \" Damnation ! \" screamed the \nmiller, \" let go the cord, or you 're a dead man.\" \n\nIt was too late. In an instant the old mill, shaking ofi' its \nlethargy, was all astir vdih life. The ponderous arms were \nalready in quick revolution, and the man was caught and \ncrushed within the mechanism he had set in motion. The mill \nwas stopped ; the helpless sufferer extricated and conveyed to \nthe farm-house. He uttered but one word, \" Claudine,\" and \nbecame insensible. \n\n\nlis HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe poor Acadian peasant girl was one of those who had \nbeen separated from their homes by the rigorous poHc}'' of their \nconquerors. These victims were parcelled out among the dif- \nferent towns like so many brutes, and Claudine had fallen into \nthe power of a wretch. This man, who wished to degrade the \npretty French girl to the position of his mistress, had pushed \nhis importunities so far that at last the girl had obtained a dis- \nguise, and, watching her opportunity, saddled her master's horse \nand fled. The man, with a warrant and an officer, was, as we \nhave seen, close upon her track. \n\nAt break of day the officer returned from the town with a \nchirurgeon and a clergyman. The examination of the man of \nmedicine left no room for hope, and he gave place to the man \nof God. Consciousness returns for a moment to the bruised \nand bleeding Wynne. Powerless to move, his eyes turn to the \nbedside, where \"stands, in her proper attire, the object of his \nfatal passion, bitterly weeping, and holding a crucifix in her \nhands. The morning sun gilds the old mill with touches a \nTurner could not reproduce. His rays fall aslant the farm- \nhouse, and penetrate through the little diamond panes within \nthe chamber, where a stricken group stand hushed and awe- \nstruck in the presence of death. \n\n\nIS \n\n\nX! \n\n■Ql \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 119 \n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. \n\n\" Come pass about the bowl to me; \nA health to our distressed king.\" \n\nAS you approach Medford by the Old Boston Road, you \nsee at your left hand, standing on a rise of ground not \nhalf a mile out of the ^dllage, a mausion so strongly marked \nAvith the evidences of a decayed magnificence that your atten- \ntion is at once arrested, and you will not proceed without a \nnearer view of an object which has so justly excited your \ninterest, or awakened, perhaps, a mere transient curiosity. \n\nWhatever the motive which leads you to thread the broad \navenue that leads up to the entrance door, our word for it you \nwill not depart with regret that your footsteps have strayed to \nits portal. Built by a West-Indian nabob, inhabited by one \nwhose character and history have been for a hundred years a \npuzzle to historians, — a man \" full of strange oaths,\" the very \nprince of egotists, and yet not without claim to our kindly con- \nsideration, — the old house fairly challenges our inquiry. \n\nExternally the building presents three stories, the upper tier \nof windows being, as is usual in houses of even a much later \ndate, smaller than those underneath. Every pane has rattled \nat the boom of the British morning-gun on Bunker Hill ; every \ntimber shook with the fierce cannonade which warned the in- \nvaders to their ships. \n\nThe house is of brick, but is on three sides entirely sheathed \nin wood, while the south end stands exposed. The reason \nwhich prompted the builder to make the west front by far the \nmost ornamental does not readily appear ; but certain it is, \nthat the mausion, in defiance of our homely maxim, \" Put \nyour best foot foremost,\" seems to have turned its back to the \n\n\n120 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nhighway, as if it would ignore what was passing in the outer \nworld. \n\nSufficient unto himself, no doubt, wdth his gardens, his \nslaves, and his rich wines, was the old Antigua merchant, Isaac \nRoyall, who came, in 1737, from his tropical home to establish \nhis seat here in ancient Charlestown. He is said to have \nbrought with him twenty-seven slaves. In December, 1737, \nhe laid before the General Court his petition, as foUows, in \nregard to these \" chattels \" : — \n\n\" Petition of Isaac Royall, late of Antigua, now of Charlestown, \nin the county of Middlesex, that he removed from Antigua with liis \nfamily, and brought with him, among other things and chattels, a \nparcel of negroes, designed for his own use and not any of them for \nmerchandise. He prays that he may not be taxed with impost.\" \n\nThe brick quarters which the slaves occupied are situated on \nthe south side of the mansion and front upon the court- yard, \none side of which they enclose. These have remained un- \nchanged, and are, we believe, the last visible relics of slavery \nin New England. The deep fireplace where the blacks pre- \npared their food is stiU there, and the roll of slaves has cer- \ntainly been called in sight of Bunker Hill, though never on \nits summit. \n\nAt either end of the building the brick wall, furnished with \na pair of stout chimneys, rises above the pitched roof. The \ncornice and corners are relieved by ornamental wood-work, \nwliile the west face is panelled, and further decorated \"vidth \nfluted pilasters. On tliis side, too, the original windows are \nseen. \n\nThe Royall House stood in the midst of grounds laid out in \nelegant taste, and embellished with fruit-trees and shrubbery. \nThese grounds were separated from the highway by a low brick \nwaU, now demolished. The gateway opening upon the grand \navenue was flanked by wooden posts. Farther to the right \nwas the carriage-drive, on either side of which stood massive \nstone gate-posts, as antique in appearance as anything about the \nold mansion. Seventy paces back from the road, along the \nbroad gravelled Avalk, bordered with box, brings you to \nthe door. \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 121 \n\nA visitor arriving in a carriage either alighted at the front \nentrance or passed by the broad drive, under the shade of mag- \nnificent old elms, around into the court-yard previously men- \ntioned, and paved with round beach pebbles, through the \ninterstices of which the grass grows thicldy. Emerging from \nthe west entrance-door, the old proprietor mounted the steps \nof the family coach, and rolled away in state to Boston Town- \nHouse, where, as a member of the Great and General Court, he \nlong served his fellow-citizens of Charlestown. The driveway \nhas now become a street, to the ruin of its former glory, the \nstately trees. \n\nBehind the house, as we view it, was an enclosed garden of \nhalf an acre or more, with walks, fruit, and a summer-house at \nthe farther extremity. No doubt this was the favorite resort \nof the family and their guests. \n\nThis summer-house, a veritable curiosity in its way, stood \nupon an artificial mound, with two terraces, ascended by broad \nflights of red sandstone steps. It was octagonal in form, with \na bell-shaped roof, surmounted by a cupola, on which stood a \nfigure of Mercurj^ At present the statue, with the loss of \nboth wings and arms, cannot be said to resemble the ideal. All \nof this delightfully suggestive and picturesque affair has now \ndisappeared except the mound itself. We discover that utility \nled tc the elevation of the mound, Avithin which was an ice- \nhouse, the existence of which is disclosed by a trap-door \nin the floor of the summer-house. An artist ,drew the plan \nof this little structure, a worthy companion of that formerly \nexisting in Peter Faneuil's grounds in Boston. Doubtless \nGeorge Erving and Sir William Pepperell came hither to \npay their court to th'e royalist's daughters, and greatly we \nmistake if its dilapidated walls might not whisper of many a \nlove-tryst. \n\nAfter having rambled through the grounds and examined \nthe surroundings of the mansion, we returned to the house, \nprepared to inspect the interior. . \n\nWithout lingering in the hall of entrance farther than to \nmark the elaborately carved balusters and the panelled wainscot, \n6 \n\n\n122 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwe passed into the suite of apartments at the right hand, the \nreception-rooms proper of the house. These ^¥ere divided in \ntwo by an arch, in which foldmg-doors were concealed ; and \nfrom floor to ceiling the walls were panelled in wood, the panels \nbeing of single pieces, some of them a yard in breadth. In the \nrear apartment, and opening to the north, were two alcoves, \neach flanked by fluted pilasters, on which rested an arch en- \nriched with mouldings and carved ornaments. Each recess had \na window furnished with seats, so inviting for a tete-a-tete, where \nthe ladies of the household sat with their needlework ; these \nwindows were sealed up in winter. The heavy cornice formed \nan elaborate finish to this truly elegant saloon. \n\nOn the right, as the visitor entered, was a sideboard, which \nold-time hospitality required should be always garnished with \nwines, or a huge bowl of punch. The host first filled himself \na glass, and drank to his guest, who was then expected to pay \nthe same courtesy to the master of the mansion. No little of \nColonel Eoyall's wealth was founded on the traffic in Ajitigua \nrum, and we doubt not his sideboard Avas well furnished. In \nthose days men drank their pint of Antigua, and carried it off\", \ntoo, wdth no dread of any enemy but the gout, nor feared to \npresent themselves before ladies with the aroma of good old \nXeres upon them. But we have fallen upon sadly degenerate, \nweak-headed times, Avhen the young men of to-day cannot make \na brace of New- Year's calls without an unsteady gait and tell- \ntale tongue. \n\nThe second floor was furnished with four chambers, all open- \ning on a spacious and airy haU. Of these the northwest room \nonly demands special description. It had alcoves similar to \nthose already mentioned iii the apartment underneath, but \ninstead of panels the walls were finished above the wainscot \nwith a covering of leather on which were embossed, in gorgeous \ncolors, flowers, birds, pagodas, and the concomitants of a Chinese \nparadise. On this side the original windows, with the small \nglass'and heavy frames, still remain. \n\nThe family of Royall in this country originated with William \nEoyall, or Eyal, of North Yarmouth, ]\\Iaine, who was un- \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 123 \n\ndoubtedly the person mentioned by Hazard as being sent over \nas a cooper or cleaver in 1629. His son, Samuel, followed the \nsame trade of cooper in Boston as early as 1665 -G6, living \nwith old Samuel Cole, the comfit-maker and keeper of the first \ninn mentioned in the annals of Boston. His father, William \nRoyall, had married Hebe Green, daughter of Margaret, former \nwife to Samuel Cole. William, another son of William, \nappears to have settled in Dorchester, where he died, in 1724. \nHis son, Isaac Royall, was a soldier in Philip's War, and built \nthe second meeting-house in Dorchester. \n\nIsaac Royall, the builder of our mansion, did not live long \nenough to enjoy his princely estate, dying in 1739, not long \nafter its completion. His widow, who survived him eight \nyears, died in this house, but was interred from Colonel Oliver's, \nin Dorchester, April 25, 1747. The pair share a common tomb \nin the old burying-place of that ancient town. \n\nIsaac Royall the Second took good care of his patrimony. \nHe was the o^vne^ of considerable property in Boston and Med- \nford. Among other estates in the latter town, he was the \nproprietor of the old Admiral Vernon Tavern, which was stand- \ning in 1743, near the bridge. \n\nA visitor preceding us by a century and a quarter thus speaks \nof the same house we are describing; \n\n\n^o \n\n\n\" On our journey past through Mistick which is a small Tq-hti \nof abt a hundred Houses, Pleasantly Situated, near to which is a Fine \nCountry Seat belonging to Mr. Isaac Royall being one of the Grand- \nest in N. America.\" \n\nWhen the Revolution begun Colonel Royall fell upon evil \ntimes. He was appointed a councillor by mandamus, but de- \nclined serving, as Gage says to Lord Dartmouth, from timidity. \nHis own account of his movements after the beginning of \n\" these troubles \" is such as to confirm the governor's opinion, \nwhile it exhibits him as a loyalist of a A'ery moderate cast. \n\nHe had prepared to take passage for the West Indies, intend- \ning to embark from Salem for Antigua, but, having gone into \nBoston the Sunday previous to the battle of Lexington, and \n\n\n124 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nremained there until that affair occurred, he was, by the course \nof events, shut up in the town. He sailed for Halifax very \nsoon, still intending, as he says, for Antigua, but on the arrival \nof his son-in-law, George Erving, and his daughter, with the \ntroops from Boston, he was by them persuaded to sail for Eng- \nland, whither his other son-in-law. Sir William Pepperell, had \npreceded him. \n\nUpon his arrival in England he waited upon Lord Dartmouth \nand Lord Germaine, but was not received by them. Governor \nPownall, in the course of a long conversation with Colonel \nEoyall, expressed a strong regard for the Province in general, \nas being a very fine country and a good sort of people, and, \nwhile lamenting the difficulties, said that if his advice had pre- \nvailed they would not have happened. Eoyall also exchanged \nvisits with Governors Bernard and Hutchinson, but, neglecting \nan invitation to dine Avith the latter, the acquaintance dropped. \n\nColonel Eoyall, after the loss of some of his nearest relatives \nand of his own health, begged earnestly to be allowed to return \n\" home \" to Medford, and to be relieved from the acts which \nhad been passed affecting the absentees. The estate had, how- \never, been taken out of the hands of his agent. Dr. Tufts, in \n\n1 788, under the Act of Confiscation. \n\nIn Colonel EoyaU's plea to be permitted to return home, in \n\n1789, half ludicrous, half pathetic, he declares he was ever a \ntrue friend of the Province, and expresses the wish to marry \nagain in his own country, where, having already had one good \nwife, he was in hopes to get another, and in some degree repair \nhis loss. Penelope EoyaU, sister of Isaac, was married to \nColonel Henry Vassall of Cambridge. \n\nPeace be with the absconding royalist for an inoffensive, \nwell-meaning, but shockingly timid old tory ! He would fain \nhave lived in amity with all men and wdth his king too, but \nthe crisis engulfed him even as his valor forsook him. His \nfears counselled him to run, and he obeyed. But he is not for- \ngotten. His large-hearted benevolence showed itself in many \nbequests to that country to which he was alien only in name. \nThe Eoyall Professorship of Law at Harvard was founded by \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 125 \n\nhis bounty. He has a town (Royalston) in Massachusetts \nnamed for him, and is remembered with affection in the place \nof his former abode. \n\nAfter inspecting the kitchen, with its monstrous brick oven \nstill in perfect repair, its iron chimney-back, with the Eoyall \narms impressed upon it, we inquired of the lady who had kindly \nattended us if she had ever been disturbed by strange visions \nor frightful dreams. She looked somewhat perplexed at the \nquestion, but replied in the negative. \" They were all good \npeople, you know, who dwelt here in bygone times,\" she said. \n\nWhen the yeomen began pouring into the environs of Boston, \nencircling it with a belt of steel, the New Hampshire levies \npitclaed their tents in Medford. They found the Eoyall man- \nsion in the occupancy of Madam Eoyall and her accomplished \ndaughters, who willingly received Colonel John Stark into the \nhouse as a safeguard against insult or any invasion of the estate \nthe soldiery might attempt., A few rooms were set apart for \nthe use of the bluff old ranger, and he, on his part, treated the \nfamily with considerate respect. Stark's wife afterwards fol- \nlowed him to camp, and when Dorchester Heights were occu- \npied was by hun directed to mount on horseback and watch \nthe passage of his detachment over to West Boston. If his \nlanding was opposed, she was to ride into the country and \nspread the alarm. These were the men and women of 1776. \n\nJohn Stark was formed by nature for a leader. Though the \nreins of discipline chafed his impetuous spirit, few men pos- \nsessed in a greater degree the confidence of his soldiers. The \nvery hairs of his head seem bristling for the fray. A counte- \nnance strongly marked, high cheek-bones, eyes keen and thought- \nful, nose prominent, — in short, the aspect of an eagle of his \nown mountains, Avith a soul as void of fear. He was at times \nsomewhat \" splenetive and rash.\" While stationed here he one \nday sent a file of his men to arrest and. bring to camp a civilian \naccused of some extortion towards his men. Such acts, with- \nout the knowledge of his general, were sure to bring reproof \nupon Stark, which he received with tolerable grace. But he \nwas always ready to render ample satisfaction for a wrong. The \n\n\n126 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nelection for colonel of the New Hampshire regiment was held \nin the public hall of Billings's tavern in Medford, afterwards \ncalled the New Hampshire Hall. It was a hand vote, and \nsome, they say, held up both hands for John Stark. \n\nIn the fall of 1776 a small party of the British came up the \nlake before Ticonderoga to take soundings of the depth of \nwater. From the prospect of attack Gates summoned a council \nof war. There were no officers who had been in actual service \nexcept Gates and Stark. Gates took Stark aside, and the fol- \nlowing dialogue ensued : — \n\nGates. What do you think of it, John 1 \nStark. I think if they come we must fight them. \nGates. Psho, John ! Tell me what your opinion is, seriously. \nStai-Jc. My opinion is, that they will not fire a shot against this \nplace this season, but whoever is here next must look out. \n\nStark and Gates w^ere very intimate ; they addressed each \nother familiarly by their given names. The events justified \nStark's sagacity. \n\nIt is also related that at the memorable council of war where \nthe movement to Trenton was decided upon, Stark, who came \nin late, said to Washington, \" Your men have long been accus- \ntomed to place dependence upon spades, pickaxes, and lioes for \nsafety, but if you ever mean to establish the independence of \nthe United States, you must teach them to put confidence in \ntheir fire-arms.\" Washington answered, \" That is what we \nhave agreed upon ; w^e are to march to-morrow to the attack of \nTrenton ; you are to take command of the right wing of the \nadvanced guard, and General Greene the left.\" Stark observed \nhe could not have been better suited. It is noticeable that \nseveral officers attached to the brigade on Winter Hill served in \nthis a(;tion, namely, Sullivan, Stark, Scammell, and Wilkinson. \n\nOne of Washington's most trusted officers thus wrote to a \nfriend in Boston of the battle of Bennington : — \n\n\" The news of the victory at the northward, under General Stark, \nmust give you singular satisfaction; indeed, it was a most noble \nstroke for the oldest troops, but the achievement by mihtia doubly \nenhances the value of the action. America will ever be free if all \nher sons exert themselves equally.\" \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 127 \n\nThis battle, like that of Trenton, was an act of inspiration. \nWe cannot, at this distance of time, appreciate its electric \neffect upon the public mind, then sunk in despondency by the \nfall of Ticonderoga, and the rapid and unchecked advance of \nBurgoyne. It was generally believed that Boston was the \nBritish general's destination. Great alarm prevailed in conse- \nquence, and many families removed from the towii. The news \nof Bennington, therefore, was received with great joy. At \nsundown about one hundred of the first gentlemen of the town, \nwith all the strangers then in Boston, met at the Bunch of \nGrapes in State Street, where good liquors and a side table \nwere provided. In the street were two brass field-pieces with \na detachment of Colonel Craft's regiment. In the balcony of \nthe Old State House all the musicians of Henry Jackson's regi- \nment Avere assembled, with their fifes and drums. The ball \nwas opened by the discharge of thirteen cannon, and at every \ntoast three guns were fired, followed by a flight of rockets. \nAbout nine o'clock two barrels of grog were brought into the \nstreet for the people that had collected there. The whole aff'air \nwas conducted with the greatest propriety, and by ten o'clock \nevery man was at his home. \n\nThe effect on enlistments was equally happy. In the back \nparts of the State the militia turned out to a man. The best \nfarmers went into the ranks, and Massachusetts soon enrolled \nthe finest body of militia that had taken the field. The sea- \nports were more backward. The towns that had not secured \ntheir quotas for the continental army were giving £100, lawful \nmoney, bounty for men. Some towns gave as much as five \nhundred dollars for each man enlisted. \n\nCaptain Barns, who brought the news of the battle of Ben- \nnington to Boston, related that, \" after the first action. General \nStark ordered a hogshead of rum for the refreshment of the \nmilitia ; but so eager were they to attack the enemy, upon be- \ning reinforced, that they tarried not to taste of it, but rushed \non the enemy with an ardor perhaps unparalleled.\" \n\nStark sent to Boston not long after the battle the trophies, \npresented to the State, now placed in the Senate Chamber. \n\n\n128 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe drum, is one of several captured on the field, while the \nsword, carried by one of Eiedesel's dragoons, required no pygmy \nto wield it ; in fact, the hat and sword of a German dragoon \nwere as heavy as the whole equipment of a British soldier. \n\nThere are other memorials of the battles of Bennington and \nof Saratoga preserved in Boston. The original orders of Bur- \ngoyne to Baum were deposited with the Massachusetts Histori- \ncal Society by General Lincoln, while the capitulation of Sara- \ntoga is in the Public Library. It is not a little remarkable, \ntoo, that the original draft of the surrender of Cornwallis was \nfound among the papers of General Knox, now in the archives \nof the Historic Genealogical Society. All these are memorials \nof great events, and are of inestimable value. What is really \nnoticeable about the battle of Bennington is, that Baum, find- \ning himself surrounded, had strongly intrenched liimseLf. His \nworks were attacked and carried by raAV militia, of whom \nBaum took little note because they were in their shirt-sleeves. \nHe held his adversaries cheaply and paid dearly for his confi- \ndence. Of Stark he doubtless thought as one \n\n\" That never set a squadron in the field, \nNor the division of a battle knows \nMore than a spinster. \" \n\nThe Bennington prisoners arrived at Boston on Friday, Sep- \ntember 5, 1777, and were confined on board guard-ships in \nthe harbor. Some of the officers were permitted to quarter \nin farm-houses along the route, where they soon had the \nmelancholy pleasure of welcoming their brethren of the main \narmy. \n\nOf the Hessians confined on board the guard-ships, ten \nmade their escape on the night of the 26th of October, in a \nmost daring manner. Having, through the connivance of their \nfriends outside, obtained a boat, in which arms were provided, \nthey boarded the sloop Julia off the Hardings, took possession \nof her, and bore away for the southward, expecting, no doubt, \nto fall in with some of the enemy's vessels of war in Long \nIsland Sound. \n\nSome of the guns captured at Bennington by Stark fell \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 129 \n\nagain into British possession at tlie surrender of Detroit. The \ninscriptions were read with much curiosity by the captors, who \nobserved that tliey would now add a line to the liistory. The \nBritish officer of the day directed the evening salutes to be fired \nfrom them. When Stark heard of the loss of his guns he was \nmuch incensed. These pieces again became American at the \ncapture of Fort George. Two of the lightest metal were pre- \nsented by Congress to the State of Vermont. \n\nIn 1819 Stark was still living, the last survivor of the \nAmerican generals of the Eevolution. His recollections were \nthen more distinct in relation to the events of the Old French \nWar than of that for independence. Bunker Hill, Trenton, \nand Bennington should be inscribed upon his tomb. \n\nNot long after his arrival at the camp General Lee took up \nhis quarters in the Eoj^all mansion, whose echoing corridors \nsuggested to his fancy the name of Hobgoblin Hall. But \nWashington, as elsewhere related, caused him to remove to a \npoint nearer his command. After Lee, Sullivan, attracted no \ndoubt by the superior comforts of the old country-seat, unwa- \nrily fell into the same error. He, too, was remanded to his \nbrigade by the chief, who knew the impulsive SulliA^an would \nnot readily forgive himself if anything befell the left \"wdng \nof the army in his absence. In these two cases Washington \nexhibited his adhesion to the maxim, that a general should \nsleep among his troops. \n\nThe Royall mansion came, in 1810, into the possession of \nJacob Tidd, in Avhose family it remained half a century, until \nits identity with the old royalist had become merged in the new \nproprietor. It has been subsequently owned by George L. \nBarr and by George C. Nichols, but is now unoccupied. The \nTidd House is the name by which it is best known, and all \nold citizens have a presentiment that it will not much longer \nretain a foothold among its modern neiglibors. The surveyor \nhas appeared on the scene with compass and level. Not one \nof the granite gate-posts remains in the driveway, while the \nstumps of the once splendid elms, planted by Royall, lie scat- \ntered about. \n\nI \n\n\n130 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nNothing goes to our heart more than to see one of these \ngigantic old trees, which it has cost a centiiry to grow, struck \nclown in an hour ; but when whole ranks of them are swept \naway, how quickly the scene changes from picturesque beauty \nto insignificance ! At the forks of every road leading into their \nvillages the old settlers Avere wont to plant an elm, where \nweary travellers and footsore beasts might, in time, gather under \nits spreading branches, sheltered from the burning rays of the \nnoonday sun. In the market-place, too, they dug their wells, \nbut planted the tree beside. Many of these yet remain ; and if \nin any one thing our New England towns may claim pre-emi- \nnence, it is in the beauty of these trees, — the admiration of every \nbeholder, the gigantic fans that cool and purify the air around \nour habitations. Dickens, no mean observer, said our country- \nhouses, in their spruce tidiness, their white paiut, and green \nblinds, looked like houses built of cards, which a breath might \nblow away, so fragile and unsubstantial did they appear. \nReader, if you could stand upon one of those bluffs that rise \nout of our Western prairies, like headlands out of the ocean, \nand, after looking down upon the town at your feet, weUnigh \ntreeless and blistering in the sun, could then descend into the \nbrown and dusty streets, and note the care bestowed upon the \ngrowth of a few puny poplars or maples, you would come back \nto your New England home, all glorious in its luxuriance and \nwealth of every form of forest beauty, prepared to make the \ndestruction of one of these ancestral elms a penal offence. \n\n\" God the first garden made, and tlie first city Cain ! \" \n\nMedford possesses other elements of attraction to the anti- \nquary besides its old houses. Until Maiden Bridge was built \nthe great tide of travel north and east passed through the town. \nThe visitor now finds it a very staid, quiet sort of place. Travel \nhas so changed both its mode and its channels that we can \nform little idea of a country liighway even fifty years ago. \nTravellers of every condition then pursued their route by the \npublic roads : the wealthy or well-to-do generally in chaises \nor phaetons ; the professional gentleman on horseback, — a cus- \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 131 \n\ntorn so graceful and health-giving that we should not be sorry \nto see its revival in New England. Whole families — men, \nwomen, and even little children — passed and repassed on foot, \ncarrying with them their scanty effects. Then there was the \nmail-coach, — a puffy, groaning vehicle, bulging out at the top \nand sides, and hung on thoroughbraces. On a rough road it \nlurched like a Chinese junk in a heavy sea-way, and the pas- \nsengers not unfrequently provided themselves with brandy, \nlemons, and other palhatives against sea-sickness. Besides these \nwell-marked constituents of the stream, a nondescript element \nof stragglers drifted along the edges of the current until caught \nin some eddy which cast them up at the tavern door. \n\nThe public inn then had a relative importance to the world \nof wayfarers that is not now represented by any brown-stone or \nmarble front hotel. The distances from Boston in every direc- \ntion were reckoned to the taverns. The landlord was a man of \nnote. He was the village newsmonger, oracle, and referee in \naU disputes. When he had a full house his guests were dis- \ntributed about the floors, and the dining-table commanded a \npremium. The charge for meals or for baiting a horse was \na quarter of a dollar. If the world moved then more slowly \nthan it now does, it was not the less content. \n\nThe tavern was also the political centre where caucuses were \nheld and the state of the country discussed. It was ofttimes \nthere town-meetings were convened, and in war times it was \nthe recruiting rendezvous. Proclamations, notices of that mul- \ntifarious character pertaining to the interior economy of the \nvillage, from the reward for the apprehension of a thief to the \nloss of a favorite brooch, were affixed to the bar-room walls. \nThe smell of old Santa Cruz or other strong waters saluted the \nnostrils of all who entered the public room, and yet there was \ncall for neither fumigation nor exorcism. The mail-coach, \nwhich only stopped to change horses^ occupied forty-eight hoiirs \nin ' going over this route from Boston to Portland. Concord \ncoaches succeeded the old English pattern, and still traverse \nhere and there a few byways into which the railway disdains \nto turn aside. \n\n\n132 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND PIIGHWAYS. \n\nThe mail-coach, too, bore its fixed relation to the population \nalong the line. It marked the time of day for the laborers in \nthe fields, who leaned on hoe or scythe until it was lost to \nview. The plough stopped in the furrow, the smith rested his \nsledge on his anvil, while the faces of young and old were glued \nto the window-panes as this moving piece of the far-away \nmetropolis rolled along. Entering the town, the driver cracked \nhis whip, his leaders sprang out into a brisker gait, and the \nlumbering vehicle drew up with a flourish beside the tavern \ndoor. \n\nThe first of the Medford ordinaries, so far as known, goes \nback to about 1690, Nathaniel Pierce being mine host. The \nGeneral Coiu-t licensed him to sell not less than a gallon of \nliquor at a time to one person, and prohibited the sale of \nsmaller quantities by retail. The house was at one time owned \nby Colonel Eoyall, being knoAvn at different times by the name \nof the \"Royal Oak\" and \"Admiral Vernon.\" In 1775 it \nbecame the Eevolutionary headquarters, kept by Eoger BiUings, \nand Mvas long afterward the principal tavern in the town. The \nhouse stood on the corner of Main and Union Streets, and was \ndestroyed by fire in 1850. \n\nThe old Fountain Tavern, so called froui its sign representing \na fountain pouring forth punch, is no more standing on the old \nSalem road, at the corner of Fountain Street. Brooks, in his \nHistory of Medford, says it was first called the \" Two Palaverers.\" \nThe two large trees in front had each a platform in its branches, \nconnected with each other and with the house by wooden \nbridges. In summer these retreats \"w^ere resorted to by the \nguests for tea-parties or punch-drinking. The house was built \nin 1725, and is extremely unique in appearance. \n\nThe name of Medford is known in every seaport under the \nsun for its stanch and well-built ships. Of the thousands that \nfloat the ocean bearing any Hag aloft, none sail more proudly \nthan those of Curtis or Magoun. This industry, which has \ndated from the time when Englishmen first set foot on -the \nshores of the Mystic, has of late years fallen into decay, but \nonce more the familiar sound of the shipwright's beetle is \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 133 \n\nbeginning to be heard on its banks. Cradock sent over skilled \nartisans, who at once laid down the keels that have increased so \nprodigiously. Although we are told his men had a vessel of a \nhundred tons on the stocks in 1632, the earlier craft were chiefly \npinnaces, galleys, and snows, — the latter being rigged some- \nwhat after the fashion of our barks. No branch of mechani- \ncal skill appears to have developed with such rapidity in New \nEngland as shijDbuilding. The timber, which is now brought \nhundreds of miles to the yards, then grew along the shores. \nWe now bring the keel from Virginia, the frame from the Gulf \nStates, and the masts from Canada. New England, which does \nnot furnish a single product entering into the construction of \nthe ship, forges the anchor which holds her to the bottom; \ntwists the hemp into shrouds, rigging, and those spiders'-webs \naloft whose intricacies confound the eye ; spins the cotton which \nhangs from the yards, and weaves the colors that float at the \nmast-head. \n\nIn the public square of Medford is an excellent specimen of \nthe architecture of the last century, now occupied by oflfices, \nbut originally a dwelling. A few rods distant in a westerly \ndirection, where the Savings Bank now is, was the house which \nGovernor Brooks inhabited, and at the corner was the stone \nwhere he was accustomed to mount his horse. A plain granite \nshaft is erected over the remains of this distinguished soldier \nand civilian in the old burial-ground. Behind the Savings \nBank, on a rising ground, is one of the early garrison-houses, \nbuilt of brick, and looking none the worse for its long conflict \nwith time, thanks to the owner. Gen. Samuel C. Lawrence, \nbeside whose elegant mansion it stands conspicuous, a foil to \nthe symmetry and gracefulness of modern art. \n\nAs a soldier Governor Brooks appeared to his greatest ad- \nvantage in the battle of Bemis's Heights, where he was in com- \nmand of the old Eighth, Michael Jackson's regiment. His own \nrelation of the incidents of that day to General Sumner is not, \neven now, devoid of interest. \n\n\" On the 7th of October, the day of the last battle with General \nBurgoyne, Genp-ral Arnold and several officers dined with. General \n\n\n134 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nGates. I was among the company, and well remember that one of \nthe dishes was an ox's heart. While at table we heard a firing from \nthe advanced picket. The armies were about two miles from each \nother. The firing increasing, we all rose from table ; and General \nArnold, addressing General Gates, said, ' Shall I go out and see \nwhat is the matter T General Gates made no reply, but upon being \npressed, said, ' I am afraid to trust you, Arnold.' To which Arnold \nanswered, ' Pray let me go ; I will be careful ; and if our advance \ndoes not need support, I will promise not to commit you.' Gates \nthen told him he might go and see what the firing meant.\" \n\nColonel Brooks repaired to his post, and under the impetuous \nArnold, who seemed fuUy imbued on this day with the 7'age \nmilitaire, stormed Breyman's Fort, and thus mastered the key \nto the enemy's position. Arnold, once in action, forgot his \npromise to Gates, who vainly endeavored to recall him from \nthe field. Had his life been laid down there, his name would \nhave been as much revered as it is now contemned by his \ncountrymen. \n\nThe object of paramount interest wdiich Medford contains is \nthe plantation house of Governor Cradock, or \" Mathias Char- \nterparty,\" as the malcontent Morton styled him. This house is \nthe monarch of all those now existing in North America. As we \ntrace a family back generation after generation until we bring \nall collateral branches to one common source in the first colo- \nnist, so we go from one old house to another until we finally \ncome to a pause before this patriarch by the sea. It is the \nhandiwork of the first planters in the vicinity of Boston, and \nis one of the first, if not the very first, of the brick houses \nerected wdthin the government of John Winthrop. \n\nEvery man, woman, and child in Medford knows the \" Old \nFort,\" as the older inhabitants love to call it, and Avill point \nyou to the site with visible pride that their pleasant town \ncontains so interesting a relic. Turning your back upon the \nvillage, and your face to the east, a brisk walk of ten minutes \nalong the banks of the Mystic, and you are in presence of the \nobject of your search. \n\nA very brief survey establishes the fact that this was one of \n\n\nTHE PLANTATION AT MYSTIC. 135 \n\nthose houses of refuge scattered through the New England \nsettlements, into which the inhabitants might fly for safety \nupon any sudden alarm of danger from the savages. \n\nThe situation was well chosen for security. It has the river \nin front, marshes to the eastward, and a considerable extent of \nlevel meadow behind it. As it was from this latter quarter \nthat an attack was most to be apprehended, greater precautions \nwere taken to secure that side. The house itself is placed \na little above the general level. Standing for a century and a \nhalf in the midst of an extensive and open field, enclosed by \npalisades, and guarded with gates, a foe could not approach im- \nseen by day, nor find a vantage-ground from which to assail the \ninmates. Here, then, the agents of Matthew Cradock, first \nGovernor of the Massachusetts Company in England, built the \nhouse we are describing. \n\nIn the office of the Secretary of the Commonwealth, at Bos- \nton, hangs the charter of \" The Governor and Company of the \nMassachusetts Bay in New England,\" brought over by Win- \nthrop in 1630. The great seal of England, a most ponderous \nand convincing symbol of authority, is appended to it. \n\nIt is well known that the settlement at Salem, two years \nearlier, under the leadership of Endicott, was begun by a com- \nmercial company in England, of which Matthew Cradock was \nGovernor. In order to secure the emigration of such men as \nWinthrop, Dudley, Sir R. Saltonstall, Johnson, and others, \nCradock proposed, in July, 1629, to transfer the government \nfrom the company in England to the inhabitants here. As he \nwas the wealthiest and most influential person in the associa- \ntion, liis proposal was acceded to. \n\nWe cannot enter, here, into the political aspects of this \ncoup detat. It must ever arrest the attention and challenge the \nadmiration of the student of American history. In defiance \nof the crown, which had merely organized them into a mer- \ncantile corporation, like the East India Company, with officers \nresident -in England, tliey proceeded to nullify the clear intent \nof their charter by removing the government to America. The \nproject was first mooted by Cradock, and secrecy enjoined upon \n\n\n136 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe members of the company. That he was the avowed author \nof it must be our apology for introducing the incident. This \ncircumstance renders Matthew Cradock's name conspicuous in \nthe annals of New England. \n\nCradock never came to America, but there is little doubt that \nhe entertained the purpose of doing so. He sent over, how- \never, agents, or \" servants,\" as they were styled, who estab- \nlished the plantation at Mystic Side. He also had houses at \nIpswich and at Marblehead, for fishery and traffic. \n\nFor a shrewd man of business Cradock seems to have been \nsingularly unfortunate in some of his servants. One of these, \nPhiHp Eateliff, being convicted \" ore tenus of most foul and \nslanderous invectives\" against the churches and government, \nwas sentenced to be whipped, lose his ears, and be banished the \nplantation. Winthrop was complained of by Dudley because \nhe stayed the execution of the sentence of banishment, but \nanswered that it was on the score of humanity, as it was winter \nand the man must have perished. EatclifF afterwards, in con- \njunction with Thomas Morton and Sir Christopher Gardiner, \nprocured a petition to the Lords of the Privy CouncO, before \nAvhom Cradock was summoned. \n\nMorton, who was sent away to England for his mad pranks \nand contemj)t of Puritan authority, wrote as follows of this \nexamination : — \n\n\" My Lord Canterbury havmg with my Lord Privy Seal caused all \nMr. Cradock's letters to be viewed, and his apology in particular for \nthe brethren here, protested against him and Mr. Huinfry [another \nof the undertakers] that they were a couple of imposterous knaves, \nso that for all their great friends they departed the council chamber \nin our view with a pair of cold shoulders. \n\n\" As for RatclifF, he was comforted by their lordships with the \ncroppings of Mr. Winthrop's ears, which shows what opinion is held \namong them of King Winthrop with all his iuA'^entions and his \nAmsterdam fantastical ordinances, his preachmgs, marriages, and \nother abusive ceremonies, which do exemplify his detestation of the \nChm'ch of England and the contempt of his majesty's authority and. \nwholesome laws which are and will be established here invita \nMinerva\" \n\n\nTHE PLANTATIUN AT MYSTIC. 137 \n\nIn the letter to Wmthrop wliich follows, printed in the \nMassachusetts Historical Society's Collections, the old merchant \ncomplains bitterly of the conduct of another of his agents : — \n\n\" London 21 Febr. 1636. \n\" Jno. Joliff writes mee the manner of Mr Mayheues accounts is, \nthat what is not sett down is spent ; most extremely I am abused. \nMy seruauts write they drinke nothing but water & I haue in an \naccount lately sent me Red Wyne, Sack & Aqua Vitae in one \nyeere aboue 300 gallons, besides many other intoUerable abuses, 10 I \nfor tobacco etc. My papers are misselayd but if you call for the \ncoppyes of the accounts sent me and examine vppon what ground it \nis made you shall find I doubt all but forged stuffe. \n\n\" Mathewe Cradock.\" \n\nWood, one of the early chroniclers, tells us that Master \nCradock had a park impaled at Mystic, where his cattle were \nkept until it could be stocked with deer ; and that he also was \nengaged in shipbuilding, a vessel of a \" hundred tunne \" having \nbeen built the previous year (1632). It may be, too, that \nCradock's artisans built here for Wintlxrop the little \" Blessing \nof the Bay,\" launched upon the Mystic tide July 4, 1631, — an \nevent usually located at the governor's farm, at Ten Hills. \n\nThis house, a unique specimen of the architecture of the \nearly settlers, must be considered a gem of its kind. It is not \ndisguised by modern alterations in any essential feature, but \nbears its credentials on its face. Two hundred and thirty odd \nNew England Avinters have searched every cranny of the old \nfortress, whistled down the big chimney-stacks, rattled the win- \ndow-panes in impotent rage, and, departing, certified to us the \nstanch and trusty handiwork of Cradock's English craftsmen. \n\nTime has dealt gently with this venerable reHc. Like a \nveteran of many campaigns, it shows a few honorable scars. \nThe roof has swerved a little fr \n\n\n188 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nstance a revolution. Strong domestic ties bound him to his \nallegiance. He was of the Church of England too, and his \nassociates were cast in the same tory moxdd with himself. He \nhad been a merchant in Boston in 1764, and the agent of Sir \nCharles Frankland when that gentleman went abroad. He \nkept his coach and his liveried servants for state occasions, and \nthe indispensable four-wheeled chaise universally affected by \nthe gentry of his day for more ordinary use. If he was not a \nScotsman by descent, we have not read aright the meaning of \nthe thistle, which Inman loved to see around him. \n\nThe house had a plain outside, unostentatious, but speak- \ning eloquently of solid comfort and good cheer Avithin. It \nwas of wood, of three stories, with a pitched roof. From his \nveranda Inman had an unobstructed outlook over the mead- \nows, the salt marshes, and across the bay, to the town of \nBoston. What really claim our admiration about this estate \nwere the trees by whicli it was glorified, and of which a few \nnoble ebns have been spared. Approaching such a house, as it \nlay environed by shrubbery and screened from the noonday \nsun by its giant guardians, with the tame pigeons perched \nupon the parapet and the domestic fowls cackling a noisy re- \nfrain in the barn-yard, you would have said, \" Here is good \nold-fashioned thrift and hospitality ; let us enter,\" and you \nwould not have done ill to let instant execution follow the \nhappy thought. \n\nBesides his tory neighbors — and at the time of which we \nwrite what we now call Old Cambridge was parcelled out \namong a dozen of these — Inman was a good deal visited by \nthe loyal faction of the town. The officers of his Majesty's \narmy and navy liked to ride out to Inman's to dine or sup, and \none of them lost his heart there. \n\nJohn Linzee, captain of H. M. ship Beaver, met with Sukey \nInman (Ralph's eldest daughter) in some royalist coterie, — \nas like as not at the house of her bosom friend, Lucy Flucker, \n— and found his heart pierced through and through by her \nbright glances. He struck his flag, and, being incapable of \nresistance, became Sukey's lawful prize. He came with Dal- \n\n\nPUTNAM'S HEADQUARTERS. . 189 \n\nryinple, Montague, and his brother officers ostensibly to sip \nRalph's mulled port or Vidania, but really, as we may believe, \nto see the daughter of the house. For some unknown cause \nthe father did not favor Linzee's suit. There was an aunt \nwhom Sukey visited in town, and to whose house the gallant \ncaptain had the open sesame, but who manoeuvred, as only \naunts in 1772 (and they have not forgot their cunning) knew \nhow, to keep the lovers apart. \n\nBut John Linzee was no faint-heart, and he married Sukey \nInman. George Inman, her brother, entered the British army. \nLinzee commanded the Falcon at the battle of Bunker Hill, \nwhere he did us all the misclaief he could, and figured else- \nwhere on our coasts. In 1789 he happened again to cast \nanchor in Boston harbor, and opened his batteries this time \nwith a peaceful salute to the famous stars and stripes flying \nfrom the Castle. It is well known that Prescott, the historian, \nmarried a granddaughter of Captain Linzee. \n\nThe interior of Inman's house possessed no striking features. \nIt was roomy, but so low-studded that you could easily reach \nthe ceilings with your hand when standing upright. The deep \nfireplaces, capacious cupboards, and secret closets were all \nthere. Our last visit to the mansion was to find it divided \nasunder, and being rolled away to another part of the town, \nwhere we have no wish to follow. It was not a pleasant sight \nto see this old house thus mutilated, with its halls agape and \nits cosey bedchambers literally turned out of doors, — a veri- \ntable wreck ashore. \n\nInman was arrested in 1776. He had been of the king's \ncouncil and an addresser of Hutchinson. He became a refugee \nin Boston, and his mansion passed into the custody of the Pro- \nvincial Congress, who assigned it to General Putnam. \n\nPutnam, as we remember, commanded the centre of the \nAmerican position, comprising the works and camps in Cam- \nbridge. The commission of major-general was then no sine- \ncure, and we may opine that Old Put had his hands busily \nemployed. Those long summer days of 1775 were full of care \nand toil, but the summer evenings were not less glorious than \n\n\n190 lIISTOmC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nnow, and the General mnst liave often sat on the refugee's \nlawn, watching the camp-fires of the investing army, or tracing \nin the heavens the course of some fiery ambassador from the \nhostile shore. \n\nOne day while Putnam was on Prospect Hill he summoned \nall his captains to headquarters. It was stated to them that a \nhazardous service was contemplated, for which one of their \nnumber was desired to volunteer. A candidate stepped for- \nward, eager to signalize himself. A draft of six men from each \ncompany was then made. At the appoiiited time the chosen \nbaud appeared before the General's quarters, fully armed and \nequipped. Old Put complimented their appearance and com- \nmended their spirit. He then ordered eA^ery man to lay aside \nhis arms for an axe, and directed their march to a neighboring \nswamp to cut fascines. \n\nWhen Putnam was with Amherst in Canada, that general, to \nhis great annoyance, found that the French had a vessel of \ntwelve guns stationed on a lake he meant to pass over with his \narmy. While pondering upon the unexpected dilemma he was' \naccosted by Putnam Avith the remark, \" General, that ship must \nbe taken.\" \" Ay,\" says Amherst, \" I 'd give the Avorld she \nwere taken.\" \" I '11 take her,\" says Old Put. \" Give me some \nwedges, a beetle, and a few men of my own choice.\" Amherst, \nthough unable to see how the ship Avas to be taken by such \nmeans, willingly complied. At night Putnam took a boat, and, \ngaining the ship's stern unperceived, Avith a few quick blows \ndrove his wedges in such a manner as to disable the rudder. \nIn the morning the vessel, being unmanageable, came ashore, \nand was taken. \n\nWith the single exception of Washington there is not a \nname on the roll of the Revolution more honored in the popu- \nlar heart than that of Putnam. He Avas emphatically a man of \naction and of purpose. At Avhat time he received his famous \nsobriquet Ave are unable to say, but he A^'•as Old Put at Cam- \nbridge, and Avill be to posterity. \n\nAVe can imagine the young fledglings of the army calling the \nthen gray-haired veteran by this familiar nickname^ but when \n\n\nPUTNAM'S HEADQUARTERS. 191 \n\nit comes to the digiiitied comiuander-in-cliief, it shows us not \nonly that he had a grim sense of the humorous, but that he was \ncapable of relaxing a little from his habitual dignity of thought \nand expression. \" I suppose,\" says Joseph Eeed, in a letter to \nWashington, — \"I suppose ' Old Put ' was to command the de- \ntachment intended for Boston on the 5th instant, as I do not \nknow of any officer but himself who could have been depended \non for so hazardous a service.\" And the General replies : \" The \nfour thousand men destined for Boston on the 5th, if the minis- \nterialists had attempted our works at Dorchester or the lines at \nEoxbury, were to have been headed by Old Put.\" \n\nHe had nearly attained threescore when the war broke out, \nbut the fires which a life filled with extraordinary adventures \nhad not dimmed still burned brightly in the old man's breast. \nOnly think of a sexagenarian so stirred at the scent of battle as \nto mount liis horse and gallop a hundred and fifty miles to the \nscene of conflict. Whether we remember him in the wolfs \nlair, at the Indian torture, or fighting for his country, we \nrecognize a spirit which knew not fear and never blenched at \ndanger. \n\nIf the General sometimes swore big oaths, — and we are not \ndisposed to dispute it, — they were, in a measure, inocuous ; \nsuch, for example, as Uncle Toby used at the bedside of the \ndying lieutenant. Your camp is a sad leveller, and though the \nContinental officers could not have had a more correct example \nthan their illustrious chief, yet it was much the fashion among \ngentlemen of quality of that day, and especially such as em- \nbraced the military profession, to indulge themselves in a little \nprofanity. Say what we wiU, our Washingtons and our Have- \nlocks are the rara, aves of the camp. We have history for it \nthat \" our anny swore terribly in Flanders.\" We believe the \nRevolution furnishes a similar example ; and Ave fear the Great \nRebellion teUs the same story. \n\nIt was perhaps to remedy tliis tendency, and that the \nspiritual wants of the soldiery might not sufi'er, that a prayer \nwas composed by Rev. Abiel Leonard, chaplain to General Put- \nnam's regiment, and printed by the Messrs. Hall in Harvard \n\n\n11)2 HISTORIC MANSIOl^S AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nCollege in 1775. Putnam was no courtier, but brusque, hearty, \nand honest, \nbeen his own \n\n\nand honest. The words attributed to the Moor might have \n\n\n\" Rude am I in my speech, \nAnd little blessed with the set phrase of peace ; \nFor since tliese arms of mine had seven years' pith, \n1 ill now some nine moons wasted, they have used \nTheir dearest action in the tented field.\" \n\nPutnam's summer costume was a waistcoat without sleeves \nfor his upper garment. Across his brawny shoulders was \nthrown a broad leathern belt, from which dejDended a hanger, \nand thus he appeared as he bestrode his horse among the \ncamps at Cambridge. Those sneering Marylanders scouted this \ncarelessness in the bluff old captain's attire, and said he was \nmuch better to head a band of sicklemen or ditchers than \nmusketeers. \n\nThe day foUoAving the battle of Bunlier Hill, a young lady \nwho had been assisting Dr. Eustis in the care of our wounded \nwished to send a letter to her parents in Boston. Her heart \nwas full of anguish at the death of Warren, and her pen un- \nskilled in cold set phrase. The officer at the lines to whom \nshe handed her missive, in order that it might go in with the \nfirst flag, returned it, saying, \" It is too d — d saucy.\" The lady \nwent to General Ward, who advised her to soften the expres- \nsions a little. General Putnam, who was sitting by, read the \nletter attentively, and exclaimed, \" It shall go in if I send it at \nthe mouth of a (;annon ! \" He demanded a pass for it, and the \nfair writer received an answer from her friends within forty- \neight hours. \n\nPutnam's old sign of General Wolfe, which he displayed \nwlien a tavern-keeper at Brooklyn, Connecticut, is still pre- \nserved at Hartford, Connecticut, \n\nBefore we depart from Cambridgeport the reader will permit \nus a pilgrimage to the homes of Margaret Fuller and Washing- \nton AUston. Margaret was born in a house now standing in \nCherry Street, on the corner of Eaton Street, with three splen- \ndid elms in front, planted by her father on her natal day. The \n\n\nPUTNAM'S HEADQUARTERS. 193 \n\nlarge square building, placed on a brick basement, is removed \nabout twenty feet back from the street. It is of wood, of \nthree stories, has a veranda at the front reached by a flight of \nsteps, and a large L, but the splendid elms have been cut \ndown. Miss Fuller went to Edward Dickinson's school, situ- \nated in Main Street, nearly opposite Inman, where Eev. S. K. \nLothrop and 0. W. Holmes were her classmates. Her father, \nTimothy Fuller, and herself are still remembered by the elder \npeople wending their way on a Sabbath morn to the old brick \nchurch of Mr. Gannett. \n\nAllston lived in a house at the corner of Magazine and \nAuburn Streets. His studio was nearly opposite his dwelling, \nin the rear of the Baptist church, in a building erected for \nhim. It was confidently asserted by Americans in England, \nthat had Allston remained there he might have reached a high \nposition in the Eoyal Academy ; but he was devotedly attached \nto his country and to a choice circle of highly prized friends at \nhome. \n\nAllston realized whatever prices he chose to ask for his pic- \ntures. Stuart only demanded $ 150 for a kit-kat portrait and \n$ 100 for a bust, but Allston's prices were much higher. Being \nasked by a lady if he did not require rest after finishing a work, \nhe repHed : \" JSTo, I only require a change. After I finish a \nportrait I paint a landscape, and then a portrait again.\" He \ndelighted in his art. \n\nHe was received in Boston on his return from England with \nevery mark of affection and respect, and his society was courted \nin the most intelligent and cultivated circles. Even the young \nladies, the belles of the period, appreciated the polish and \ncharm of his manners and address, and were well pleased when \nhe made choice of one of them as a partner in a cotillon, then \nthe fashionable dance at evening parties. \n\nBesides his immediate and gifted family connections, Allston \nwas much attached to Isaac P Davis and Loammi Baldwin, \nthe eminent engineer. The painting of \" Elijah in the Wilder- \nness \" remained at the house of the former in Boston until it \nwas purchased by Labouchiere, who saw it there. It has been \n9 V. \n\n\n194 HISTORIC MANSIONS AlsD HIGHWAYS, \n\nrepurchased by Mrs. S. Hooper, and placed in the Athenaeum \nGallery. No distinguished stranger went away from Boston \nwithout seeing Allston ; among others he was visited by Mrs. \nJameson, who was taken by the artist to his studio, where he \nexliibited to her several of his uniinished works and sketches. \nIt was a most interesting interview. \n\nAllston's \" Jeremiah,\" an immense canvas, with figures larger \nthan life, was ordered by Miss Gibbs. \" Saul and the Witch \nof Endor\" and \"A Bookseller and a Poet\" were painted for \nHon. T. H. Perkins. \" Miriam on the Shore of the Eed Sea,\" \na magnificent work, with figures nearly life-size, was executed \nfor Hon. David Sears. The \" Angel ajjpearing to Peter in \nPrison \" was painted for Dr. Hooper. A landscape and exqui- \nsite ideal portrait, finished for Hon. Jonathan Phillips, were \ndestroyed in the great fire of 1872. \" Eosalie,\" an ideal por- \ntrait, was painted for Hon. N. Appleton. \" The Valentine,\" \nanother ideal subject, became the property of Professor Ticknor. \n\" Amy Eobsart \" was done for John A. Lowell, Esq. Besides \nthese the painter executed works for Hon. Jonathan Mason, N. \nAmory, F. C. Gray, Richard Sullivan, Loammi Baldwin, — for \nwhom the exquisite \" Florimel \" of Spenser was painted, — \nTheodore Lyman, Samuel A. Eliot, Warren Dutton, and others. \nThis catalogue will serve to show who were Allston's patrons. \nFor each subject the price varied from seven to fifteen hundred \ndollars. About 1830 a number of Boston gentlemen advanced \nthe artist $ 10,000 for his unfinished \" Belshazzar.\" \n\n\nA. DAY AT HARVARD. 195 \n\n\nCHAPTEE IX. \n\nA DAY AT HAKVARD. \n\n\" Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say- \nHave you not seen us walking every day ? \nWas there a tree about whicli did not know \nTlie love betwixt us two ? \" \n\nCAMBRIDGE seems to realize the iiijunction of a sagacious \nstatesman of .antiquity : \"If you would have your city \nloved by its citizens, you must make it lovely.\" \n\nThe location of this settlement was, according to Governor \nDudley, due to apprehensions of the French, which caused the \ncolonists to seek an inland situation. They decided to call it \nNewtown, but in 1638 the name was changed in honor of the \nold English university town. Cambridge was made a port \nof entry in 1805, hence Cambridgeport. It became a city \nin 1846. \n\nThe broad, level plain where Winthrop, Dudley, Bradstreet, \nand the rest bivouacked in the midst of the stately forest in \n1631, and looked upon it as \n\n\" That wild where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot \" ; \n\nwhere they posted their trusty servants, with lighted match, at \nthe verge of the encampment, and the moon's rays glittered on \nsteel cap and corselet ; where they nightly folded their herds \nwithin the chain of sentinels, until they had hedged themselves \nround about with palisades ; where they repeated their simple \nprayers and sung their evening hymn ; where learning erected \nher first temple in the wilderness ; and where a host of armed \nmen sprung forth, Minerva-like, ready for action, — the abode \nof the Muses, the domain of Letters, — this is our present walk \namong the habitations of the living and the dead. \n\n\n196 HI$TOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nOld Willian:^,WoQU, author of the first printed account of \nMassachusetts, ^ays ^ — \n\n\" Newtown was fifst intended for a citj-, but upon more serious \nconsideration, it was thought not so fit, bemg too far from the sea ; \nbeing the greatest inconvenience it hath. Tliis is one of the neatest \nand best compacted towns in New England, having many fah struc- \ntures, with many handsome contrived streets. The inhabitants most \nof them are very rich.\" \n\nOld Cambridge a hundred years after its settlement was, as \nwe have mentioned, the peculiar abode of a dozen wealthy and \naristocratic families. Their possessions were as extensive as \ntheir purses were long and their loyalty approved. They were \nof the English Church, were intermarried, and had every tie — \nsocial position, blood, politics, religion, and we know not what \nelse — to bind them together in a distinct community. The old \nPuritan stock had mostly dispersed. Many had passed into \nConnecticut, others into Boston ; and still others, finding their \nancient limits much too narrow, had, in the language of that \nday, \" sat down '' in what are now Arlington and Lexington, \nand were long known distinctively as the \" farmers.\" These \nlatter, with the fragment still adhering to the skirts of the an- \ncient village, had their meeting-house and the College, which \nthey still kept free from heresy, — not, however, without con- \ntinual watchfulness, nor without attempts on the part of the \nEpiscopalians to obtain a foothold. \n\nIt was believed before the Revolution that the Ministry \nseriously contemplated the firmer establishment of the Church \nof England by creating bishoprics in the colonies, — a measure \nwhich was warmly opposed by the Congregational clergy in and \nout of the pulpit. Tithes and ceremonials were the bugbears \nused to stimulate the opposition and arouse the prejudices of \nthe populace. Controversy ran high, and caricatures appeared, \nin one of which the expected bishop is seen taking refuge on \nboard a departing vessel, while a mob on the wharf is pushing \nthe bark from shore and pelting the unfortunate ecclesiastic \nwith treatises of national law. \n\nTlie large wooden mansion standing well back from Harvard \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 197 \n\nStreet, directly opposite Gore Hall, was built by the Eev. East \nApthorp, D. D., son of Charles Apthorp, an eminent Boston \nmerchant of Welsh descent. It was probably erected in 1761, \nthe year in which Dr. Apthorp was settled in Cambridge, and \nwas regarded, on account of its elegance and proximity to the \nUniversity, with peculiar distrust by May hew and his orthodox \ncontemporaries. It was thought that if the ministerial plan \nwas carried out Dr. Apthorp had an eye to the Episcopate, and \nhis mansion was alluded to as \" the palace of one of the humble \nsuccessors of the Apostles.\" So uncomfortable did his antag- \nonists render his ministry, that Dr. Apthorp gave up his charge \nand removed to England in the latter part of 1764. \n\nThe pleasant old house seems next to have been occupied by \nJohn Borland, a merchant of the capital, who abandoned it on \nthe breaking out of hostilities, and took refuge in Boston, where \nhe died the same year (1775) from the effects of a fall. \n\nUnder the new order of things the mansion became the \nheadquarters of the Connecticut troops, with Old Put at their \nhead, on their arrival at Cambridge, and Putnam probably. re- \nmained there until after the battle of Bunker Hill. It con- \ntinued a barrack, occupied by three companies, until finally \ncleared and taken possession of by the Committee of Safety, \nthe then executive authority of the province. \n\nIts next inhabitant was \" John Burgoyne, Esquire, lieu- \ntenant-general of his Majesty's armies in America, colonel \nof the queen'.s regiment of light dragoons, governor of Port \nWilliam in North Britain, one of the representatives of the \nCommons of Great Britain, and commanding an army and fleet \non an expedition from Canada,\" etc., etc., etc. Such is a faith- \nful enumeration of the titles of this illustrious Gascon as pre- \nfixed to his bombastic proclamation, and which must have left \nthe herald breathless long ere he arrived at the \" Whereas.\" \nPer a pithy history of the campaign which led to Burgoyne's \nenforced residence here, commend us to the poet : — \n\n\" Biirgojnie gaecl wp, like spur an' whip, \nTill Eraser brave did fa', man ; \nThen lost his way ae misty day, \nIn Saratoga shaw, man,\" \n\n\n198 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe house fronts towards Mount Auburn Street, and over- \nlooked the river when Cambridge was yet a conservative, old- \nfashioned country town. That street was then the high-road, \nwhich wound around the foot of the garden, making a sharp \ncurve to the north where it is now joined by Harvard Street. \nIt was, therefore, no lack of respect to the Rev. Edward Holy- \noke, the inhabitant of the somewhat less pretending dwelling \nof the College presidents, that caused Dr. Apthorp to turn his \nback in his direction. \n\nThe true front bears a strong family resemblance to the \nVassall-Longfellow mansion, the design of which was perhaps \nfollowed by the architect of this. The wooden balustrade \nwhich surmounted, and at the same time relieved, the bare \noutline of the roof was swept aAvay in the great September gale \nof 1815. A third story, which makes the house look like an \nill-assorted pair joined in matrimonial bands for life, is said to \nbe the work of Mr. Borland, who required additional space for \nhis household slaves. The line of the old cornice shows where \nthe roof was separated from the original structure. The posi- \ntion of the outbuildings, now huddled together in close con- \ntact with the house, has been changed by the stress of those \ncircumstances which have from time to time denuded the estate \nof portions of its ancient belongings. The clergyman's grounds \nextended to Holyoke Street on the one hand, and for an equal \ndistance on the other, and were entered by the carriage-drive \nfrom the side of Harvard Street. \n\nAs it now stands, about equidistant from the avenues in \nfront and rear, it seems a patrician of the old regime, mthdraw- \ning itself instinctively from contact with its upstart neighbors. \nThe house which John Adams's apprehensions converted into a \nLambeth Palace was, happily for its occupant, never the seat \nof an Episcopal see, or it might have shared the fate with which \n\"Wat Tyler's bands visited the ancient castellated residence of \nthe Archbishops of Canterbury. \n\n\"We found the interior of the house worthy of inspection. \nThere is a broad, generous hall, with its staircase railed in with \nthe curiously wrought balusters, which the taste of the times \n\n\nA DAY AT HAKVARD. 199 \n\nrequired to be different in form and design. A handsome re- \nception-room opens at the left, a library at the right. The for- \nmer was the state apartment, and a truly elegant one. The \nceilings are high, and the wainscots, panels, and mouldings \nwere enriched with carvings. The fireplace has still the blue \nDutch tiles vnih. their Scripture allegories, and the .ornamental \nfire-back is iu its place. \n\nDirectly above is the state chamber, a luxurious apartment \nwithin and without. We say without, for we looked down \nupon the gardens, with theii' box-bordered walks and their un- \nfolding beauties of leaf and flower, — the fruit-trees dressed in \nbridal blossoms, the Pyrus Japonica in its gorgeous crimson \nbloom, with white-starred Spircea and Deutzia c/racilis en- \nshrouded in their fragrant mists. \n\n\" A brave old house ! a garden full of bees, \nLarge dropping poppies, and queen hollyhocks, \nWith butterflies for crowns, — tree peonies. \nAnd pinks and goldilocks.\" \n\nIn this bedchamber, which wooed the slumbers of the \nsybarite BurgojTie, the walls are formed in panels, ornamented \nwith paper representing fruit, landscapes, ruins, etc., — a species \nof decoration both rare and costly at the period when the house \nwas built. . Mr. Jonathan Simpson, Jr., who married a daughter \nof Mr. Borland, became the proprietor after the old war. Mrs. \nManning, a later occupant, had lived to see many changes \nfrom her venerable roof, and the prediction that her prospect \nwould never be impaired answered by the overtopping walls of \ncontiguous buildings. \n\n\"We crave the reader's indulgence while we return for a \nmoment upon our own footsteps to Dana Hill, upon which we \nhave hitherto traced the defensive lines. The family for whom \nthe eminence is named have been distinguished in law, politics, \nand letters, — from Richard Dana, of pre-Revolutionary fame, \nto his descendants of to-day. \n\nThe Dana mansion, surrounded by beautiful grounds, for-\" \nmerly stood some two hundred feet back from the present \nMain Street, and between Ellery and Dana Streets. It was a \n\n\n200 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nwooden house, of two stories, not unlike in general appearance \nthat of Mr. Longfellow, but was many years since destroyed \nby fire. \n\nJudge Francis Dana, a law-student with Trowbridge, and' \nwho was succeeded as chief justice of Massachusetts by The- \nophilus Parsons, filled many positions of high trust and respon- \nsibility both at home and abroad. The name of Ellery Street \nhappily recalls that of the family of Mrs. Judge Dana. With \nthe career of Richard H. Dana, poet and essayist, son of the \njudge, and with that of the younger Eichard H. and Edmund \nhis brother, grandsons of the jurist, the public are familiar. \n\nWhen William Ellery Channing was an undergraduate he \nresided in the family mansion of the Danas, the wife of the \n\nchief justice being his maternal aunt. It \nis said that, although half a mile distant \nfrom college, he was always punctual at \nprayers, which were then at six o'clock \nthrough the whole year. \n\nBetween Arrow and Mount Auburn \nStreets was the estate of David Phips, the \nsheriff of Middlesex, colonel of the gover- \nnor's troop and son of Lieutenant-Governor \nSpencer Phips. A proscribed royalist, his \nhouse, some time a hospital, was afterwards \nthe residence of William Winthrop, and \nwas standing not many years ago. The \nestate is more interesting to the antiquary \nas that of Major-General Daniel Gookin, Indian superintendent \nin the time of Eliot, and one of the licensers of the printing- \npress in 16G2, — an ofiice supposed not to haA'e been too arduous \nin his time, and not considered compatible with liberty in our \nown. What this old censor would have said to many of the \nso-called respectable publications of to-day is not a matter of \ndoubtful conjecture. It was under Gookin's roof, and perhaps \non this very spot, that Generals Goffe and Whalley were shel- \ntered until the news of the Restoration and Act of Indemnity \neaused them to seek another asylum, \n\n\nGOOKIN. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 201 \n\nThe large, square wooden house at the corner of Harvard and \nQuiucy Streets, and which stands upon the extreme limit of \ntlie College grounds in this direction, was the first observatory \nat Harvard. It long continued the residence of Rev. Dr. Pea- \nbody, chaplain of the College. William Cranch Bond, subse- \nquently professor of astronomy, was a skilful optician, who \nhad, from innate love of the science of the heavens, established \na small observatory of his own in Dorchester, where he pur- \nsued his investigations. He was invited to Harvard, and, with \nthe aid of such instruments as could be obtained, founded in \nthis house what has since grown to be a credit to the Univer- \nsity and to America. He had the assistance of some of the \nprofessors, and of President Hill and others. Triangular points \nwere established in connection with this position at Milton Hill \nand at Bunker Hill. It was the intention to have erected an \nobservatory on Milton Hill, but difficulties of a financial char- \nacter interposed, and President Quincy purchased Craigie Hill, \nthe present excellent location. \n\nWe are now trenching upon classic ground. We have passed \nthe sites of the old parsonage of the first parish, built in 1670, \nand in which all the ministers, from Mr. Mitchell to Dr. \nHolmes, resided, taken down in 1843 ; the traditional Fellows' \nOrchard, on a corner of which now stands Gore HaU ; the \nhomes of Stephen Sewall, first Hancock Professor, and of the \nProfessors Wigglesworth, long since demolished or removed, to \nfind all these former landmarks included within the College \ngTounds. \n\nIf the reader obeys our instincts he will not fail to turn \naside and wend his way to the Library, erected in 1839-42, \nthrough the munificence of Governor Gore, enlarged by the \naddition of a wing in 1877. Within are the busts of \n\n\" Those dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule \nOur spirits from their urns.\" \n\nThe cabinets of precious manuscripts, some of them going \nbefore the art of printing, and almost putting it to blush with \ntheir beautifully illuminated pages ; the alcoves, inscribed with \n\nQ* \n\n\n202 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nthe benefactors' names, and garnered with the thoughts and \ndeeds of centuries, — each a storehouse of many busy brains, \nand each contributing to the aggregate of human knowledge ; — \nall these seemed like so many ladened hives of human patience, \nindustry, and, perchance, of ill-requited toil. \n\n\nGORE HALL, 1S73. \n\nHere is your dainty fellow in rich binding, glittering in gold \ntitle, and swelling with importance, — a parvenu among books. \nYon see it is but little consulted, — the verdict of condemna- \ntion. Here is a Body of Divinity, once belonging to Samuel \nParris, first minister of Danvers, in Avhose family witchcraft \nhad its beginning in 1692. His name is on the fly-leaf, the \nink scarcely faded, while his bones have long since mouldered. \nTruly, we apprehend such bulky bodies must have sadly lacked \nsoul ! Many of Hollis's books are on the shelves, beautifullj\"- \nbound, and stamped with the owner's opinions of their merits \nby placing the owl, his family emblem, iipside down when he \nvnshed to express his disapproval. \n\nSomehow Ave cannot take the book of an author, known \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 203 \n\nor unknown, from its accustomed place without becoming as \ndeeply contemplative as was ever Hamlet over the skull of \nYorick, or without thinking that each sentence may have been \ndistilled from an overworked, thought-compressed brain. But \nif one laborer faints and falls out of the ranks, twenty arise to \ntake his place, and still the delvers in the mine follow the \nalluring vein, and still the warfare against ignorance goes oft. \n\nThe library was originally deposited in Old Harvard, which \nwas destroyed by fire on the 24th January, 1764, and with it \nthe College library, consisting of about five thousand volumes \nof printed books and many invaluable manuscripts. The \nphilosophical apparatus was also lost. This was a severe and \nirreparable blow to the College, for the books given by John \nHarvard, the founder. Sir Kenelm Digby, Sir John Maynard, \nDr. Lightfoot, Dr. Gale, Bishop Berkely, and the first Thomas \nHollis, together with the Greek and Hebrew types belonging \nto the College, perished in the flames. Only a single volume \nof the donation of Harvard remains from the fire. Its title is \n\"Douname's Christian Warfare.\" \n\nA picture of the Hbrary as it existed before this accident is \ngiven by a visitor to the College in 1750 : — \n\n\" The library is very large and well stored with books but much \nabused by frequent use. The repository of curiosities which was not \nover well stock'd. Saw 2 Human Skellitons a peice Neigro's hide \ntan'd &c. Homes and bones of land and sea animals, fishes, skins \nof different animals stuffVl &c. The skjill of a Famous Indian \nWarrior, where was also the moddell of the Boston Man of Warr of \n40 Gunns compleatly rig'd &c.\" \n\nWe can only indulge in vain regrets that so many valuable \ncollections relative to New England history have been swept \naway. The fire which destroyed Boston Town House in \n1747; th'e mobs which pillaged the house of Governor Hutchin- \nson, and also the Admiralty archives ; the mutilation of the \ninvaluable Prince library stored in the tower of the Old \nSouth, of the destruction of which Dr. Belknap related that he \nwas a witness, and which was used from day to day to kindle \n\n\n204 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe fires of the vandal soldiery ; the plunder of the Court of \nCommon Pleas by the same lawless soldiery, — aU have added \nto the havoc among our early clironicles, which the conflagra- \ntion at Harvard assisted to make a lamentably conspicuous \nfuneral-pyre to learning. \n\nAfter the fire the library was renewed by contributions, \namong the most valuable of which was the gift of a consider- \nable part of Governor Bernard's private library. John Han- \ncock was the donor, in 1772, of a large number of books, and \nalso of a carpet for the floor and paper for the walls. The \nlibrary and apparatus were packed up on the day before the \nbattle of Bunker Hill, under the care of Samuel Phillips, \nassisted by Thompson, afterwards Count Rumford, and re- \nmoved, first to Andover, and a part subsequently to Concord, \nto which place the government and many of the students had \nretired. Many of the books, however, were probably scattered \nin private hands, as we find President Langdon advertising for \nthe return of the apparatus and library to Mr. Winthrop, the \nlibrarian, early in 1778. \n\nHere are works on which the writers have expended a \nlifetime of patient research, and which are highly prized by \nscholars ; but their laborious composition has failed to meet \nsuch reward as would keep even the body and soul of an author \ntogether. And here are yet others that have struck the fickle \nchord of transient popular favor, requiting their makers with \ngolden showers, and perhaps advancement to high places of \nhonor. In our own day it is literary buffoonery that pays the \nbest. Once master the secret how \" to set the table in a roar,\" \nbe it never so wisely, and we warrant you success. Perhaps it \nis because, as a people, we laugh too little that we are wiUing \nto pay so well for a little of the scanty Avit and a good deal of \nthe chalk and sawdust of the circus. \n\nAmong other treasures which the hbrary contains i*s a copy \nof Eliot's Indian Bible, the first Bible printed on the continent \nof America, perhaps in the Indian College, certainly on Samuel \nGreen's Cambridge press, though where this press was set up \ndihgent inquiry has failed to enlighten us. In 1720, as we \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 205 \n\ngather from an English authority, the press was kept either in \nHarvard or Stoughton, the only two buildings then existing. \n\nLast, but not least, we have chanced on Father Rale's Dic- \ntionary of the Abenaquis, captured, with the priest's strong- \nbox, at Norridgewock, in 1721. Sebastian Rale exercised \ngreat influence over the eastern Indians, among whom he re- \nsided after his coming to Canada in 1689. This influence, \nwhich was exerted on behalf of the French, by exciting the \nIndians to commit depredations. upon the frontier settlements \nof the English, caused an attempt to be made to seize Rale at \nhis house at Norridgewock by a party led by Colonel West- \nbrook. The priest escaped, but his strong-box was taken, and \nin it M'ere found the letters of M. de VaudreuU, Governor of \nCanada, which exhibited Rale in the light of a political agent. \n\nThis attempt was retaliated by the Indians, and Lovewell's \nWar ensued. In 1724 Norridgewock was surprised and Rale \nkilled, refusing, it is alleged, the quarter offered him. Rale was \nslain near a cross which he had erected near the middle of the \nvillage, and with him some Indians who endeavored to defend \nhim. The father went boldly forth to meet his enemies, and \ndied, like a martyr, at the foot of the cross. He was scalped, \nhis chapel destroyed, and the plate and furniture of the altar, \nwith the devotional flag, brought away as trophies. The strong- \nbox passed into the possession of the family of Colonel West- \nbrook, the commander of the Eastern forces. The story is \nharrowing, but true. \n\nAll the librarians have been noted men. John Langdon \nSibley had presided over it since 1856, with previous service \nas assistant for many years after his graduation in 1825. Him- \nself a scholar, and an author whose energies have been chiefly \nexerted in behalf of his Alma Mater, his long experience had \nmade of him a living encyclopedia, with brain arranged in \npigeon-holes and alcoves, and where the information accumu- \nlated for so many studious years was always at command, — \nnot pressed and laid away to moulder in its living receptacle. \n\nThe idea of a secure depository for the College library origi- \nnated in an attempt, in April, 1829, to blow up Harvard Hall. \n\n\n206 HISTOUIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n• Leaving the castellated granite Library, the first attempt at \narchitectural display these precincts knew, we pass on to the \nancient dwelling-place of the governors of the College, known \nas the President's House. \n\nIt is a venerable gambrel-roofed structure, of no mean con- \nsideration in its day, and certainly an object remarkable enough \nfor its antiquated appearance, standing, as it does, solitary and \nalone, of all its companions that once stretched along the lane. \nA tall elm at its back, another at its side, droop over it lov- \ningly and tenderly. These are all that remain of a number \nplanted by President Willard, the exigencies of improvement \nhaving cut off a portion of the grounds in front, now turned \ninto the street. \n\nThe house is of two stories, with a chimney at either end; \nand a straggling collection of buildings at its back, which the \nnecessities of various occupants have called into being. It was \nliterally the habitation of the presidents of the College for a \nhundred and twenty years, beginning with Benjamin Wads- \nworth, minister of the First Church in Boston, and son of the \nold Indian fighter, for whom it was erected. The entry from \nthe President's MS. book, in the College Library, wliich follows, \nfixes the date with precision : — \n\n\" The President's House to dwell in was raised May 24, 1726. No \nlife was lost nor person hurt in raising it ; thanks be to God for his \npreserving goodness. In y\" evening those who raised y' House, had \na supper in y Hall ; after wch we sang y' first stave or staff in \ny 127 Psalm. \n\n\" 27 Oct. 1726. This night some of our family lodged at y New \nHoiise built for y' President; Nov. 4 at night was y' first time y' my \nwife and I lodo'd there. The house was not half finished within.\" \n\n\n^o \n\n\nMiss Eliza Susan Quincy, daughter of President Quincy, who \nresided in this house for sixteen years, has lately given the \nannexed description of the old mansion.* She says : — \n\n\" My sketch represents the liouse as Washington saw it, except \nthat there Avere only two windows on each side the porch in the \n\n* Charles Deane, in Mass. Hist. Society's Proceedings. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. \n\n\n207 \n\n\nlowest story. The enlargement of the dining and drawing rooms, \nwhich added a* third, was subsequently made under the direction of \nTreasurer Storer, as hLs daughter informed me. The room in the \nrear of the drawing-room, on the right hand as you enter, was the \nPresident's study, until the presidency of Webber, when the end of \nthe house was added, with a kitchen and chamber and dressing-room, \nvery commodiously arranged, I was told, under the direction of \nMrs. Webber. The brick building was built at the same time for \nthe President's study and Freshman's room beneath it, and for the \npreservation of the college manuscripts. I went over the house with \nmy father and mother and President Kirkland, soon after his acces- \nsion. As there were no regular records kept during his presidency \nof eighteen years, he did not add much to the manuscripts. We \nthen little imagined that we should be the next occupants of the \nmansion, should repair and arrange the house imder Mrs. Quincy's \ndirection, and reside in it sixteen very happy years. I regret its \npresent dilapidated state, and rejoice, in view of ' the new departure,' \nas it is termed, that I sketched the antiquities and old mansions of \nOld Cambridge.\" \n\nThe brick building alluded to, and which now joins the ex- \ntreme rear additions, formerly stood on the left-hand side of the \nmansion as the spectator faces it, and communicated with it. \nThis part was built under the supervision of President Webber, \nand was, in 1871, removed to its present situation. It is now \nthe office of the College Steward. \n\nProbably no private mansion in America has seen so many \nillustrious personages under its roof- tree as \nthe President's House. Besides its occu- \npancy by Wadsworth, Holyoke, Locke, \nLangdon, Willard, Webber, Kirkland, \nQuincy, and Everett, the roj^al governors \nhave assembled there on successive anniver- \nsaries, and no distinguished traveller passed \nits door without paying his respects to the \nadministration for the time being. No \ndoubt the eccentric Dr. AVitherspoon broke \nbread at the table of Holyoke when he visited Boston in the \nmemorable year 1768, \n\n\nWILLARD. \n\n\n208 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe office of president, though for a long time, either through \npolicy or parsimony, a dependent one, was always an eminent \nmark of distinction, and its possessor was regarded — outside \nthe College walls at least, if not always within — with venera- \ntion and respect. The earlier incumhents were men who had \nacquired great influence for their piety and learning as teachers \n\nI 4 of the people, whose spiritual and temporal \n\n^Jw wants were in those primitive days equally \n\n•^^^ under guardianship. \n\n^^^^g^g^ Chauncy, who is styled in the \" Magnalia \" \n\n(^__\\_l£^.. \"^ the Cadmus Americana, and who rose at four \n\n^^^^^f^-^i=-=/y in the morning, summer and winter; In- \n\n%^^^^^^^Bw crease Mather, whose dj'^nasty embraced a \n\nwill lis < 1/ P^^^o^ 0^ great importance in the political \n\n^11 K history of the Colony ; Wadsworth, in \n\n^^=^iiy^^^^ whose time the Church of England made its \n\nCHAUNCY. ineffectual effort to obtain an entrance into \n\nthe government; Holyoke, whose term is memorable as the \nlongest of the series ; and Langdon, wlio left his office at the \ndictation of a cabal of students, — all are honored names, and \npart of the history of their times. \n\nUpon the coming of General Washington to Cambridge the \nProvincial Congress assigned the President's House for his use, \nnot because it was the best by many the place could aiford, but \nprobably because it was the only one then unoccupied by the \nprovincial forces or their military adjuncts. The house not \nbeing in readiness when the General arrived, on the 2d of July, \n1775, he availed himself, temporarily, of another situation, and \nwithin a week indicated his preference for the Vassall House, \nAvhich he had not passed down the old Watertown road with- \nout observing. There is no conclusive evidence that the Gen- \neral ever occupied the President's House, and the absence of \nany tradition involves it in doubt. \n\nWashington made a passing visit to Cambridge in 1789, and \nwas welcomed on behalf of the governors of the College by \nPresident Willard. He was then accompanied by Tobias Lear, \nwho had owed his confidential position as Washington's secre- \ntary to the good offices of Willard. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 209 \n\nWith President Willard departed the day of big wigs at the \nPresident's House. He always appeared abroad in the full-bot- \ntomed white periwig sanctioned by the custom of the times ; \nthis was exchanged in the study for a velvet cap, such as \nadorn the heads of some of the portraits in Old Massachusetts \nHall. \n\nIt is related that when Congress was sitting in New York, \nduring Wasliington's term, President Willard visited that place. \nIt chanced that he wore his full-bottomed wig, which attracted \nso great a crowd when he walked about as to occasion on his \npart apprehensions of ill usage from the mob. With what satis- \nfaction he must have shaken off the dust of that barbarous city, \nwhere the sight of his perimg aroused a curiosity akin to that \nexliibited by the Goths when they beheld the long white beards \nof the Eoman senators. \n\nIn Willard's time a club of gentlemen were accustomed to \nassemble at his house on certain evenings, of which, besides the \nPresident and resident professors, Judge Dana, Governor Gerry, \nMr. Craigie, Mr. Gannett, and others, were members. Bachelors \nwere excluded, which caused Judge Winthrop, the former libra- \nrian and one of the tabooed, to say they met to talk over their \ngrievances. \n\nPresident Kirkland, an elegant scholar and most fascinating \ncompanion, was noted for his pithy sayings as well as for his wit. \nOn one occasion an ambitious young fellow, who had a pretty \ngood opinion of himself, having asked the Doctor at what age \na man would be justified in becoming an author, replied, \"Wait \nuntil you are forty ; after that you wiU never print anj'thing.\" \nTo a student who observed in his presence that dress of itself \nwas of little consequence, he made this shrewd remark : \" There \nare many tilings which there is no particular merit in doing, \nbut which there is positive demerit in leaving undone.\" \n\nThe rare abilities of Dr. Kirkland make it a never-failing re- \ngret that he was by nature indolent, and indisposed to call into \naction the full powers of his mind, or to bring forward his \nreserves of information except in brilliant conversation. He \ntalked apparently without effort, and could unite the merest \n\nN \n\n\n210 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nminutes of a discourse with little or no preparation and witli \nmarvellous address. \n\nPresident Kirkland is described as of middling stature, \nportly, with fair complexion, a round and comely face, with \nblue eyes, a small mouth, regular and beautiful teeth, and a \ncountenance noble, frank, and intelligent. \n\nJosiah Quincy, after an acti^^e political life, became President \nin 1849. During his occupancy of the chair Gore Hall was \nbuilt, and the security of the library, which had given him \nmuch solicitude, was assured against ordinary contingencies. \nThe sixteen years of Mr. Quincy's administration were a period \nof great usefulness and prosperity to the College. In 1840 the \nPresident published his History of Harvard University, — a \nwork of much value, in which he was assisted by his daughter, \nEliza, a lady whose culture and tastes eminently qualified her \nfor the work. \n\nMr. Everett's excessive sensitiveness contributed to make his \ncontact with so many young and turbulent spirits at times dis- \nquieting. His elegant, classic diction and superb manner have \ngained for him an enviable name as an orator. He would never, \nif possible, speak extemporaneously, but carefully prepared and \ncommitted his addresses. His mind was quick to grasp any \ncircumstance and turn it to account ; the simile of a drop of \nwater, used by him with much force, occurred to him, it is said, \nthrough the dropping from a leak over his head while perform- \ning his morning ablutions. Similarly, while once on his way \nto deliver an address at Williams College, he happened to pass \nthe night at Stockbridge, where a gentleman exhibited to him \nthe watch of Baron Dieskau. The next day this little relic \nfurnished the theme for a beautiful passage, into which the de- \nfeat of Dieskau and the death of Colonel Williams, on the same \nfield, M^ere effectively interwoven. \n\nRev. Sydney Smith, with Avhom Mr. Everett passed some \ntLine in Somersetshire, thus spoke of him : ^- \n\n\" He made upon us the same impression he appears to make uni- \nversally in this country. We tliought him (a character which the \nEnglish always receive with affectionate regaid) an amiable Anieri- \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAKD. 211 \n\ncan, republican without rudeness, and accomplislied without ostenta- \ntion. ' If I had known that gentleman five years ago (said one of \nmy guests), I should have been deep in the American funds ; and, as \nit is, I think at times that I see nineteen or twenty shillings in the \npound in his face.' \" \n\nIncrease Mather was the first person to receive the degree of \nDoctor of Divinity from Harvard. When he became President \nhe refused to accede to the requirement that the President \nshould reside at Cambridge, and finally resigned rather than \ncomply with it. Vice-President Willard is the only person \nwlio has administered the affairs of the College under that \ntitle, which was assumed to evade the rule of residence, and \nto enable him to continue his functions as pastor of the Old \nSouth, Boston. \n\nIt was Increase Mather, then (1700) President, who ordered \nEobert Calef's \"wicked book\" — a satire on witchcraft, en- \ntitled \" More \"Wonders of the Invisible World,\" and printed in \nLondon — burnt in the College yard, and the members of the \nreverend Doctor's church [The Old North) published a defence \nof their pastors, Increase and Cotton Mather, called \" Truth \nwill come off Conqueror.\" This publication proved even a greater \nsatire than Calef's, as the authors were erelong but too glad to \ndisavow all sympathy with the wretched superstition. \n\nThe President's chair, an ancient relic, used in the College, \nfrom an indefinite time, for conferring degrees, is preserved in \nGore Hall. Report represents it to have been brought to the \nCollege during the presidency of Holyoke as the gift of Eev. \nEbenezer Turell. It has a triangidar seat, and belongs to the \nearliest specimens of our ancestors' domestic furniture. \n\nIn Dunster Street we salute the name of the fii'st President \nof the College, whose habitation, it is conjectured, stood near. \nIt was at first called Water Street, and in it were situated the \nfirst church erected in Newtown, which stood on the west side, \na little south of the intersection of Mount Auburn Street, upon \nland formerly OAvned by Thaddeus M. Harris, and also the \nhouse of Thomas Dudley, the deputy of Governor Winthrop, \nwhose extravagance in ornamenting his habitation with a wain- \n\n\n212 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nscot made of clapboards the latter reproved. At the foot of \nWater Street was the old ferry by which communication was \nhad with the opposite shore. \n\nThe old meeting-house stood till about 1650, when the town \ntook order for building a new church on the Watch House Hill, \nof which presently. A vote of the town in the year mentioned \ndirects the repair of the old house \" with a 4 square roofe and \ncovered with shingle.\" The new house was to be forty foot \nsquare, covered in the same manner as was directed for the old, \nthe repair of which was discontinued, and the land belonging \nto it sold in 1651. \n\nDudley, the tough old soldier of Henri Quatre, with whom \nhe had fought at the siege of Amiens in 1597, with a captain's \ncommission from Queen Bess, finally settled in Eoxbury, and \nleft a name that has been honored in his descendants. His \nhouse stood on the west side of Water Street, near its southern \ntermination at Marsh Lane. Governor Belcher says : \" It was \nwrote of liim,^ \n\n' Here lies ITiomas Dudley that trusty old stud, \nA bargain 's a bargain and must be made good.' \" \n\nA brief glance at the topography of our surroundings will \nenable the reader to understand in what way the Englishmen \nlaid out what they intended for their capital town. They first \nreserved a square for a market-place, after the manner of the \nold English towns. This is the present Harvard Square, upon \nwhich the College grounds abut, and in its midst was perhaps \nplaced a central milliariiim, which marked the home points of \nthe converging roads. The plain, as level as a calm sea, ad- \nmitted the laying out of the town in squares, the streets cross- \ning each other at right angles. Between the market-place and \nthe river were erected the principal houses of the settlement, \nand some of the oldest now standing in Cambridge wiU be \nfonjid in this locality. \n/^We have noticed the ferry. About 1660 this was super- \nseded by \"the great bridge,\" rebuilt in 1690, and standing at \nthe Eevolution in its present situation at the foot of Boylston \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAED. 21 \n\n\no \n\n\nStreet. Over this bridge came Earl Percy with\" his reinforce- \nment on. that eventful morning in April which dissolved the \nBritish empire in America. The people, having notice of his \napproach, removed the \" leaves \" or flooring of the bridge, but, \nas they were not conveyed to any distance, they were soon \nfound and replaced by the Earl's troops. A draw was made in \nthe bridge at Washington's request in 1775. \n\nThe street leading from the market-place to the bridge was \nthe principal in the town for a long period, it being in the \ndirect route of travel from Boston via Roxbury and Little Cam- \nbridge (Brighton) to what is now Lexington, and from the \ncapital again by Charlestown Ferry to the Colleges, and thence \nby the bridge to Brookline and the southward, y \n\nIt was intended to make Newtown a foftrtied place, and a \nlevy was made on the several towns for this purpose. Eev. \nAbiel Holmes, writing in 1800, says : — \n\n\" This fortification was actually made, and the fosse which was \nthen dug around the town is, in some places, visible to this day. It. \ncommenced at Brick Wharf (originally called Windmill Hill) and \nran along the northern side of the present Common in Cambridge, \nand through what was then a thicket, but now constitutes a part of \nthe cultivated grounds of Mr. Nathaniel JarAds, beyond which it \ncannot be distinctly traced. It enclosed above one thousand acres.\" \n\nThe road to Watertown, now Brattle Street, and formerly \nthe great liighway to the south and west, left the market-place, \nas now, by the rear of the English Church, but communicated \nalso more du'ectly with Charlestown road by the north side of \nthe Common. It was by this road that Washington arrived \nin Cambridge and the army marched to New York. By it, \nalso, Burgoyne's troops reached their designated camps. The \nreader wUl go over it with us hereafter. AU these particulars \nare deemed essential to a comprehension of the mihtary oper- \nations of the siege of Boston when Cambridge was an intrenched \ncamp. \n\nNot far from the Square, and on the west side of Boylston \nStreet, is the site of Ebenezer Bradish's tavern, of repute in \nRevolutionary times. Its situation near the. bridge was com- \n\n\n214 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\npatible with the convenience of travellers ; nor was it too re- \nmote from the College halls for the requirements of the students \nwhen Latin classics became too dry, and Euclid too dull for \nliuman endurance. Many, we will venture to say, were the \nplump, big-bellied Dutch bottles smuggled from mine host's \ninto Old Harvard, Massachusetts, or Stoughton. Bradish kept \na livery too, which was no doubt well jjatronized by the col- \nlegians, though here he encountered some disgrace by letting \nhis horses to David Phips to carry off the province cannon at \n(.Cage's behest. Bradish seems, however, to have been well \naffected to the patriot cause. His inn was long the only one \nin the town, and had the honor of entertaining Generals Bur- \ngoyne. Philips, and the principal British officers on their first \narrival in Cambridge. This tavern, also later known as Porter's, \nwas for a time the annual resort of the Senior Class of the Col- \nlege on Class Day, for a dinner and final leave-taking of all \nacademical exercises. Bradish's was the rendezvous of Rufus \nPutnam's regiment in 1777. \n\nThe first publican in Old Cambridge was Andrew Belcher, \nan ancestor of the governor of that name, who was licensed in \n1652 \"to sell beare and bread, for entertainment of strangers \nand the good of the towne.\" It is at least a coincidence that a \nBelcher still dispenses rather more dainty viands in tlie same \nlocality. \n\nIt is a relief to find that in the year 1 750 there were some \nconvivial and even thirsty souls about, as we learn from the \njournal of a rollicking sea-captain, who was having his ship \nrepaired at Boston while he indulged in a run on shore : — \n\n\" Being now ready to Sale I determined to pay my way in time, \nwhich I accordingly did at M\" Graces at the Request of M' Heyleg- \nher and the Other Gentlemen Gave them a Good Supper with Wine \nand Arack Punch Galore, where Exceeding Merry Drinking Toasts \nSinging Roaring &c. untill Morning when Could S'carce see One \nanother being Blinded by the Wine Arack &c. we where in all ab' 20 \nin comp^\" \n\nThe tavern bills of the General Court in 1768-69 would \nastonish the ascetics of Beacon Hill. We remark a great dis- \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAKD. 215 \n\nparity between the quantity of fluids and edibles. In a docu- \nment now before us eighty dinners are flanked with one hun- \ndred and thii'ty-six bowls of punch, twenty-one bottles of sherry, \nand brandy at discretion. Truly ! we are tempted to exclaim \nwith Prince Hal on reading the bill of Falstafl's supper, — \n\n\" 0 monstrous ! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal \nof sack.\" \n\nWhat, then, would Prince Hal have said to a bill of your \nmodern alderman 1 \n\nReturning into the Square, we continue our peregrinations \naround the College enclosure. As you turn towards the Com- \nmon, in approaching from Harvard Street, you pass over the \nspot whereon the second edifice of the first church was erected. \nA little elevation which formerly existed here is supposed to \nhave been the Watch-house Hill, before mentioned, and later \ncalled Meeting-house Hill. In 1706 the third church was \nerected on this ground, and in 1756 the fourth house was \nraised, somewhat nearer Dane HaU. This church was taken \ndown in 1833, when the site became the property of the \nCollege. \n\nIn the meeting-house which stood here the First Provincial \nCongress held their session in 1774, after their adjournment \nfrom Salem and Concord. The Congress first met in the old \nCourt House on the 17th of October, but immediately adjourned \nto the meeting-house, of which Rev. Nathaniel Appleton was \nthen pastor, and who officiated as their chaplain. This was the \nperiod of the Port Act, and the crisis of the country. The \nCongress was earnestly engaged in measures for the relief of \nthe distressed and embargoed town of Boston, the formation of \nan army, a ci\\'il administration, and other revolutionary meas- \nures. Here was made the organization of the celebrated minute- \nmen, the appointment of Jedediah Preble, Artemas Ward, and \nSeth Pomeroy as general officers ; and of the famous Revolution- \nary committee of nine, of which Hancock, Warren, Church, \nDevens, White, Palmer, Quincy, Watson, and Orne were mem- \nbers. This body, called the Committee of Safety, wielded the \n\n\n216 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nexecutive power, and in the recess of Congress were vested with \nalim-st dictatorial authority. The members of the Second Con- \ntinental Congress were also chosen at this time. \n\nSpace does not permit us to linger among those giants who \nwelded the Old Thirteen togetlier with the fire of their elo- \nquence. One incident must have created no little sensation in \nan assembly of which probably a majority were slaveholders. \nA letter was brought into the Congress directed to Eev. Dr. \nAppleton, which was read. It represented the propriety while \nCongress was engaged in efforts to free themselves and the \npeople from slavery, that it should also take into consideration \nthe state and circumstances of the negro slaves in the province. \nAfter some debate the question \" was allowed to subside.\" \n\n\" A ! freedome is a nobill thing! \nFreedome mayse man to haiff liking ! \nFreedome all solace to man giffis ; \nHe levys at ese that frely levys ! \nA noble hart may haiff nane ese, \nNa ellys nocht that may him plese, \nGyff fredome failythe ; for fre liking \nIs yearnj-t our all other thing \nNa he, that ay hase levyt fre, \nMay nocht knaw well the propryte, \nThe angyr, na the WTetchji, dome. \nThat is cowplyt to foul thryldome.\" \n\nIn the olden time people were summoned to church by beat \nof drum, — until a beU was procured, a harsh and discordant \nappeal for the assembly of a peaceful congregation, — but those \nwere the days of the church militant. On the contrary, our \ngrandsires, whose ears were not attuned to the sound, could as \nlittle endure the roll of British drums near their sanctuaries on \na Sabbath morn, as could the poet the clangor of the bell of \nTron-Kirk which he so rudely apostrophized : — \n\n\" Oh ! were I provost o' the town, \nI swear by a' the powers aboon, \nI 'd bring ye wi' a reesle down ; \n\nNor should you think \n(So sair I 'd crack and clour your crown) \n\nAgain to clink.\" \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD. 217 \n\nThe old Court House, which has been named in connectiou \nwith the Henley trial, stood at tiist bodily within the Square, \nbut was later removed to the site of the present Lyceum build- \ning, and perhaps is even now existing in its rear, where iL is \nutiUzed for workshops. It was built in 1756, and continued to \nbe used by the courts until the proprietors of Lechmere Point \nobtained their removal to that location by the offer of a large \nbonus. The old wooden jail stood at the southwest corner of \nthe Square, and was but little used for the detention of crimi- \nnals after the erection of the stone jail at Concord in 1789. \nThe Court House witnessed the trials of many notable causes, \nand furnished the law-students of the University with a real \ntheatre, of which they were in the habit of availing them- \nselves. \n\nAs late as 1665 declarations and summonses were published \nby sound of trumpet. The crier opened the court in the \nking's name, and the judges and barristers in scarlet robes, \ngown, and ■wig, inspired the spectator with a wholesome sense \nof the majesty of the law. The usual form of a document was \n\"To aU Xtian people Greeting.\" \n\nUnder the first charter, or patent as it was usually called, the \nGovernor and Assistants were the sole depositaries of all power, \nAvhether legislative, executive, or judicial. When the patent \nwas silent the Scriptures were consulted as the proper guide. \nThe ministers and elders were, in all new exigencies, the ex- \npounders of the laAv, which was frequently made for the occa- \nsion and applied without hesitation. The cause of complaint \nwas briefly stated, and there were no pleadings. Hutchinson \nsays, that for more than the first ten years the parties spoke \nfor themselves, sometimes assisted, if the cause was weighty, \nby a patron, or man of superior abilities, but without fee or \nreward. The jury — and this marks the simplicity of the \ntimes — were allowed by law, if not satisfied with the opinion \nof the court, \" to consult any bystander.\" Such were the \nhumble beginnings of our courts of law. \n\nThe following is extracted from the early laws of Massachu- \nsetts : — \n\n10 \n\n\n218 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\" Everie marryed woeman shall be free from bodilie correction or \nstripes by her husband, unlesse it be in his owne defence upon her \nassalt. If there be any just cause of correction complaint shall be \nmade to Authoritie assembled in some court, from which onely she \nshall receive it.\" \n\nThe common law of England authorized the infliction of \nchastisement on a wife with a reasonable instrument. It is \nrelated that Judge Buller, charging a juay in such a case, said, \n\"Without undertaking to define exactly what a reasonable \ninstrument is, I hold, gentlemen of the jury, that a stick no \nbigger than my thumb comes clearly within that description.\" \nIt is further reported that a committee of ladies waited on him \nthe next day, to beg that they might be favored with the exact \ndimensions of his lordship's thumb. \n\nDane Hall, which bears the name of that eminent jurist and \nstatesman through whose bounty it arose, was erected in 1832 \nand enlarged in 1845. The south foundation-wall of Dane \nis the same as the north wall of the old meeting-house, so that \nLaw and Divinity rest here upon a common base. \n\nThe first law-professorship was established through the be- \nquest of Isaac Eoyall, the Medford loyahst, who gave by his \nwill more than two thousand acres of land in the towns of \nGranby and Eoyalston for this purpose. In 1815 Hon. Isaac \nParker, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, was appointed \nfirst professor, and in 1817, at his suggestion, a law school was \nestablished. Judge Parker's lectures were delivered in what \nAvas then known as the Philosophy Chamber, in Harvard Hall. \nBoth the Law and DiAdnity Schools were established during \nDr. Kirkland's presidency. It is worthy of mention that the \nfirst doctorate of laws was conferred on Washington for his \nexptdsion of the British from Boston. \n\nK^athan Dane, LL. D., a native of Ipswich and graduate of \nHarvard, is justly remembered as the framer, Avhile in Congress, \nof the celebrated \"Ordinance of 1787 \" for the government of \nthe territory northwest of the Ohio, by which slavery was \nexcluded from that immense region. In 1829 the Law School \nwas reorganized through the liberality of Mr. Dane, who had \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAKD. 219 \n\noffered a competent simi for a professorship, with the right of \nnominatiiig the first incumbent. The person who had been \nselected for the occupancy of the chair was Joseph Story, \nwhose fame as a jurist had cidminated on the Supreme Bench \nof the United States. \n\nJudge Story remained in the Dane Professorship until his \ndeath in 1845, a period of sixteen years. It is beUeved that \nhis life was shortened by his prodigious intellectual labors and \nthe demands made upon him for various kinds of literary work. \nAs a writer he belonged to the intense school, if such a char- \nacterization be admissible, and this mental tension appeared \nin the quick changes of liis countenance and in his nervous \nmovements as well as in the rapidity of his pen. A great \ntalker, he never lacked interested auditors ; for his was a mind \nof colossal stamp, and he never wanted language to give utter- \nance to his thoughts. \n\nThe first settlers in Massachusetts Bay did not recognize the \nlaw of England any further than it suited their interests. The \ncommon law does not appear, says Sullivan, to have been re- \ngarded under the old patent, nor for many years after the \nCharter of 1692. In 1647 the first importation of law books \nM^as made ; it comprised, — \n\n2 copies of Sir Edward Coke on Littleton, \n\n2 \" of the Book of Entries, \n\n2 \" of Sir Edward Coke on Magna Cbarta, \n\n2 \" of the New Terms of the Law, \n\n2 •'' of Dalton's Justice of the Peace, \n\n2 \" of Su- Edward Coke's Reports. \n\nThis was four years after the division of the Colony of Massa- \nchusetts Bay into four shires. Norfolk included that part of \nthe present county of Essex north of the Merrimac, and also \nthe settled part of New Hampshire. \n\nThere were attorneys here about ten years after the settle- \nment. Lechford, who came over in 1631, and returned to \nEngland in 1641, where he published a pamphlet called \" Plain \nDealing,\" says that \" every church member was a bishop, and. \n\n\n220 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nnot inclining to become one himself, lie could not be admitted \na freeman among them ; that the General Court and Quarter \nSessions exercised all the powers of King's Bench, Common \nPleas, Chancery, High Commission, Star Chamber, and of all \nthe other courts of England.\" For some offence Lecliford, de- \nbarred from pleading and deprived of practice, returned to \nEngland, to bear witness against the colonial magistrates. But \nfrom other authority than Lechford's, we know that the dis- \ntinction between freeman and non-freeman, members and non- \nmembers, appeared as striking to new-comers as that between \nCavalier and Eoundhead in Old England. \n\nIn 1687, almost sixty years from the first settlement of this \ncountry, there were but two attorneys in Massachusetts. The \nnoted crown agent, Randolph, wrote to a friend in England, in \nthat year, as follows : — \n\n\" I have wrote you the want we have of two or three honest at- \ntorneys, if there be any such thing in Nature. We have but two ; \none is Mr. West's creature, — came with him from New York, and \ndrives all before him. He takes extravagant fees, and for want of \nmore, the country cannot avoid coming to him.\" \n\nThe other appears to have been George EareweU, who said \nin open court in Charlestown that all causes must be brought \nto Boston, because there were not honest men enough in \nMiddlesex to make a jury to serve their turns. \n\nOur two oldest Universities have never displayed a political \nbias like Oxford and Cambridge in Old England, where the dis- \ntinction between \"Whig and Tory was so marked that when \nGeorge I. gave his library to Cambridge, the following epigram \nappeared : — \n\n\" King George observing with judicious eyes \nThe state of both his Universities, \nTo Oxford sent a troop of horse ; for why ? \nThat learned body wanted loyalty. \nTo Cambridge books he sent, as well disceraing \nHow much that loyal body wanted learning.\" \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 221 \n\n\nCHAPTER X. \n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. \n\n\" It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that \\isually \ntalk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable words.\" — Jack Cade. \n\nTHE Marquis of \"Wellesley is accredited with having said \nto an American, \" Establishing a seminary in New Eng- \nland at so early a period of time hastened your revolution \nhalf a century.\" This was a shrewd observation, and aptly \nsupplements the forecast of the commissioners of Charles II., \nwho said, in their report, made about 1666 : — \n\n\" It may be feared this collidg may afford as many scismaticks to \nthe Chiu-ch, and the Corporation as many rebells to the King, as for- \nmerly they have done if not timely prevented.\" \n\nThe earliest contemporary account of the founding of the \nCollege is found in a tract entitled \" New England's First \nFruits,\" dated at \" Boston in New England, September 26, \n1642,\" and published in London in 1643. This is, in point of \ntime, nearly coeval with the University, and is as follows : — \n\n\" After God had carried us safe to New England, and wee had \nbuilded our houses, pro^dded necessaries for our liveli-hood, rear'd \nconvenient places for God's worship, and settled the civill govern- \nment ; One of the next things we longed for and looked after was to \nadvance learning and perpetuate it to posterity ; dreading to leave \nan illiterate ministry to the churches when our present ministers \nshall lie in the dust. And as wee were thinking and consulting how \nto effect this great work ; it pleased God to stir up the heart of one \nMr. Harvard (a godly gentleman and a lover of learning, then liv- \ning amongst us) to give the one half of his estate (it being in all \nabout 1700 Z.) towards the erecting of a Colledge and all his Library; \nAfter him another gave 300 1, others after them cast in more, and the \npublique hand of the State added the rest : The Colledge was by \n\n\n222 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ncommon consent, appointed to be at Cambridge, (a place very pleas- \nant and accommodate) and is called (according to the name of its \nfirst founder) Harvard Colledge.\" \n\nThe account, with its quaint and pertinent title, gives also \nthe first description of the College itself : — \n\n\" The edifice is very faire and comely within and without, having \nin it a spacious hall ; where they daily meet at commons, lectures \nand Exercises ; and a large library \\vith some bookes to it, the gifts \nof diverse of our friends, then- chambers and studies also fitted for, \nand possessed by the students, and all other roomes of office neces- \nsary and convenient with all needful offices thereto belonging : And \nby the side of the Colledge a faire Granunar Schoole for the train- \ning up of young scholars and fitting them for Academical learning, \nthat still as they are judged ripe, they may be received into the \nColledge of this schoole : Master Corlet is the Mr. who hath very \nwell approved himself for his abilities, dexterity, and painfulnesse \nin teaching and education of the youths under him.\" \n\nEdward Johnson's account of New England, which appeared \nin 1654, mentions the single College building, which was of \nwood, as the commissioners before quoted say : — \n\n\" At Cambridge, they have a wooden Collidg, and in the yard a \nbrick pile of two Cages for the Indians, where the Commissioners \nsaw but one. They said they had three or more at scool.\" \n\nThe Indian seminary was built by the corporation in Eng- \nland, and in 1665 contained eight pupils, one of whom had \nbeen admitted into the College. It was torn down in 1698, \nand its bricks were probably used in Stoughtan, as the old \nbuilding was bought by Willis, tlie builder. \n\nThere existed formerly, in lieu of the low railing at present \ndividing the College grounds from the highway, a close fence, \nAvith an entrance opening upon the old College yard between \nHarvard and Massachusetts. This was superseded in time by \na more ornamental structure, with as many as four entrances, \nflanked by tall gateposts. The present streets, then but lanes, \nwere enlarged at the expense of the College territory, thus re- \nducing its area very materially. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 223 \n\nThe first building, or Old Harvard, was rebuilt of brick in \n1672 by the contributions of the Colony, Of the .£1890 raised \nfor this purpose, Boston gave £ 800. \n\nThe old structures ranging along the street which separates \nthe College enclosure from the Common are, with the exception \nof Stoughton, on their original sites, and were, when erected, \nfronting the principal highway through the town. Harvard, \nwhich is 'upon its old gi'ound, was the nucleus around which \nthe newer halls ranged themselves. Stoughton, second in the \norder of time, was built in 1698, and Massachusetts in 1720. \nThese are the three edifices shown in an illustration, of which \nthe original was published by William Price at the \" King's \nHead and Looking Glass,\" in Cornhill (Boston), and is dedi- \ncated to Lieutenant-Governor Spencer Phips. It is entitled \" A \nProspect of the CoUedges in Cambridge in New England.\" \n\nThe first Stoughton was placed a little in the rear of, and at \nright angles with. Harvard and Massachusetts, fronting the \nopen space between, so as to form three sides of a quadrangle. \nIt stood nearly on a line with Hollis, was of brick, and had the \nname of Governor Stoughton, the founder, inscribed upon it. \nThe foundation-stone was laid May 9, 1698, but, after standing \nnearly a century, having gone to irremediable decay, it was \ntaken down in 1781. A facsimile of this edifice appears in the \nbackground of Governor Stoughton's portrait, in the gallery in \nMassachusetts Hall. \n\nAs has been remarked, there is a probability that the College \npress was kept in either Harvard or Stoughton as early as \n1720, and the fact that the types belonging to the CoUege were \ndestroyed by the fire which consumed Harvard in 1764 gives \ncolor to the conjecture that the press was there. In May, \n1775, the Provincial Congress, having taken possession of the \nCollege, assigned a chamber in Stoughton to Samuel and \nEbenezer Hall, who printed the \" New England Chronicle and \nEssex Gazette \" there until the removal of the army from Cam- \nbridge. From this press, says a contemporary, \" issued streams \nof intelligence, and those patriotic songs and tracts which so \npre-eminently animated the defenders of American liberty.\" \n\n\n224 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nJohn Fox, who was born at Boston, in England, in 1517, \nthus speaks of the ait of jDrinting : — \n\n\" What man soever was the instrument [whereby this invention \nwas made] without all doubt, God himself was the ordainer and dis- \nposer thereof, no otherwise than he was of the gift of tongues, and \nthat for a similar purpose.\" \n\nIn 1639 the first printing-press erected in New England \nwas set up at Cambridge by Stephen Daye, at the charge of \nEev. Joseph Glover, who not only brought over the printer, \nbut everything necessary to the typographic art. \" The first \nthing printed was ' The Freeman's Oath,' the next an Almanac \nmade for New England by Mr. Pierce, mariner ; the next was \nthe Psalms newly turned into metre.\" * John Day, who lived \nin Elizabeth's time at Aldersgate, London, was a famous printer, \nwho is understood to have introduced the italic characters and \nthe first font of Saxon types into our \"typography. \n\nSamuel Green, into whose possession the press very early \ncame, and who is usually considered the first printer in America, \nwas an inhabitant of Cambridge in 1639, and pursued his call- \ning here for more than forty years, when he removed to Boston. \nGreen printed the \" Cambridge Platform \" in 1 649 ; the Laws \nin 1660; and the \"Psalter,\" \"Eliot's Catechism,\" \"Baxter's \nCall,\" and the Bible in the. Indian language in 1685. Daye's \npress, or some relics of it, are said to have been in existence as \nlate as 1809 at Windsor, Vt. All these early publications are \nof great rarity. \n\nMassachusetts, which is the first of the old halls reached in \ncoming from the Square, is the oldest building now standing. \nIt is but one remove from, and is the oldest existing specimen \nin Massachusetts of, our earliest types of architecture as applied \nto public edifices. Like Harvard, it presents its end to the \nstreet, and faces upon M'hat was the College green a century and \na half gone by, — perhaps the very place where Ptobert Calef 's \nwicked book was, by an edict which smacks strongly of the \nInquisition, burnt by order of Increase Mather. \n\n* Winthrop's Journal. \n\n\ny. \n\n\nY. \n\n\n3 \n\n\nY. \n\n\n/^ \n\n\ny \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, COKTINUED. 225 \n\nThe building, with its liigli gambrel roof, dormer windows, \nand wooden balustrade surmounting all, has a quaint and de- \ncidedly picturesque appearance. Though nominally of three \nstories, it shows five tiers of windows as we look at it, above \nwhich the parapet terminates in two tall chimneys. Between \neach range of windows is a belt giving an appearance of strength \nto the structure. On the summit of the western gable was a \nclock affixed to an ornamental wooden tablet, which is still in \nits place, although the clock has long since disappeared. Mas- \nsachusetts contained thirty-tAvo rooms and sixty-four studies, \nuntil its dilapidated condition compelled the removal of all the \ninterior woodwork, when it was converted into a gallery for the \nreception of tlie portraits since removed to Memorial Hall. \n\nMany of these portraits are originals of Smibert, Copley, and \nStuart, which makes the collection one of rare value and ex- \ncellence. Of these, two of the most characteristic are of old \nThomas Hancock, the merchant prince, and founder of the pro- \nfessorship of that name, and of Nicholas Boylston, another \neminent benefactor, — both Copleys. Hancock, who was the \ngovernor's uncle, and who became very rich through his con- \ntracts for supplying Loudon's and Amherst's armies, kept a \nbookseller's shop at the \" Bible and Three Crowns \" in Ann \nStreet, Boston, as early as 1726. \n\nCopley has delineated him in a suit of black velvet, white \nsilk stockings, and shoes with gold buckles. One of the hands \nis gloved, while the other, uncovered, shows the beautiful mem- \nber which plays so important a part in all of that painter's \nworks. The old gentleman's clothes fit as if he had been melt- \ned down and poured into them, and his ruffles, big-wig, cocked \nhat, and gold-headed cane supply materials for completing an \nattire suited to the dignity of a nabob of 1756. The artist \ngives his subject a double chin, shrewd, smallish eyes, and a \ngeneral expression of complacency and good-nature. What we \nremark about Copley is his ability to paint a close-shaven face \non which the beard may still be traced, with wonderful faith- \nfulness to natui'e ; every one of his portraits has a character of \nits own. \n\n10* o \n\n\n226 HISTOIUC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nBoylston is represented in a neglige costume, with a dressing- \ngown of blue damask, the usual purple-velvet cap on his head, \n. and his feet encased in slippers. This portrait was painted at the \nrequest of the corporation in partial acknowledgment of the \nbequest of .£1500 lawful money by Boylston, to found a profes- \nsorship of oratory and rhetoric, of which John Quincy Adams \nwas the first professor. The portrait ordered by the College \nwas a copy from the original by Copley, and was directed to \nbe hung in the Pliilosophy Eoom beside those of Hancock and \nHolHs. \n\nThe portraits of Thomas Hollis, one of a family celebrated for \nits many benefactions to the College, and of President Holyoke, \nare also by Copley ; that of John Lovell, the tory schoolmaster \nof Boston, is a Smibert. The full length of John Adams ex- \nhibits a figure full of animation, attired in an elegant suit of \nbrown velvet, with dress sword and short curled wig. As a \nwhole, it may fairly claim to take rank with the superb portrait \nof Colonel Josiah Quincy in the possession of his descendants, \nand overshadows the full length of J. Q. Adams by Stuart, \nhanging near it. There is also a portrait of Count Rumford. \n\nAll these portraits are admirable studies of the costumes of \ntheir time, and as such have an interest rivalling their purely \nartistic merits. One of the irreparable consequences of the great \nfire in Boston, of November, 1872, was the loss of a score or \nmore of Copley's portraits wlii^h Avere stored within the burnt \ndistrict. \n\nIn 1806 the College corporation having represented to the \nGeneral Court that the proceeds of the lottery granted for the \nuse of the University by an act passed June 14, 1794, were in- \nsufficient, and that great and expensive repairs were necessary \nto be made on Massachusetts Hall, they were empowered by an \nact passed March 14, to raise $ 30,000 by lottery, to erect the \n\" new building called Stoughton Hall,\" and for the purpose of \nrepairing Massachusetts, under direction of the President and \nFellows, who were to appoint agents and publish the schemes in \nthe papers. \n\nA lottery had been authorized as early as 1765 to raise \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. \n\n\n227 \n\n\nfunds for the \"new building\" (Harvard Hall), another in \n1794, — in which the College itself drew the principal prize \n(No. 18,547) of ten thousand \n\nILLIARD k METCA1 \n\n\n■ and still another \n\n\nSew O ^ tti \n\n\ndollars, \nin 1811. \n\\/ When the camps were \nformed at Cambridge, the \nCollege buildings were found \nvery convenient for barracks ; \nbut as the greater part of \nthe troops encamped during \nthe summer of 1775, they \nwere made available for every \nvariety of military offices as \nwell as for a certain number \nof soldiers. In June Captain J \nSmith was ordered to quar- \nter in No. 6, and Captain \nSephens in No. 2 of Massa- \nchusetts, while Mr. Adams, \na sutler, was assigned to No. \n17. The commissariat was in \nthe College yard, where the \ndetails from all the posts came \nto draw rations. Nearly two \nthousand men were sheltered \nin the five College buildings \nstanding in the winter of \n1775 - 76, of which Harvard \nreceived 640, Stoughton 240, \nand the chapel 160. \n\nHarvard Hall, as it now \nappears, was rebuilt in 1765. \nThe fire which destroyed its \npredecessor was supposed to \nhave originated under the hearth of the library, Avhere a fire had \nbeen kept for the use of the General Court, which Avas then \n\n\n228 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nsitting there on account of the prevalence of small-pox in Bos- \nton. Two days after this accident the General Court passed \na resolve to rebuild Harvard Hall. The new edifice contained a \nchapel, dining-hall, library, museum, philosophy chamber, and \nan apartment for the philosophical apparatus. \n\nSeveral interesting incidents are associated with the rebuild- \ning of Harvard. \"W^ien the Rev. George Whitefield was first \nin New England he was engaged in an acrimonious controversy \nwith the President and some of the instructors of the College. \nUpon learning of the loss the seminary had sustained, White- \nfield, putting all animosities aside, solicited contributions in \nEngland and Scotland with generous results. On the occasion \nof the last visit of this celebrated preacher to America every \nattention was paid him by the President and Fellows of \nthe University. Dr. Appleton, who had moderately opposed \nWhitefield's teachings, invited him to preach in his pulpit, and \nthe scene is said to have been one of \"reat interest. \n\nHarvard Hall was planned by Governor Bernard, — a great \nfriend of the College, whatever else his demerits, — and while it \nwas building he would not suffer the least departure from his \nplan. It is said he could repeat the whole of Shakespeare. \nThat he was somewhat sensitive to the many lampoons levelled \nat him may be inferred from his complaint to the council of a \npiece in the Boston Gazette, which ended with these lines : — \n\n\" And if such men are by God appointed, \nThe devil may be the Lord's auoLnted.\" \n\nShortly after the arrival of the troops from England in 1768, \nwhich was one of Bernard's measures, the portrait of the Gov- \nernor which hung in Harvard Hall was found with a piece cut \nout of the breast, exactly describing a heart. The mutilated \npicture disappeared and could never be traced. \n\nAfter Bernard's return home it was reported, and currently \nbelieved, that he was driven out of the Smyrna Coffee House \nin London, by General Oglethorpe, who told him he was a \ndirty, factious scoundrel, who smelled cursed strong of the \nhangman. The General ordered the Governor to le^ve the \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 229 \n\nloom as one unworthy to mix with gentlemen, but offered to \ngive him the satisfaction of following him to the door had he \nanything to reply. The Governor, according to the account, \nleft the house like a guilty coward. \n\nHarvard, the building of which Thomas Dawes superintended, \nstands on a foundation of Braintree stone, above which is a \ncourse of dressed red sandstone with a belt of the same material \nbetween the stories. It is composed of a central building with a \npediment at either front, to which are joined two wings of equal \nheight and length, each having a pediment at the end. There \nare but two stories, the lower tier of windows being arched, \nand the whole structure surmounted by a cupola. It was \nin the Philosophy Eoom of Harvard that Washington was \nreceived in 1789, and after breakfasting inspected the library, \nmuseum, &c. \n\nThe three buildings which we have described are those seen \nby Captain Goelet in 1750.* He says : — \n\n\" After dinner Mr. Jacob Wendell, Abraham Wendell, and seK \ntook horse and went to see Cambridge, which is a neat, pleasant \n■vdllage, and consists of about an hundred houses and three Col- \nleges, which are a plain old fabrick of no manner of architect, and \nthe present much out of repair, is situated on one side of the Towne \nand forms a large Square ; its apartments are pretty large. Drank a \nglass wine with the collegians, returned and stopt at Richardson's \nwhere bought some fowles and came home in the evening which we \nspent at Wetherhead's T\\dth sundry gentlemen.\" \n\nHollis and the second Stoughton Hall, both standing to the \nnorth of Harvard, are in the same style of architecture. The \nfirst, named for Thomas Hollis, was begun in 1762 and com- \npleted in 1763. It was set on fire when Old Harvard was \nconsumed, and w^as struck by lightnmg in 1768. Thomas \nDawes was the architect. Stoughton was built during the \nyears 1804, 1805. They have each four stories, and are exceed- \ningly plain \" old fabrics \" of red brick. Standing in front of \nthe interval between these is Holden Chapel, built in 1745 at \n\n* N. E. Hist, and Gen. Register, \n\n\n230 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe cost of the widow and daughters of Samuel Holden, one 61 \nthe directors of the Bank of England. It was first used for the \nCollege devotions, subsequently for the American courts-martial, \nand afterwards for anatomical lectures and dissections. It be- \ncame in 1800 devoted to lecture and recitation rooms for the \nprofessors and tutors. Holworthy Hall, which stands at right \nangles with Stoughton, was erected in 1812. Besides the five \nbrick edifices standing in 1800, was also what was then called \nthe College House, a three-story wooden building, standing \nwithout the College yard, containing twelve rooms with studies. \nIt was originally built in 1770 for a private dwelling, and pur- \nchased soon after by the College corporation. University Hall, \nbuUt ia 1812-13 of Chelmsford granite, is placed upon the \nsite of the old Bog Pond and within the Hmits of the Wiggles- \nworth Ox Pasture. This building had once a narrow escape \nfrom being blown up by the students, the explosion being \nheard at a great distance. A httle southeast of HoUis is the \nsupposed site of the Indian college. \n\nIt does not fall within our purpose to recite the history of \nthe more modern buildings grouped around the interior quad- \nrangle, with its magnificent elms and shady walks ; its elegant \nand lofty dormitories, and its classic lore. Our business is \nwith the old fabrics, the ancient pastimes and antiquated cus- \ntoms of former generations of Senior and Junior, Sophomore \nand Freshman. \n\nIt was a warm spring afternoon when we stood ■within the \nquadrangle and slaked our thirst at the wooden pump. A \nlonging to throw one's self upon the grass under one of those \ninviting trees was rudely repelled by the painted admonition, \nmet at every turn, to \" Keep off the Grass.\" The government \ndoes not waste words; it orders, and its regulations assimilate \nto those of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not. Never- \ntheless, a few benches would not seem out of place here, when \nwe recall how the sages of Greece instructed their disciples as \nthey walked or while seated under some shady bough, as Soc- \nrates is described by Plato. \n\nLooking up at the open windows of the dormitories, we saw \n\n\n232 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthat not a few were garnished with booted or slippered feet. \nThis seemed the favorite attitude for study, by which knowl- \nedge, absorbed at the pedal extremities, is conducted by the \ninclined plane of the legs to the body, finally mounting as high \nas its source, siphon-like, to the brain. Any movement by which \nthe feet might be lowered during this process would, we are \npersuaded, cause the hardly gained learning to flow bade again \nto the feet. Others of the students were squatted in Indian \nfashion, their elbows on their knees, their chins resting in their \npalms, with knitted brows and eyes fixed on vacancy, in which, \ndid we possess the conjurer's art, the coming University boat- \nrace or the last base-ball tournament would, we fancy, appear \ninstead of Latm classics. Perhaps we have not rightly inter- \npreted the expressions of others, wliich seemed to say, in the \nlanguage of one whose brain was stretched upon the same rack \na century and a quarter ago : — \n\n'•' Now algebra, geometry, \nArithmetick, astronomj'-, \nOpticks, chronology and staticks. \nAll tiresome parts of mathematics, \nWith twenty harder names than these, \nDisturb my brains and brealc my peace.\" \n\nIt was formerly tlie practice of the Sophomores to notify the \nFreshmen to assemble in the Chapel, where they were indoc- \ntrinated in the ancient customs of the College, the latter being \nrequired \" to keep their places in their seats, and attend with \ndecency to the reading.\" Among these customs, descended \nfrom remote times, was one which forbade a Freshman \"to \nwear his hat in the College yard, unless it rains, hails, or snows, \nproAdded he be on foot, and have not both hands full.\" The \nsame prohibition extended to all undergraduates when any of \nthe governors of the College were in the yard. Tliese absurd \n\"relics of barbarism\" had become entirely obsolete before 1800. \n\nThe degrading custom Mdiich made a Freshman subservient \nto all other classes, and obliged him to go of errands like a pot- \nboy in an alehouse, the Senior having the prior claim to his \nservice, died q, natural death, without the interposition of \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 233 \n\nauthority. It became the practice under this state of things \nfor a Freshman to , choose a Senior as a patron, to wliom he \nacknowledged service, and who, on his part, rendered due pro- \ntection to his servitor from the demands of others. These petty \noffices, when not unreasonably required, could be enforced by \nan appeal to a tutor. The President and immediate govern- \nment had also their Freshmen. It is noteworthy that the \nabolition of this menial custom was recommended by the Over- \nseers as early as 1772; but the Corporation, which, doubtless, de- \nrived too many advantages from a continuance of the practice, \nrejected the proposal \n\nAnother custom obliged the Freshman to measure Ms strength \nwith the Sophomore in a wrestling-match, which usually took \nplace during the second week in the term on the College play- \nground, which formerly bounded on Charlestown road, now \nKirkland Street, and included about an acre and a half. This \nplayground was enclosed by a close board fence, which began \nabout fifty feet north of Hollis and extended back about tlu'ee \nhundred feet, separating the playground from the College \nbuildings. The playground had a front on the Common of \nabout sixty- five feet, and was entered on the side of Hollis. \n\n\" This enclosure, an irregular square, contained two thirds or more \nof the ground on which Stoughton stands, the greater part of the \nland on which Holworthy stands, together with about the same \nquantity of land in front of the same, the land back of Holworthy, \nincluding part of a road since laid out, and perhaps a very small \nportion of the western extremity of the Delta, so called.\" \n\nThis was the College gymnasia, where the students, after \nevening prayers, ran, leaped, ^vrestled, played at quoits or \ncricket, and at good, old-fashioned, obsolete bat and ball, — not \nthe dangerous pastime of to-day, but where you stood up, man- \nfashion, with nothing worse resulting than an occasional eye in \nmourning. \n\nIn the early days offending students were punished by the \nimposition of fines or whipping. Tl)ere is a record of aii order \nto this effect in the Massachusetts archives, \n\n\n2,34 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nAny account of Harvard whicli ignored the clubs would be \nincomplete. Besides the Phi Beta Kappa was the Porcellian, \nfounded by the Seniors about 1793. It was originally caUed \nthe Pig Club, but, for some unknown reason, this homely but ex- \npressive derivation was translated into a more euphonious title, \nA writer remarks that learned pigs have sometimes been on ex- \nhibition, but, to our mind, to have been educated among them \nwould be but an iU passport into good society. There was also \nthe Hasty Pudding Club, — a name significant of that savory, \nfarinaceous substance, the dish of many generations of New- \nEnglanders. Whether this society owed its origin to sumptuary \nregulations we are unable to say ; but a kettle of the article, \nsteaming hot, suspended to a pole, a:id borne by a brace of \nstudents across the College yard, were worth a visit to Old \nHarvard to have witnessed. \n\nCommencement, Neal says, was formerly a festival second \nonly to the day of the election of the magistrates, usually \ntermed \" Election Day.\" The account in \" ISTew England's \nFirst Fruits \" gives the manner of conducting the academical \nexercises in 1642 : — \n\n\"The students of the first classis that have beene these foure yeeres* \ntrained up in University learning (for their ripening in the knowl- \nedge of tongues and arts) and are approved for then- manners, as \nthey have kept their public Acts in former yeares, oui-selves being- \npresent at them ; so have they latelj^ kej^t two solemn Acts for their \nCommencement, when Governour, Magistrates and the Ministers \nfrom all parts, with all sorts of schollars, and others m great num- \nbers were present and did heare their exercises ; which were Latine \nand Greeke Orations, and Declamations, and Hebrew Analasis, \nGrammatical!, Logicall and Rhetoricall of the Psalms ; And their \nanswers and disputations in Logicall, Ethicall, Physicall, and Meta- \nphysical! questions ; and so were found worthy of the first degree \n(commonly called Bachelour pro more Academiarum m Anglia) ; \nBeing first presented by the President to the Magistrates and Minis- \nters, and by him upon their approbation, solemnly admitted unto \nthe same degree, and a booke of arts delivered into each of their \nhands, and the power given them to read Lectures in the hall upon \n\n* Fixing the founding in 1638. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAKD, CONTINUED. 235 \n\nany of the arts, when they shall he thereunto called, and a liberty \nof studying in the library.\" \n\nCommencement continued to be celebrated as a red-letter \nday, second only to the republican anniversary of the Fourth \nof July. The merry-makings under the tents and awnings \nerected within the College grounds, for the entertainment of the \nguests, who had assembled to do honor to the literary triumphs \nof their friends or relatives, were completely eclipsed by the \nsaturnalia going on without on the neighboring Common. This \nspace was covered with booths, within which the hungry and \nthirsty might find refreshment, or the unwary be initiated into \nthe mysteries of sweat-cloth, dice, or roulette. Side-shows, \nwith performing monkeys, dogs, or perhaps a tame bear, less \nsavage than his human tormentors, drew their gaping multi- \ntudes, ever in movement, from point to point. Gaming was \nfreely indulged in, and the Maine Law was not. As the day \nwaxed, the liquor began to produce its legitimate results, \nswearing and fighting taking the place of the less exciting ex- \nhibitions. The crowd surged around the scene of each pugilistic \nencounter, upsetting the booths, and vociferating encouragement \nto the combatants. The best man emerged with battered nose, \neyes swelled and inflamed, his clothes in tatters, to receive the \nplaudits of the mob and the pledge of victor}'- in another bowl \nof grog, while the vanquished sneaked away amid the jeers and \nderision of the men and the hootings of the boys. These orgies, \nsomewhat less violent at the beginning of the present century, \nwere by degrees brought -within the limits of decency, and \nfinally disappeared altogether. This was one of those \" good \nold time \" customs which we have sometimes known recalled \nwith long-drawn sigh and woful shake of the head over our \nown days of State police, lemonade, and degeneracy. During \nthe early years of the Revolution, and as late as 1778, there \nwas no public Commencement at Harvard. \n\nDress was a matter to which students gave little heed at the \nbeginning of the century. The College laws required them to \nwear coats of blue-gray, with gowns as a substitute, in warm \nweather, — except on public occasions, when black go-wns were \n\n\n236 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\npermitted. Little does your spruce young undergraduate of \nto-day resemble, in this respect, his predecessor, who weut about \nthe College grounds, and even the village, attired in summer in \na loose, long gown of calico or gingham, varied in winter by \na similar garment of woollen stuff, called lambskin. With a \ncocked hat on his head, and peaked-toed shoes on his feet, your \ncollegian was not a bad counterpart of Dominie Sampson in \ndishabille, if not in learning. Knee-breeches began to be dis- \ncarded about 1800 by the young men, but were retained by a \nfew of the elders until about 1825, when pantaloons had so far \nestablished themselves that it was unusual to see small-clothes \nexcept upon the limbs of some aged relic of the old regime. \nTop-boots, wdth the yellow lining falling over, and cordovans, \nor half-boots, made of elastic leather, fitting itself to the shape \nof the leg, belonged to the time of which we are Avriting. The \ntendency, it must be admitted, has been towards improvement, \nand the present generation fully comprehends how \n\n\" Braid claith lends fouk an unca heeze ; \nMaks mony kail-worms butterflees ; \nGies mony a doctor his degrees, \nFor little slcaith ; \nIn short you may be what you please, \nW'i guid braid claith.\" \n\nAn example of the merits of dress was somewhat ludicrously \npresented by a colloquy between two Harvard men who arrived \nat eminence, and who were as wide apart as the poles in their \nattention to personal appearance. Theophilus Parsons was a \nman very neghgent of his outward seeming, while Harrison \nGray Otis was noted for his fine linen and regard for his apparel. \nThe elegant Otis, having to cross-examine a witness in court \nwhose appearance was slovenly in the extreme, commented \nupon the man's filthy exterior with severity, and spoke of liim \nas a \" dirty fellow,\" because he had on a dirty shirt. Parsons, \nwhose witness it was, objected to the badgering of Otis. \n\n\" Wliy,\" said Otis, turning to Parsons, with ill-concealed \nirony, \" how many shirts a week do you wear. Brother Par- \nsons 1. \" \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAKD, CONTINUED. 237 \n\n\" I wear one shirt a week,\" was the reply. \" How many do \nyou wear ? \" \n\n\" I change my shirt every day, and sometimes oftener,\" said \nOtis. \n\n\" \"Well,\" retorted Parsons, \" you must be a ' dirty fellow ' to \nsoil seven shirts a week when I do but one.\" \n\nThere was a sensation in the court-room, and Mr. Otis sat \ndown with his plumage a little ruffled. \n\n\" For though you had as wise a snout on, \nAs Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton, \nYour judgment fouk would hae a doubt on, \n\nI '11 talc my aith, \nTill they would see ye wi' a suit on \n\n0' guid braid claith. \" \n\nThe silken \" Oxford Caps,\" formerly worn in public by the \ncollegians, are well remembered. These were abandoned, in \npublic places, through the force of circumstances alone, as they \ndrew attentions of no agreeable nature upon the wearer when \nhe wandered from the protecting segis of his Alma Mater. In \nthe neighboring city, should his steps unfortunately tend thither, \nthe sight of his headpiece at once aroused the war-cries of the \nclans of Cambridge Street and the West End. \" An Oxford \nCap ! an Oxford Cap ! \" reverberated through the dirty lanes, \nand was answered by the instant muster of an ill-omened rabble \nof sans-culoites. Stones, mud, and unsavory eggs were showered \nupon the wretched \" Soph,\" whose conduct on these occasions \njustified the derivation of his College title. Sometimes he stood \nhis ground to be pummelled until within an inch of taking his \ndegree in another world, and finally to see his silken helmet \nborne off in triumph at the end of a broomstick ; generally, \nhowever, he obeyed the dictates of discretion and took incon- \ntinently to his heels. At sight of these ugly black bonnets, \nworthy a familiar of the Inquisition, the whole neighborhood \nseemed stirred to its centre with a frenzy only to be assuaged \nwhen the student doffed his obnoxious casque or fled across the \nhostile border. \n\nThe collegians, with a commendable esprit du corjJs, and a \n\n\n238 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nvalor worthy ca better cause, clung to their caps with a chivalric \ndevotion born alone of persecution. They learned to visit the \ncity in bands instead of singly, but this only brought into \naction the reserves of \" JSTigger HiU,\" and enlarged the war. \nThe North made common cause with the West, and South End \nwith both. The Harvard boys armed themselves, and some \ndangerous night-affrays took place in the streets, for wliich the \nactors were cited before the authorities. Common-sense at \nlength put an end to the disturbing cause, in which the stu- \ndents were obliged to confess the game was not worth the \ncandle. The Oxford Caps were hung on the dormitory pegs, \nand order reigned in Warsaw. \n\nIt is not designed to enumerate the many distinguished sons \nof Old Harvard whose names illuminate history. This has \nbeen done in a series of biographies from an able pen.* One \nof the first class of graduates was George Downing, who went \nto England and became Chaplain to Colonel Okey's regiment, \nin CromweU's army, — the same whom he afterwards betrayed \nin order to ingratiate himself in the favor of Charles II. He \nwas a brother-in-law of Governor Bradstreet and a good friend \nto New England. Doctor Johnson characterized him as the \n\" dog Downing.\" He was ambassador to the states of Hol- \nland, and notwithstanding his reputation, soiled by the betrayal \nof some of his republican friends to the block, was a man of \ngenius and address. No other evidence is needed to show that \nhe was a scoundrel than the record of his treatment of his \nmother, in her old age, as related by herself : — \n\n\"But I am now att ten pounde ayear for my chamber and 3 \npound for my seruants wages, and haue to extend the other tene \npound a year to accomadat for our meat and drinck ; and for my \nclothing and all other necessaries I am much to seeke, and more \nyour brother Georg will not hear of for me ; and that it is onely \ncouetonsness that maks me aske more. He last sumer bought an- \nother town, near Hatly, called Clappuni, cost him 13 or 14 thou- \nsand pound, and I really beleeue one of us 2 are couetous.\" \n\nDowning Street, London, was named for Sir George when \n\n* John L, Sibley, Librarian. \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVAED, CONTINUED. 239 \n\nthe office of Lord Treasurer was put in conimissiou (May, \n1667), and Downing College, Cambridge, England, was founded \nby a grandson of the baronet, in 1717. \n\nThe class of 1763 was in many respects a remarkable one, \nfruitful in loyalists to the mother country. Three refugee \njudges of the Supreme Court, of which number Sampson Salter \nBlowers lived to be a hundred, and, with the exception of Dr. \nHolyoke, the oldest of the Harvard alumni ; Bliss of Spring- \nfield and Upham of Brookfield, afterwards judges of the high- \nest court in 'New Brunswick ; Dr. John Jeffries, the celebrated \nsurgeon of Boston, and others of less note. On the Whig side \nwere Colonel Timothy Pickering, General Jedediah Hunting- \nton, who pronounced the first English oration ever delivered at \nCommencement, and Hon. Nathan Cushing. \n\nBenjamin Pratt, afterwards Chief Justice of ISTew York under \nthe crown, was a graduate of 1737. He had been bred a me- \nchanic, but, having met with a serious injury that disabled him \nfrom pursuing his trade, turned his attention to study. Gov- \nernors Belcher, Hutchinson, Dummer, Spencer Phips, Bowdoin, \nStrong, Gerry, Eustis, Everett, T. L. Winthrop, the two Presi- \ndents Adams and the Governor of that name, are of those Avho \nhave been distinguished in high political positions. The names \nof those who have become eminent in law, medicine, and divin- \nity would make too formidable a catalogue for our limits. \n\nThe Marquis Chastellux, -miting in 1782, says : — \n\n\" I must here repeat, what I have observed elsewhere, that in \ncomparing our universities and our studies in general with those of \nthe Americans, it would not be to our interest to call for a decision \nof the question, which of the two nations should be considered an \ninfant people.\" \n\nA University education, upon Avhich, perhaps, too great \nstress is laid by a few narrow minds who would found an \naristocracy of learning in the repubUc of letters, is unquestion- \nably of great advantage, though not absolutely essential to a \nsuccessful public career. It is a passport which smooths the \nway, if it does not guarantee superiority. Perhaps it has a \n\n\n240 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. ■■ \n\ntendency to a clannisLness which has but little sympathy with \nthose whose acquirements have been gained while sternly \nlighting the battle of life in the pursuit of a livelihood. \nThrough its means many have achieved honor and distinction, \nwhile not a few have arrived at the goal without it. Frankhn, \nEumford, Eittenhouse, and William Wirt are examples of so- \ncalled self-made men which it would be needless to multiply. \nEven in England the proportion of collegians in public life is \nsmall. Twenty-five years ago Lord Lyndhurst said in a speech \nthat, when he began his political career a majority of the House \nof Commons had received a University education, while at the \ntime of which he was spealdng not more than one fifth had \nbeen so educated. The practice which prevails in our country, \nespecially at the West, of distinguishing every country semi- \nnary with tlie name of college, is deserving of unqualified \nreprobation. \n\nIt would be curious to trace the antecedents of the posses- \nsors of some of the great names in history. Columbus was \na weaver ; Sixtus V. kept swine ; Ferguson and Burns were \nshepherds ; Defoe was a hosier's apprentice ; Hogarth, an en- \ngraver of pewter pots ; Ben Jonson was a brick-layer ; Cer- \nvantes was a common soldier ; Halley was the son of a soap- \nboiler ; Arkwright was a barber, and Belzoni the son of a bar- \nber ; Canova was the son of a stone-cutter, and Shakespeare \n/commenced life as a menial. \n\nThe historic associations of Harvard are many and interest- \ning. The buildings have frequently been used by the legislative \nbranches of the provincial government. In 1729 the General \nCourt sat here, having been adjourned from Salem by Governor \nBurnet, in August. Again in the stormy times of 1770 the \nCourt was prorogued by Hutchinson to meet here instead of at \nits ancient seat in Boston. Wagers were laid at great odds \nthat the Assembly would not proceed to do business, considering \nthemselves as under restraint. They, however, opened their \nsession under protest, by a vote of 59 j^eas to 29 nays. Urgent \npublic business gave the Governor a triumph, which was ren- \ndered as empty as possible by every annoyance the members in \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 241 \n\ntheii\" ingenuity could invent. The preceding May the election \nof councillors had been held in Cambridge, conformably to \nGovernor Hutchinson's orders, but contrary to the charter and \nthe sense of the whole province. This was done to prevent \nany popular -demonstration in Boston, but the patriotic party \ncelebrated the day there, and their friends flocked into town \nfrom the country as usual. An ox was roasted whole on the \nCommon and given to the populace. \n\nThe tragic events of the 5th of March, 1770, had occasioned \ngreat indignation and uneasiness, which the acquittal of Cap- \ntain Preston and his soldiers contributed to keep alive. The \nfollowing is a copy of the paper posted upon the door of Boston \nTown House (Old State House), December 13, 1770, and for \nwhich Governor Hutchinson offered a reward of a hundred \npounds lawful money, to be paid out of the public treasury. \nOtway's \" Venice Preserved \" seems to have furnished the text \nto the writer : — \n\n\" To see the suflFerings of my fellow-townsmen \nAnd own myself a man ; To see the Court \nCheat the injured people with a shew \nOf justice, which we ne'er can taste of ; \nDrive us like wrecks down the rough tide of power, \nWhile no hold is left to save us from destruction, \nAll that bear this are slaves, and we obs such, \nNot to rouse up at the great call of Nature \nAnd free the world from such domestic tyrants\" \n\nHarvard has not been free from those insurrectionary ebulli- \ntions common to universities. In most instances they have \noriginated in Commons Hall ; the gi'ievances of the stomach, \nif not promptly redressed, leading to direful residts. Sydney \nSmith once remarked, that \" old friendships are destroyed by \ntoasted cheese, and hard salted meat has led to suicide.\" The \nstomachs of the students seem, on sundry occasions, to have \nbeen no less sensitive. \n\nIn 1674 all the scholars, except three or four whose friends \nlived in Cambridge, left the College. In the State archives \nexists a curious document relative to a difficulty about com- \nmons at an early period in the history of the College. It is the \n11 p \n\n\n242 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nconfession of Nathaniel Eaton and wife, who were cited befoi^e \nthe General Court for misdemeanors in providing diet for the \nstudents. In Mrs. Eaton's confession the following passage \noccurs : — \n\n\" And for bad fish, that they had it broiight to table, I am sorry- \nthere was that cause of offence given them. I acknowledge my sin \nin it. And for theu\" mackerel, brought to them with their guts in \nthem, and goat's dung in their hasty pudding, its utterly unknown \nto me ; but I am much ashamed it should be in the family and not \nprevented by myself or servants and I humlaly acknowledge my \nnegligence in it.\" \n\nThe affair of the resignation of Dr. Langdon has been men- \ntioned. In 1807 there was a general revolt of all the classes \nagainst their commons, which brought the affairs of the College \nnearly to a stand for about a montli. The classes, having en \nmasse refused to attend commons, were considered in the light \nof outlaws by the government, and were obliged to subscribe to \na form of apology dictated by it to obtain readmission. Many \nrefused to sign a confession a little humiliating, and left the \nCollege ; but the greater number of the prodigals accepted the \nalternative, though we do not learn that any fatted calf was \nkilled to celebrate the return of harmony. This was during \nDr. Webber's presidency. \n\nThe students have ever been imbued with strong patriotic \nfeelings. In 1768 the Seniors unanimously agreed to take their \ndegrees at Commencement dressed in black cloth of the manu- \nfacture of the country. In 1812 they proceeded in a body to \nwork on the forts in Boston harbor. In the great Eebellion the \nnames of Harvard's sons are inscribed among the heroic, living \nor dead for their country. \n\nThe seal of Harvard was \" adopted at the first meeting of the \ngovernors of the College after the first charter was obtained. \nOn the 27th of December, 1643, a College seal was adopted, \nhaving, as at present, three open books on the field of an \nheraldic shield, with the motto Veritas inscribed.\" This, says \nMr. Quincy, is the only seal which has the sanction of any \nrecord. The first seal actually used had the motto \"/w Christi \n\n\nA DAY AT HARVARD, CONTINUED. 243 \n\nGloriam,\" which conveys the idea of a school of theology, and \nis indirectly sanctioned by the later motto, Christo et Ecclesiw. \n\nThe Americans threw up works on the College green in \n1775, which were probably among the earliest erected by the \nColony forces. They were begun in May, and extended towards \nthe river. An aged resident of Cambridge informed the writer \nthat a fort had existed in what is now Holyoke Place, leading \nfrom Mount Auburn Street, — a point which may be assumed \nto indicate the right flank of the first position. The lines in \nthe vicinity of the CoUege were carefully effaced, some few \ntraces being remarked in 1824. They were, in all probability, \nhastily planned, and soon abandoned for the Dana Hill posi- \ntion, by which they were commanded. \n\nThe first official action upon fortifications which appears on \nrecord is the recommendation of a joint committee of the Com- \nmittee of Safety and the council of war — a body composed of \nthe general officers — to throw up works on CharlestoMTi road, \na redoubt on what is supposed to have been Prospect HiU to \nbe armed with 9-pounders, and a strong redoubt on Bunker \nHill to be mounted ^vith cannon. These works were proposed \non the 12th of May. The reader knows that the execution of \nthe last-named work brought on the battle on that ground. \n\nEver since Lexington the Americans looked for another sally \nof the royal forces. They expected it would be by way of \nCharlestown, and have the camps at Cambridge for its object. \nBy landing a force on Charlestown Neck, which the command \nof the water always enabled them to do, the enemy were within \na little more than two miles of headquarters, while a force \ncoming from Roxbury side must first beat Thomas's troops sta- \ntioned there, and then have a long detour of several miles be- \nfore they could reach the river, where the passage might be \nexpected to be blocked by the destruction of the bridge, and \nwould at any rate cost a severe action, under great disadvantage, \nto have forced. A landing along the Cambridge shore was im- \npracticable. It was a continuous marsh, intersected here and \nthere by a feAV farm-roads, impassable for artillery, without \nwhich the king's troops would not have moved. The Lexing- \n\n\n244 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nton expedition forced its way through these marshes with \ninfinite difficulty. The Enghsh commander might land his \ntroops at Ten Hills, as had already been done ; but to prevent \nthis was the object of the possession of Bunker Hill. He was \ntherefore reduced to the choice of the two great highways lead- \ning into Boston, with the advantages greatly in favor of that \nwhich passed on the side of Charlestown. \n\nThe advanced post of the Americans on old Charlestown \nroad, which was meant to secure the camp on this side, \nwas near the point where it is now intersected by Beacon \nStreet. It was distant about live eighths of a mile from Cam- \nbridge Common. The road, which has here been straightened, \nformerly curved towards the north, crossing the head of the \nwest fork of Willis Creek (Miller's Eiver), by what was called \nPillon Bridge. The road also passed over the east branch of \nthe same stream near the present crossing of the Fitchburg \nRailway, where nothing now appears to indicate its vicinity. \nThe works at Pillon Bridge were on each side of the road; that \non the north running up the declivity of the hill now crossed \nby Park Street, and occupying a commanding site. The ex- \nistence of a watercourse here might long be traced in the vener- \nable willows which once skirted its banks, and even by the dry \nbed of tlie stream itself. The bridge, according to appearances, \nwas situated seventy-five or a hundred yards north of tlie pres- \nent point of junction of the two roads, now known as Wash- \nington and Beacon Streets. At the Cambridge line the former \ntakes the name of Kirkland Street. Quite near this point, at \nDane Street, a memorial tablet marks the spot where John \nWoolrich, the first settler in what is now Somerville, lived. \n\n\nCAMBKIDGE CAMP. 245 \n\n\nCHAPTER XI. \n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. \n\n\" Fatlier and I went down to camp \nAlong with Captain Gooding, \nAnd there we see the men and boys \nAs thick as hasty pudding.\" \n\nTHERE is a certain historical coincidence in the fact that \nthe armies of the ParKament in England and of the \nCongress in America were each mustered in Cambridge. Old \nCambridge, in 1642-43, was generally for the long, and the \nUniversity tried unsuccessfully to send its plate out of Oliver's \nreach. In 1775 the wealth and influence of American Cam- \nbridge were also for the king, but the University was stanch \nfor the Revolution. \n\nWe confess we should like to see, on a spot so historic as \nCambridge Common, an equestrian statue to George Washing- \nton, \"Pater, Liberator, Defensor Patricey Besides being the \nmuster-field where the American army of the Revolution had \nits being, it is consecrated by other memories. It was the \nplace of arms of the settlers of 1631, who selected it for their \nstrong fortress and intrenched camp. Within this field the \nflag of thirteen stripes was first unfolded to the air. We have \nalready had occasion to refer to the uprising of Middlesex in \n1774, when the crown servitors resident in Cambridge had their \njudicial commissions revoked in the name of the people. It \nwas also the place where George the Third's speech, sent out by \nthe \" Boston gentry,\" was committed to the flames. \n\nBefore reviewing the Continental camp, a brief retrospect of \nthe military organization of the early colonists ^tlU not be \ndeemed inappropriate. In the year 1644 the militia was or- \nganized, and the old soldier, Dudley, appointed major-general. \nEndicott was the next incumbent of tliis new office j Gibbons, \n\n\n246 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe third, had first commanded the Suffolk regiments ; Sedg- \nwick, the fourth, the Middlesex regiment. After Sedgwick \ncame Atherton, Denison, Leverett, and Gookin, who was the \nlast major-general under the old charter. These officers were \nalso styled sergeants major-general, a title borrowed from Old \nEngland. They were chosen annually by the freemen, at the \nsame time as the governor and assistants, while the other mili- \ntary officers held for life. \n\nOld Edward Johnson, describing the train-bands in Gibbons 's \ntime, says his forts were in good repair, his artillery well \nmounted and cleanly kept, half-cannon, culverins, and sakers, \nas also fieldpieces of brass, very ready for service. \n\nA soldier in 1630-40 wore a steel cap or head-piece, breast \nand back piece, buff coat, bandoleer, containing his powder, and \ncarried a matchlock. He was also armed with a long sword \nsuspended by a belt from the shoulder. In the time of Philip's \nWar the Colony forces were provided with blunderbusses and also \nwith hand-grenadoes, which were found effectual in driving the \nIndians from an ambush. A troop at this time numbered sixty \nhorse, besides the officers', all weU mounted and completely \narmed with back, breast, head-piece, buff coat, sword, carbine, . \nand pistols. Each of the twelve troops in the Colony were \ndistiuguislied by their coats. In time of war the pay of a cap- \ntain of horse was £ 6 per month ; of a captain of foot, X 4 ; of a \nprivate soldier, one shilling a day. Military punishments were \nsevere ; the strapado, or riding the wooden horse so as to bring \nthe blood, being commonly inflicted for offences one grade be- \nlow the death-penalty. The governor had the chief command, \nbut the major-generals did not take the field, their offices being \nmore for profit than for fighting. \n\nWith improved fire-arms, when battles were no more to be \n\ndecided by hand-to-hand encounters, armor gradually went out \n\nof fashion, \n\n\"Farewell, then, ancient men of might ! \nCrusader, errant-squire, and knight ! \nOur coats and customs soften ; \nTo rise would only make yon weep ; \nSleep on, in rusty iron sleep, \nAs in a safety coffin. \" \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 247 \n\nBayonets as first used in England (about 1680) had a \nwooden haft, which was inserted in the mouth of the piece, \nanswering thus the purpose of a partisan. The French, with \nwhom the weapon originated, anticipated the English in fixing \nit with a socket. A French and British regiment in one of the \nwars of William III. encountered in Flanders, where this dif- \nference in the manner of using the bayonet was near deciding \nthe day in favor of the French battalion. This weapon, once \nso important that the British infantry made it their peculiar \nboast, is now seldom used, except perhaps as a defence against \ncavalry. Some confidence it still gives to the soldier, but its \nmost important function in these days of long-range small- \narms is the splendor with which it invests the array of a bat- ' \ntaUon as it stands on parade. AYe do not know of a com- \nmander who would now order a bayonet-charge, although in \nthe early battles of the Eevolution it often turned the scale \nagainst us. \n\nAfter the battle of Lexington the Committee of Safety re- \nsolved to enlist eight thousand men for seven months. A com- \npany was to consist of one captain, one lieutenant, one ensign, \nfour sergeants, a drummer and fifer, and seventy privates. \nNine companies formed a regiment, of which the field-officers \nwere a colonel, lieutenant-colonel, and major. Each of the \nfield-officers had a company which was called his own, as \neach of the general officers, beginning with Ward himself, had \nhis regiment. The aggregate of the rank and file was, two \ndays afterward, reduced to fifty. This must be considered \nas the first organization of the army of the Thirteen Colo- \nnies, — as they afterwards adopted it as their own, — the army \nwhich fought at Bunker Hill, and opened the trenches around \nBoston. \n\nThis Common was the grand parade of the army. Here \nwere formed every morning, under supervision of the Brigadier \nof the Day, the guards for Lechmere's Point, Cobble Hill, \nWhite House, North, South, and Middle Redoubts, Lechmere's \nPoint tete du pont, and the main guards for Winter Hill, \nProspect Hill, and Cambridge. Hither were marched the de- \n\n\n248 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ntachments which assembled on their regimental parades at \neight o'clock. Arms, accoutrements, and clothing underwent \nthe scrutiny of Greene, Sullivan, or Heath. This finished, \nthe grand guard broke off into small bodies, which marched \nto their designated stations to the music of the fife and \ndrum. \n\nWe may here mention that the \" ear-piercing fife \" was in- \ntroduced into tlie British army after the campaign of Flanders \nin 1748. This instrument was first adopted by the Royal \nRegiment of Artillery, the musicians receiving their instruction \nfrom John Ulrich, a Hanoverian fifer, brought from Flanders \nby Colonel Belford -when the allied army separated. Nothing \nputs life into the soldier like this noisy little reed. You shall \nsee a band of weary, footsore men, after a long march, fall into \nstep, close up their ranks, and move on, a serried phalanx, at \nthe scream of the fife. \n\nFortunate indeed was he who witnessed this old-fashioned \nguard-mount, where the first efforts to range in order the non- \ndescript battalia must have filled the few old soldiers present \nwith despair. There was no uniformity in weapons, dress, or \nequipment, and until the arrival of Washington not an epau- \nlette in camp. The officers could not have been picked out of \nthe line for any insignia of rank or superiority of attire over \nthe common soldiers. Some, perhaps, had been fortunate \nenough to secure a gorget, a sword, or espontoon, but all car- \nried their trusty fusees. All that went to make up the outward \npomp of the soldier was wanting. Compared with the scarlet \nuniforms, burnished arms, and compact files of the troops to \nwhom they were opposed, our own poor fellows were the veriest \nragamuffins ; but the contrast in this was not more striking \nthan were the different motives with which each combated : \nthe Briton fought the battle of his king, the American soldier \nhis own. \n\nThe curse of the American army was in the short enlistments. \nMen were taken for two, three, and six months, and scarcely \narrived in camp before they infected it with that dangerous dis- \nease, homesickness. The same experience awaited the nation in \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 249 \n\nthe great civil Avar. In truth, if history is philosophy teaching \nby example, we make little progress in forming armies out of \nthe crude material. \n\nIf the Americans were so contemptible in infantry, they were \neven more so in artillery, — as for cavalry, it was a thing as \nyet unknown in an army in which many field-officers could not \nobtain a mount. The enemy was weU supplied with field and \nsiege pieces, abimdant supplies of which had been sent out, \nwhile the reserves of the Castle and fleet were drawn upon \nas circumstances demanded. The unenterprising spirit of the \nBritish commander rendered all this disparity much less alarm- \ning than it would have been with a Carleton or CornwaUis, \ninstead of a Gage or Howe. Aii eyewitness relates that \n\n\" The British appeared so inoffensive that the Americans enjoyed \nat Cambridge the conviviality of the season. The ladies of the prin- \ncipal American officers repaired to the camp. Civihty and mutual \nforbearance appeared between the officers of the royal and conti- \nnental armies, and a frequent interchange of flags was indulged for \nthe gratification of the different partisans.\" \n\nThe earliest arrangement of this chrysalis of an army was \nabout as follows. The regiments were encamped in tents as \nfast as possible, but as this supply soon gave out, old sails, con- \ntributed by the seaport towns, were issued as a substitute. \nPatterson's, Whitcomb's, Doolittle's, and Gridley's pitched their \ntents, and were soon joined under canvas by Glover. Nixon's \nlay on Charlestown road ; a part of the regiment in Mr. Fox- \ncroft's barn. The houses were at first used chiefly as hospitals \nfor the sick. Patterson's hospital was in Andrew Boardman's \nhouse, near his encampment ; Gridley's, in Mr. Robshaw's. \nSheriff Phip's house was hospital No. 2, over which Dr. Duns- \nmore presided. Drs. John Warren, Isaac Rand, \"William Eustis, \nJames Thacher, Isaac Foster, and others officiated in the hospi- \ntals, under the chief direction of Dr. Chiirch. John Pigeon \nwas commissary-general to the forces. \n\nWe are able to give an exact return of all the regiments in \nCambridge on the^ 10th of July, 1775, with the number of men \nin each : — \n\nII * \n\n\n250 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nJonathan Ward, \n\n505. \n\nJames Scammon, \n\n529. \n\nWilliam Prescott, \n\n487. \n\nThomas Gardner, \n\n334. \n\nAsa Whitcomb, \n\n571. \n\nJonathan Brewer, \n\n373, \n\nEjjhraim Doolittle, \n\n351. \n\nB. Ruggles Woodbridge, \n\n343. \n\nJames Fry, \n\n473. \n\nPaul Dudley Sargeant, \n\n192. \n\nRichard Gridley, \n\n445. \n\nSamuel Gerrish, \n\n258. \n\nJohn Nixon, \n\n482. \n\nJohn Mansfield, \n\n507. \n\nJohn Glover, \n\n519. \n\nEdmund Phinney, \n\n163, \n\nJohn Patterson, \n\n492. \n\nMoses Little, \n\n543, \n\nEbenezer Bridge, \n\n509. \n\nTwo companies of Bond's and two of Gerrish's were at Med- \nford. Maiden, and Chelsea. Phinney had only three companies \nin camp. This seems to have been before the troops were \narranged in grand divisions and neAvly brigaded by Washing- \nton. The aggregate of the troops in Cambridge presented by \nthe above return was 8,076, of which probably not many in \nexcess of six thousand were for duty. Under the new arrange- \nment of forces Scammon's was ordered to No. 1 and the redoubt \non the flank of No. 2, Heath's to No. 2, Patterson to No. 3, \nand Prescott to Sewall's Point. On the 10th of Janiiary, 1 776, \nwhen the returns of the whole army only amounted to 8,212 \nmen, but 5,582 were returned fit for duty. \n\nGridley calls for fascines, gabions, pickets, etc., for the bat- \nteries, and makes requisitions for the service of a siege-train. \nThe artillery, such as it was, but lately dragged from places of \nconcealment, was without carriages, horses, or harness. There \nwere no intrenching tools except such as could be obtained of \nprivate persons, no furnaces for casting shot, — no anything \nbut pluck and resolution, and of that there was enough and to \nspare. \n\n. Armorers were set to work repairing the men's firelocks. \nKnox, Eurbeck, Crane, Mason, and Crafts mounted the artil- \nlery. Sailmakers were employed making tents, carpenters to \nbuild barracks, and shoemakers and tailors as fast as they \ncould be obtained, — the former in making shoes, cartouch- \nboxes, etc., the latter in clothing the soldiers. Shipwrights \nwere building bateaux on the river. In this condition of ac- \n\n\nCAMBKIDGE CAMP. 251 \n\ntivifcy and chaos Washington found his army, and realized, per- \nhaps for the first time, tlie magnitude of the work before him. \nFrom the Mystic to the Charles and from the Charles to the \nsea the air echoed to the sound of the hammer or the blows of \nthe axe, the crash of falling trees or the word of command. \nAnother Carthage might have been rebuilding by another \nCaesar, and the ground trembled beneath the tread of armed \nmen. \n\nImagine such an army, without artillery or effective small- \narms, without magazines or discipline, and unable to execute \nthe smallest tactical manoeuvre should their lines be forced at \nany point, laying siege to a town containing ten thousand \ntroops, the first in the world. It was, moreover, without a flag \nor a commander having absolute authority until Washington \ncame. \n\nPictiu'e to yourself a grimy figure behind a rank of gabions, \nhis head wrapped in an old bandanna, a short pipe between his \nteeth, stripped of his upper garments, his lower limbs encased \nin leather breeches, yarn stockings, and hob-nailed shoes, indus- \ntriously plying mattock or spade, and your provincial soldier \nof '75 stands before you. Multiply him by ten thousand, and \nyou have the provincial army. \n\nIt is certain that no common flag had been adopted by any \nauthority up to February, 1776, though the flag of thirteen \nstripes had been displayed in January. The folloAving extract \nfrom a regimental order book will answer the oft-repeated in- \nquiry as to whether the contingents from the diff\"erent Colonies \nfought under the same flag in 1775 : — \n\n\" Head Quarters 20th February 1776. \n\" Parole Manchester : Countersign Boyle. \n\n\" As it is necessary that every regiment should be furnished with \ncolours and that those colours bear some kind of similitude to the \nregiment to which they belong, the colonels with their respective \nBrigadiers and with the Q. M. G. may fix upon any such as are \nproper and can be procured. There must be for each regiment the \nstandard for regimental colours and colours for each grand di\\dsion, \nthe whole to be small and light. The number of the regiment is to \n\n\n252 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbe marked on the colours and such a motto as the colonels may \nchoose, in fixing upon which the general advises a consultation \namong them. The colonels are to delay no time in getting the mat- \nter fix'd that the Q. M. General may provide the colours for them as \nsoon as possible. G? Washington.\" \n\nWashington's first requisition on arriving in camp was for \none hundred axes and bunting for colors. At the battle of \nLong Island, fought August, 1776, a regimental color of red \ndamask, having only the word \" Liberty \" on the field, was \ncaptured by the British. As late as Monmouth there were no \ndistinctive colors. \n\nThe whipping-post, where minor offences against military law \nwere expiated, was to be met with in every camp. The prison- \ners received the sentence of the court-martial on their naked \nbacks; from twenty to forty lashes (the limit of the Jewish \nlaw) with a cat-o'-nine-tails being the usual punishment. This \nbarbarous custom, inherited from the English service, was long \nretained in the American army. Its disuse in the navy is too \nrecent to need special mention. Incorrigible offenders were \ndrummed out of camp ; but though there are instances of the \ndeath-penalty having been adjudged by courts- martial, there is \nnot a recorded case of miUtary execution in the American army \nduring the whole siege. \n\nThe men in general were healthy, — much more so in Rox- \nbury than in Cambridge, and Thomas had the credit of keep- \ning his camps in excellent order. In July, 1776, a company \nof ship carpenters was raised and sent to General Schuyler at \nAlbany for ser\\'ice on the lakes. A company of bread-bakers \nwas another feature of our camp. \n\nThe troops did not pile or stack their arms. They had few \nbayonets. The custom was to rest the guns upon wooden \nhorses made for the purpose. In wet weather they were taken \ninto the tents or quarters. We have dwelt upon details that \nmay appear trivial, unless the reconstruction of the Continental \ncamps, with fidelity in all things, and dedicated in all honor to \nthe patriot army, be our sufficient warrant. \n\nPope Day, the anniversary of Guy Fawkes's abortive plot \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 253 \n\n(November 5, 1605), had long been observed in the Colonies. \nIt was proposed to celebrate it in the American camp on the \n., return of the day in 1775, but General Washington character- \nized it as a ridiculous and childish custom, and expressed his \nsurprise that there should be officers and men in the army so \nvoid of common-sense as not to see its impropriety at a time \n•when the Colonies were endeavoring to bring Canada into \nan alliance with themselves against the common enemy. The \nGeneral argued that the Canadians, who were largely Catholic, \nwould feel their religion insulted. The British, on the con- \ntrary, celebrated the day ■with salvos of artillery. As the crisis \nof the siege approached, Washington sternly forbade aU games \nof chance. \n\nThe glorious evening in June came, when the dark clusters \nof men gathered on the greensward for Breed's Hill. Silently \nthey stood while Dr. Langdon knelt on the threshold of yonder \nhouse and prayed for their good speed. The men tighten their \nbelts and feel if their flints are firmly fixed. Their faces we \ncannot see, but we warrant their teeth are shut hard, and a \nstrange light, the gleam of battle, is in their eyes. A nocturnal \nmarch, with Qonfiict at the end of it, \"will try the nerves of the \nstoutest soldier. What will it then do for men who have yet \nto fire a shot in anger 1 They whisper together, and we know \nwhat they say, — \n\n\"To-morrow, comrade, we \nOn the battle plain must be, \nThere to conquer or both lie low ! \" \n\n(' \n\nSome one who has fairly judged of the raw recruit in general \ndoubts if the Americans reserved their fire at Bunker HiU. \nThe answer is conclusive. As the enemy marched to the attack \na few scattering shots were fired at them, soon checked by the \nleaders. This is the testimony of both sides, and is, in this \ncase, perhaps, exceptional. But the best answer is in the \nenemy's frightful list of casualties, — a thousand and more \nmen are not placed hors du combat in less than two hours by \nindiscriminate popping. \n\nThe first attempts at uniforming the Continentals were any- \n\n\n254 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthing but successful, the absence of cloth, except the homespun \nof the country, rendering it impracticable. Chester's company, \nwhich was clothed in blue turned up with red, is the only one \nin uniform at the battle of Bunker Hill of which we have any \naccount. In Edmund Phinney's regiment, stationed in Boston \nafter the departure of the English, the men were supplied with \ncoats and double-breasted jackets of undyed cloth, just as it \ncame from the looms, turned up with buif facings. They had \nalso blue breeches, felt hats with narrow brims and white bind- \ning. Another regiment, being raised in the same town, wore \nblack faced with red. The motto on tlie button was, \" Iniviica \nTyrannis\" above a hand with a naked sword. During this \nyear (1776) homespun or other coats, brown or any other color, \nmade large and fuU-lapelled, with facings of the same or of \nwhite, cloth jackets without sleeves, cloth or leather breeches, \nlarge felt hats, and yarn stockings of aU colors, were purchased \nby the Continental agents. Smallwood's Maryland regiment \nwas clothed in red, but Washington eventually prohibited this \ncolor, for obvious reasons. In November, 1776, Paul Jones \ncaptured an armed vessel, which had on board ten thousand \ncomplete sets of uniform, destined for the troops in Canada \nunder Carleton and Burgoyne. The American levies in the \nBritish service were first attired in green, which they finally \nand with heavy hearts exchanged for red, as a prelude to their \nbeing drafted into British regiments. \n\nThe term \" Continent \" was appHed to the thirteen Colonies \nearly in 1776, to distinguish their government from that of \nthe Provinces, and hence the name Continental, as applied to \nthe army of their adoption. \n\nThe surroundings of Cambridge Common invite our attention, \nand of these the old gambrel-roof house, formerly standing \non what is now Holmes Place, naturally claims precedence. \nTo the present generation it was known as the birthplace of \nour Autocrat of the Breakfast-table, our songster in many keys, \never welcome in any guise, whether humorous, pathetic, or \neven a little satirical withal. It was a good house to be born \nin, and does honor to the poet's choice, as his bouquet of \n\n\n0 \n\n3 \n\n\nWENDELL. \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 255 \n\nfragrant memories, culled for the readers of the \" Atlantic,\" \ndoes honor to the poet's self. It is certainly no disadvantage \nto have first drawn breath in a house which \nwas the original headquarters of the Ameri- \ncan army of the Revolution, and in which \nthe battle of Bunker Hill was planned and \nordered. The old house was pleasant to look \nat, though built originally for nothing more \npretending than a farm-house. It had a \nthoroughly sturdy and honest look, like its \nold neighbor, the President's house, and in \nnothing except its yellow and white paint \ndid it seem to counterfeit the royalist man- \nsions of Tory Row. The Professor tells us it once had a row \nof Lombardy poplars on the west, but now not a single speci- \nmen of the tree can be found of the many that once stood \nstiffly up at intervals around the Common. The building \nfronted the south, with the College edifices of its own time \ndrawn up in ugly array before it. Beyond, in unobstructed \nview, are the Sqviare, the church with its lofty steeple, and its \nAnglican neighbor of the lowlier tower, where, — \n\n\" Like sentinel and mm they keep \nTheir vigil on the green; \nOne seems to guard and one to weep \nThe dead that lie between.\" \n\nThe west windows overlooked the Common, with its beautiful \nmonument in its midst, and bordered by other houses with \nwalls as familiar to the scenes of a hundred years ago as are \nthose of our present subject. \"Were we to indulge our fancy, \nwe might as easily invest these old houses with the gift of \n^dsion through their many glassy eyes, as to give ears to their \nwalls ; we might imagine their looks of recognition, doubtful of \ntheir own identity, amid the changes which time has wrought \nin their vicinage. \n\nIt is at least a singular chance that fixed the homes of Long- \nfellow, Holmes, Lowell, Hawthorne, and Everett in houses of \ngreater or less historic celebrity ; but it is not merely a coinci- \n\n\n256 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ndence that has given these authors a decided preference for his- \ntorical subjects. All are students of history ; all either are or \nhave been valued members of our historical societies. Evan- \ngeline, The Scarlet Letter, and Old Ironsides are pledges that \nthe more striking subjects have not escaped them. \n\nIn the roll of proprietors of the old gambrel-roof house, which \nDr. Holmes supposed to be about one hundred and fifty years \nold, but which, we believe, was even more ancient, the first to \nappear is Jabez Fox, described as a tailor, of Boston, to Avhom \nthe estate was allotted in 1707, and whose heirs sold it to \nFarmer Jonathan Hastings thirty years later, with the foiir \nacres of land pertaining to the messuage. \n\nThe first Jonathan Hastings is the same to whom Gordon \nattributes the origin of the word \" yankee.\" He says : — \n\n\" It was a cant, favorite word with Farmer Jonathan Hastings of \nCambridge about 1713. Two aged ministers who were at the College \nin that town have told me they remembered it to have been then \nin use among the students, but had no recollection of it before that \nperiod. The inventor used it to express excellency. A Yankee \ngood horse, or Yankee good cider, and the like, were an excellent \ngood horse and excellent cider. The students used to hire horses of \nhim, and the use of the term upon all occasions led them to adopt \nit, and they gave him the name of Yankee Jon.\" \n\nGordon supposes that the students, upon leaving College, \ncirculated the name through the country, as the phrase \" Hob- \nson's choice \" was established by the students at Cambridge, in \nOld England, though the latter derivation is disputed by Mr. \nKer, who calls it \" a Cambridge hoax.\" \n\nThe second Jonathan Hastings, long the College Steward, \nwas born in 1708, gTaduated at Harvard in 1730, and died in \n1783, aged seventy-five. It was during his occupancy that the \nhouse acquired its paramount importance. He was appointed \npostmaster of Cambridge in July, 1775, as the successor of \nJames Winthrop ; and his son Jonathan, who graduated at \nHarvard in 1768, was afterwards postmaster of Boston. Walter \nHastings, also of this family, was a surgeon of the 27th regi- \nment of foot (American), from Chelmsford, at the battle of \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. ■ 257 \n\nBunker Hill, and rendered efficient service there. Walter \nHastings, of Boston, had a pair of gold sleeve-buttons worn by \nhis grandsire on that day. His father, Walter Hastings, com- \nmanded Fort Warren, now Fort Winthrop, in 1812. \n\nAs early as April 24, 1775, and perhaps immediately after \nthe battle of Lexington, the Committee of Safety established \nthemselves in this house, and here were concerted all those \nmeasures for the organization of the army created by the Provin- \ncial Congress. It was here Captain Benedict Arnold repo'rted \non the 29th of April with a company from Connecticut, and \nmade the proposal for the attempt on Ticonderoga; prompted \nby his daring disposition. It was, without doubt, in the right- \nhand room, on the lower floor, that Arnold received his first \ncommission as colonel from the Committee, May 3, 1775, and \nhis orders to raise a force and sei^e the strong places on the \nlakes. Thus Massachusetts has the dubious honor of having \nfirst commissioned this eminent traitor, whose authority was \nsigned by another traitor, Benjamin Church, but whose treason \n■ was not then developed. \n\n'\"Tis here but yet confused : \nKnavery's plain face is never seen till used.\" \n\nArnold was the first to give information in relation to the \nnumber and calibre of the armament at Ticonderoga. \n\nAs all that relates to this somewhat too celebrated personage \nhas a certain interest, we give the substance of a private letter \nfrom a gentleman who was in Europe when General Arnold \narrived there, and whose acquaintance in diplomatic circles \nplaced him in a position to be well informed. \n\nThe revolution in England respecting the change of ministry \nwas very sndden, and supposed to have been influenced by the \nhonest representations of Lord Cornwallis relative to the im- \npracticability of reducing America, which rendered that gen- \ntleman not so welcome in England to the late Ministry as his \nbrother-passenger. General Arnold, who, from encouraging in- \nformation in favor of the conquest of America, was received \nwith open arms by the king, caressed by the ministers, and \n\n\n258 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nall imaginable attention showed him hy all people on that side \nof the question. He was introduced to the king in town, with \nwhom he had the honor of many private conferences ; and was \nseen walking with the Prince of Wales and the king's brother \nin the public gardens. The queen was so interested in favor \nof Mrs. Arnold as to desire the ladies of the court to pay much \nattention to her. On the other hand, the papers daily con- \ntained such severe strokes at Arnold as would have made \nany other man despise himself; and the then opposition, after- \nwards in power, had so little regard for him, that one day, \nhe being in the lobby of the House of Commons, a motion \nwas about to be made to have it cleared in order to get liim \nout of it, but upon the member (the Earl of Surrey) being \nassured that he would not appear there again, the motion was \nnot made. \n\nThe name of the corporal who with eight privates constituted \nthe crew of the barge in which Arnold made his escape from \nWest Point to the Vulture, was James Lurvey, of Colonel \nEufus Putnam's regiment. He is believed to have come from \nWorcester County. Arnold meanly endeavored to seduce the \ncorporal from his flag by the offer of a commission in the Brit- \nish service, but the honest fellow replied, \" No, sir ; one coat is \nenough for me to wear at a time.\" \n\nThis mansion was probably occupied by General Ward at a \ntime not far from coincident with its possession by the Commit- \ntee of Safety, but of this there is no other evidence than that \nhis frequent consultations with that body would seem to render \nit necessary. He received his commission as commander-in- \nchief of the Massachusetts forces on the 20th of May, 1775, at \nwliich time headquarters were unquestionably established here. \nIt must be borne in mind, however, that the committee exer- \ncised the supreme authority of directing all military movements, \nand that General Ward was a subordinate. \n\nThe fact that this was the Provincial headquarters has been \ndoubtfully stated from time to time, but is settled by the fol- \nlowing extract from the Provincial records, dated June 21, \n1775: — \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 259 \n\n\" Whereas, a great number of horses have been, from, time to \ntime, put into the stables and yard of Mr. Hastings, at headquarters, \nnot belonging to the Colony, the Committee of Safety, or the gen- \neral officers, their aids-de-camp, or post-riders, to the great expense \nof the public and inconvenience of the committee, generals, &c.\" \n\nGeneral Ward's principal motive for quitting the army was a \npainful disease, which prevented his mounting his horse. His \npersonal intrepidity and resolution are well illustrated by the \nfollowing incident of Shays's Rebellion. \n\nThe General was then chief justice of the court to be held in \nWorcester, September, 1786. On the morning the court was to \nopen, the Regulators, under Adam Wheeler, were in possession \nof the Court House. The judges had assembled at the house \nof Hon. Joseph Allen. At the usual hour they, together with \nthe justices of the sessions and members of the bar, moved in \nprocession to the Court House. \n\nA sentinel challenged the advance of the procession, bringing \nhis musket to the charge. General Ward sternly ordered him \nto recover his piece. The man, an old soldier of Ward's own \nregiment, awed by his manner, obeyed. Passing through the \nmultitude, which gave way in sullen silence, the cortege reached \nthe Court House steps, where were stationed a file of men with \nfixed bayonets, Wheeler, with a drawn sword, being in front. \n\nThe crier was allowed to open the doors, which, being done, \ndisplayed another party of infantry wath loaded muskets, as if \nready to fire. Judge Ward then advanced alone, and the bayo- \nnets were presented at his breast. He demanded, repeatedly, \nwho commanded the people there, and the object of these hos- \ntile acts. T\\Tieeler at length replied that they had met to \nprevent the sitting of the courts until they could obtain redress \nof grievances. The judge then desired to address the people, \nbut the leaders, who feared the effect upon their followers, re- \nfused to permit him to be heard. The drums beat and the \nguard were ordered to charge. \" The soldiers advanced until \nthe points of their bayonets pressed hard upon the breast of the \nchief justice, who stood immovable as a statue, without stirring \na Kmb or yielding an inch, although the steel, in the hands of \n\n\n260 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ndesperate men, penetrated his dress. Struck with admiration \nby his intrepidity, the guns were removed, and Judge Ward, \nascending the steps, addressed the assembly.\" \n\n\" Says sober Will, well Shays has fled, \nAnd peace returned to bless our days. \nIndeed, cries Ned, I always said, \nHe 'd prove at last a, fall back Shays.\" \n\n\"When the army first assembled under Ward, officers were \nfrequently stopped by sentinels for want of any distinguishing \nbadge of rank. This led to an order that they should wear \nribbons across the breast, — red for the highest grade, blue for \ncolonels, and other colors according to rank. \n\nIt is well known that Washington spoke of the resignation \nof General Ward, after the evacuation of Boston, in a manner \napproaching contempt. His observations, then confidentially \nmade, about some of the other generals, were not calcxilated to \nflatter their amour propre or that of their descendants. It is \nsaid that General Ward, learning long afterwards the remark \nthat had been applied to him, accompanied by a friend, waited \non his old chief at New York, and asked him if it was true that \nhe had used such language. The President replied that he did \nnot know, but that he kept copies of aU his letters, and would \ntake an early opportunity of examining them. Accordingly, at \nthe next session of Congress (of which General Ward was a \nmember), he again called with his friend, and was informed by \nthe President that he had really written as alleged. Ward then \nsaid, \" Sir, you are no gentleman\" and turning on his heel \nquitted the room. \n\nIt is certain that the seizure of Dorchester Heights was re- \nsolved upon early in May, 1775, or nearly a year before it M'-as \nfinally done by Washington. Information conveyed to the \nbesiegers from Boston made it evident that the enemy were \nmeditatiug a movement, which we now know from General \nBurgoyne was to have been first directed upon the heights of \nDorchester, and secondly upon Charlestown. \n\nOn the 9th of May, at a council of war at headquarters, the \nquestion proposed whether such part of the militia should be \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE CAMP. 261 \n\ncalled in to join the forces at Eoxbury as would be sufl&cient \nto enable them to take possession of and defend Dorchester Hill, \nas well as to maintain the camp at Roxbnry, was passed unani- \nmously in the affirmative, Samuel Osgood, Ward's major of \nbrigade, signed the record of the vote. On the 10th of May \nan order was sent to all the colonels of the array to repair to \nthe town of Cambridge, — \"as we are meditating a blow at \nour restless enemies,\" — the general officers were directed to \ncall in all the enlisted men, and none were allowed to depart \nthe camps till the further orders of Congress. \n\nFor some reason the enterprise was abandoned, but it shows \nthat both belligerents were fully conscious from the first that \nthe heights of Dorchester and Charlestown were the keys to \nBoston. Burgoyne says the descent on Dorchester was finally \nto have been executed on the 18th of June, and gives the par- \nticulars of the plan of operations, — a scheme which the in- \ntrenchment on the heights of Charlestown rendered abortive. \n\nThe next whose personality is involved with the old house \nis Joseph Warren. The account preserved in the Hastings \nfamily is, that the patriot President-general was much pleased \nwith Eebecca Hastings, who was then residing with her father, \nthe College steward. The previous day the General had pre- \nsided at the deliberations of the Congress at Watertown, where \nhe passed the night, coming down to Cambridge in the morning. \nHis steps tended most naturally to the old house where were \nhis associates of the Committee, and the commanding general. \nThere was perhaps a fan* face at the window welcoming him \nwith a smile as he, for the last time, drew up before the gate \nand alighted from his chaise. \n\nWarren, risen from a sick-bed, to which overwork and mental \nanxiety had consigned him, dressed himself with more than \nordinary care, and, silencing the remonstrances of his more \ncautious colleague, Elbridge Gerry, proceeded to the scene of \naction at Bunker Hill on foot. \n\nThe old farm-house is not yet to lose its claim as a worthy \nmemorial of the varying destinies through which our country \npassed. Washington made it his headquarters upon his arrival \n\n\n2C2 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nat camp, remainiBg in it three days, or until arrangements for \nhis permanent residence could be made. He fii'st dined at \nCambridge with General Ward and his officers, — an occasion \nwhen all restraint appears to have been oast aside in the sponta- \nneous welcome which was extended him. After dinner Adjutant \nGibbs, of Glover's, was hoisted (English fashion), chair and all, \nupon the table, and gave the company a rollicking bachelor's \nsong, calculated to make the immobile features of the chief \nrelax. It was a generous, hearty greeting of comrades in arms. \nGlasses clinked, stories were told, and the wine circulated. \nWashington was a man ; we do not question that he laughed, \ntalked, and toasted with the rest. \n\nThe headquarters being here already, it was natural for the \nGeneral to choose to remain for the present where the archives, \nstaff, and auxiliary machinery enabled him to examine the \ncondition and resources of the army he came to command. \nConsultations with General Ward were necessarily frequent. \nIt was no doubt in this house Washington penned his first \nofficial despatches. \n\nEliphalet Pearson, Professor of Hebrew and Oriental lan- \nguages, became the next inhabitant after what may be called \nthe Restoration, when the sway of warlike men gave place \non classic ground to the old reign of letters. Professor \nPearson was noted for the sternness of his orthodoxy, as ex- \nhibited in his resistance to the entrance of Rev. Henry Ware \ninto the Hollis professorsliip, and for liis opposition to Andrew \nCraigie's efforts to secure a charter for his bridge, — efforts \nexerted in both instances for the behoof of the College, though \nin widely different spheres of action. \n\nFollowing him came Rev. Abiel Holmes, pastor of the First \nChurch, early historian of Cambridge, whose ministry was \nsuspended by a revolution in his parish, which resulted in \nthe overthrow of the old and the elevation of the new. Dr. \nHolmes's widow, the daughter of Judge Oliver Wendell, con- \ntinued to live in the house some time after the decease of her \nhusband in 1837. Oliver Wendell Holmes, their son, did not \npermanently reside in the old house after he left college. \n\n\nCAMBKIDGE CAMP. . 263 \n\nThe lines to Old Ironsides, to which allusion has been made, \nwere composed in this old house when the poet was twenty \nyears old. They were written in pencil, and first printed in \nthe \" Boston Daily Advertiser.\" Genuine wrath at the pro- \nposed breaking up of the old frigate impelled the young poet's \nburning lines : — \n\n\" Aud one who listened to the tale of shame, \nWhose heart still answered to that sacred name, \nWhose eye still followed o'er his country's tides \nThy glorious flag, our brave Old Ironsides ! \nFrom yon lone attic on a summer's morn. \nThus mocked the spoilers with his school-boy scom.\" \n\n\n264 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTER XII. \n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. \n\n\" The country of our fathers ! May its spirit keep it safe and its justice \nkeep it free ! \" \n\nPURSUING our circuit of the Common, \" on hospitable \nthoughts intent,\" we ought briefly to pause before the \nwhilom abode of Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse. This house may \njustly claim to be one of the most ancient now remaining in \nCambridge, having about it the marks of great age. The strong \nfamily resemblance which the dwellings of the period to which \nthis belongs bear to each other renders a minute description of \nan individual specimen applicable to the greater number. \n\nHere are still some relics of the \" American Jenner,\" and \nsome that belonged to an even older inhabitant than he. In \none apartment is a clock surmounted by the symbolic cow. At \nthe head of the staircase, in an upper hall, is another clock, \nwith an inscription which shows it to have been presented, in \n1790, to Dr. Waterhouse, by Peter Oliver, former chief justice \nof the province. The old timekeeper requests its possessor to \nwind it on Christmas and on the 4th of July. There is also a \ncrayon portrait of the Doctor's mother, done by Allston when \nan undergraduate at Harvard. The features of Henry Ware, \nanother inhabitant of the house, look benignly down from a \ncanvas on the wall. Some other articles may have belonged to \nWilliam Vassall, who owned and occupied the house, probably \nas a summer residence, before the war. StiU another occupant \nwas the Rev. Winwood Serjeant, rector of Christ Church. \n\nDr. Waterhouse is best remembered through his labors to \nintroduce in this country vaccination, the discovery of Jenner, \nwhich encountered as large a share of ridicule and opposition as \ninoculation liad formerly experienced. Several persons are \nremembered who were vaccinated by Dr. Waterhouse. \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 265 \n\nAt one time the old barracks at Sewall's Point (Brookline) \nwere used as a small-pox hospital. This was in the day of \ninoculation, when it was the fashion to send to a friend such \nmissives as the following : — \n\n\" I wish Lucy was here to have the sniall-pox. I wish jou would \npersuade her to come here and have it. You can't thiuk how light \nthey have it.\" \n\nThe visitor will find some relics formerly kept at the State \nArsenal on Garden Street, in several pieces of artillery mounted \non sea-coast carriages and arranged within the Common. These \nguns were left in Boston by Sir William Howe, and, thanks to \nthe care of General Stone, when that gentleman was adjutant- \ngeneral of the State, were preserved from the sale of a number \nof similar trophies as old iron. As the disappearance of the \narsenal left them unprotected it is to be hoped that the State \nof Massachusetts can afford to keep these old war-dogs which \nbear the crest and cipher of Queen Anne and the Second \nGeorge. The largest of the cannon is a 32-pounder. All \nhave the broad arrow, but rust and weather have nearly \nobliterated the inscriptions impressed at the royal foundry. \nThe oldest legible date is 1687. Besides these, were two di- \nminutive mortars or cohorns. Within one of the houses were \ntwo beautiful brass field-pieces, bearing the crown and lilies of \nFrance. Each has its name on the muzzle, — one being the \nVenus and the other Le Faucon, — and on the breech the \nimprint of the royal arsenal of Strasburg, with the dates \nrespectively of 1760 and 1761. A further search revealed, \nhidden away in an obscure corner and covered with lumber, \na S])anish piece, which, when brought to light by the aid of \nsome workmen, was found literally covered with engraving, \nbeautifully executed, dehneating the Spanish Crovm and the \nmonogram of Carlos III. It is inscribed, — \n\n\"El Uenado. \n\nBarcelona J8DE \n\nDeceimbre De J767.\" \n\nInquiry of the proper officials having failed to enlighten us \n1% \n\n\n266 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nas to the possession of these cannon by the State, we conclude \nthem to be a remnant of the field artillery sent us by France \nduring the Revolution. The Spaniard, when struck with a \npiece of metal, gave out a beautifully clear, melodious ring, as \nif it contained an alloy of silver, and brought to our mind those \nold slumberers on the ramparts of Panama, into whose yet molten \nmass the common people flung their silver reals, and the old \ndons their pieces of Eight, while the priest blessed the union \nwith the baser metal and consecrated the whole to victory. \n\nWhitefield's Elm, under which that remarkable man preached \nin 1744, formerly stood on' a line with its illustrious fellow the \nWashington Elm, and not far from the turn as we pass from \nthe northerly side of the Common into Garden Street. It ob- \nstructed the way, and the axe of the spoiler was laid at its root \ntw'o years ago. \n\nDr. Chauncy and Whitefield were not the best friends \nimaginable. They had mutually written at and preached \nagainst each other, and reciprocally soured naturally amiable \ntempers. The twain accidentally met. \" How do you do. \nBrother Chauncy,\" says the itinerant laborer. \"I am sorry to \nsee you,\" replies Dr. C. \" And so is the devil,\" retorted \nWhitefield. \n\nIn the early part of his life this gentleman happened to be \npreaching in the open fields, when a drummer was present, \nwho was determined to interrupt the services, and beat his \ndrum in a violent manner in order to drown the preacher's \nvoice. Mr. Whitefield spoke very loud, but the din of the \ninstrument overpowered his voice. He therefore called out to \nthe drummer in these words : — \n\n\" Friend, you and I serve the two greatest masters existing, but \nin different callings. You may beat up volunteers for King George, \nI for the Lord Jesus Christ. In God's name, then, don't let us in- \nterrupt each other ; the world is wide enough for us both, and we \nmay get recruits in abundance.\" \n\nThis speech had such effect that the drummer went away in \ngreat good-humor, and left the preacher in full possession of \nthe field, \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. \n\n\n267 \n\n\nTHE WASHINGTON ELM. \n\n\ni\\Iany a pilgrim daily weixls his way to the spot where \n\nWashington placed himself at the head of the army. Above \n\nhim towers \n\n\" A goodly plin, of noble girth, \nTh.it, thrice the human span — \nWhile on their variegated course \n\nThe constant seasons ran — \nThrough gale, and hail, and fiery bolt, \nHad stood erect as man.\" \n\nHe surveys its crippled branches, swathed in bandages ; marks \nthe scars, where, after holding aloft for a century their out- \nstretched arms, limb after limb has fallen nerveless and de- \ncayed ; he pauses to read the inscription lodged at the base of \nthe august fabric, and departs the place in meditative mood, \nas he would leave a churchyard or an altar. \n\nApart from its association with a great event, there is some- \nthing impressive about this elm. It is a king among trees ; a \n\n\n2(')8 IIISTOKIC MAKSlOiNS AND IIIOIIWAVS. \n\nmonarcli, native Id the soil, whose subjects, once scattered \nabroad upon the plain betbre us, have all vanished and left it \nalone in solitary state. The masses of foliage which hide in a \nmeasure its mutilated members, droop gracefull}^ atlnvart the \nold highwa}^, and still beckon the traveller, as of old, to halt \nand breathe awhile beneath their shade. It is not pleasant to \nview the decay of one of these Titans of primeval growth. It \nis too suggestive of the waning forces of man, and of that \n\n'■' Last scene of all, \nThat ends this strange eventful histor}'.\" \n\nAs a shrine of the Eevolution, a temple not made with hands, \nwe trust the old elm will long survive, a sacred memorial to \ngenerations yet to come. We need such monitors in our public \nplaces to arrest our headlong race, and bid us calmly count the \ncost of the empire we possess. We shall not feel the worse for \nsuch introspection, nor could wo have a more impressive coun- \nsellor. The memory of the great is with it and around it ; \nit is indeed on consecrated ground. \n\nWhen the camp was here Washington caused a platform to \nbe built among the branches of this tree, where he was accus- \ntomed to sit and survey with his glass the country round. On \nthe granite tablet we road that \n\nUnder thls trek \nWashington \n\nFUiST TOOK COMMAND \nOF THE \n\nAmerican Arjiy, \n.lui.T 3i>, 177.\"). \n\nOn the spot where the stone cluirch is erected once stood an \nold gambrel-roofed house, long the habitat of the Moore family. \nIt was a dwelling of two stories, with a single chimney stand- \ning in the midst, like a tower, to support the weaker fabric. \nIn front Avere three of those shapely Londxxrd poplars, erect \nand prim, like trees on parade. A flower-garden railed it in \nfrom the road ; a porch in front, and another at the northerly \nend, gave ingress according as the condition of the visitor might \nwarrant. \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 269 \n\nThe Moores occupied the house in the memorable year '75, \nand saw from the windows the cavalcade conducting Washing- \nton to his quarters, — this being, as before stated, the high-road \nfrom WatertoMTi to Cambridge Common. On the following \nday the family might have witnessed the ceremonial of formal \nassumption of command by the cliief, on whom all eyes were \nfixed and in whom all hopes were centred. \n\nDeacon Moore — does he at length rest in peace 1 — was, \nwhile in the flesh, much given to patching and repairing his \nfences, outbuildings, and the wooden belongings of his domain \nin general. He bore the character of an upright, downright, \nconscientious deacon, walking in the odor of sanctity, and was \nregarded with childish awe bj^ the ' urchins of the grammar- \nschool whenever he chose to appear abroad. The deacon's house \nhad its inevitable best ' room, into which heaven's sunshine was \nnever allowed to penetrate, and which was rarely opened except \nto admit a stranger or hold a funeral service. There are yet \nsuch rooms in New England, with their stiff, black hair-cloth \nfurniture, their ghostly pictures, and dank, mouldy odors. The \ncarefully varnished mahogany has a smell of the undertaker ; \nevery sense is oppressed, and the soul pleads for release from \nthe funereal chamber. We repeat, there are still such \" best \nrooms \" in New England. \n\nUpon the decease of Deacon Moore it was discovered that \nsome peculations had been made from the treasury of Dr. \nHolmes's church. These were laid at the door of the departed \ndeacon. Now comes the startling revelation. Night after \nnight the ghost of Deacon Moore revisited his earthly abode, \nand made night hideous with audible pounding, as if in the act \nof mending the fence, as was the deacon's Avont in life. The \naffrighted neighbors, suddenly roused from slumber, fearfully \ndrew their curtains aside, and peered forth into the night in \nquest of the spectre ; but still invisible the wraith pursued its \nmidnight labors. \n\nThe Jennisons succeeded the Moores, and at length the shade \ncame no more. Not many years ago the old house was demol- \nished. A vault was discovered underneath the kitchen, walled \n\n\n270 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nup with rough stone, and in this receptacle were two human \nskeletons. \n\n\"What tale of horror was here concealed, what deed of hlood \nhad caused the disappearance of two human beings from the \nface of the earth, was never revealed. For an unknown time \nthey had remained sealed up in the manner related, and the \nlater dwellers in the house were totally unconscious of their \nhorrid tenants. A family servant had long slept immediately \nabove these bones, and we marked, even after years had passed \naway, a strange glitter in his eye as he recalled his couch upon \na tomb. \n\nThe remains were of adult persons, one a female. What \nmotive had consigned them to this mysterious hiding-place is \nleft to conjecture. Was it domestic vengeance, too deadly for \nthe public ear 1 We answer that two individuals could not \nhave been suddenly taken out of the little community without \nquestion. Were they some unwary, tired wayfarers who had \nsought hospitable entertainment, and found graves instead 1 \n\n\" But Echo never mocked the human tongue ; \nSome weighty crime that Heaven could not pardon, \nA secret curse on that old building hung, \nAnd its deserted garden.\" \n\nWe have hved to have grave doubts whether, as the old \nadage says, \" Murder will out.\" Inspect, if you have the \nstomach for it, our calendar of crime, and mark the array of \nnames which belonged to those whose fate is unknown, and \nwho are there set down like the missmg of an army after the \nbattle. The record is startling ; only at the final muster will \nthe victims answer to the fatal list, and speak \n\n\" Of graves, perchance, untimely scooped \nAt midnight dark and dank.\" \n\nIn Spain an ancient custom constrains each passer-by to cast \na stone upon the heap raised on the scene of wayside murder, \nuntil at length a monument arises to warn against assassination. \nThe peasant always pauses to repeat an ave to the souls of the \nslain. On this spot a church has reared its huge bulk, piling \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 271 \n\nstone upon stone until its steeple, overtopping the Old Elm, \nstands a mightier monument to the manes of the unknown dead. \n\nThe events in the life of Washington which have most im- \npressed us are, the day when he unsheathed his sword beneath \nthe Old Elm ; the morn of the battle of Trenton ; the address \nto his despairing, mutinous officers at Newburg ; and the fare- \nwell to his generals at New York. As he was mounting his \nhorse before Trenton, an officer presented him with a despatch. \nHis remark, \" What a time to bring me a letter ! \" is the sequel \nof his thoughts, — all had been staked on the issue. When he \nrose from his bed early in the morning of the meeting at New- \nburg, he told Colonel Humplu-eys that anxiety had prevented \nhim from sleeping one moment the preceding night. Unwill- \ning to trust to his powers of extempore speaking, Washington \nreduced what he meant to say to writing, and commenced read- \ning it witliout spectacles, which at that time he used only occa- \nsionally. He found, however, that he could not proceed with- \nout them. He stopped, took them out, and as he prepared to \nplace them, exclaimed, \" I have grown blind as well as gray in \nthe service of my country.\" In these instances we see the \npatriot ; in the adieu to his lieutenants, we see the man. \n\nWhen Washington rode into town after the evacuation of \nBoston, he was accompanied by Mrs. Washington, who, in \naccordance with our old-time elegant manners, was styled \n\" Lady \" Washington. Upon reaching the Old South, the \nGeneral wished to enter the budding. Shubael Hewes, who at \nthis time kept the keys, lived opposite, and the General there- \nfore drew up at his door. \n\nWith his usual courtesy the General inquired after the health \nof the family, and was told that Mrs. H. had, the day before, \nbeen delivered of a fine child. At this Mrs. Washington in- \nsisted upon seeing the infant, bom on an occasion so auspicious \nas the repossession of Boston by our troops, and it was accord- \ningly brought out to the carriage and placed in her lap. \n\nThe General, ahghting, went into the meeting-house, and, \nascending to the gallery, where he could fully observe the \nhavoc made by Burgoyne's Light Horse, remarked to the per- \n\n\n272 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nson who accompanied him that he was surprised that the Eng- \nlish, who so reverenced their own places of worship, should \nhave shown such a vandal disposition here. \n\nWashington died at sixty-seven ; Knox, by an accident, at \nfifty-six ; Sullivan, at fifty-five ; Gates, at seventy-eight ; Greene, \nat forty-four ; Heath, at seventy-seven ; Arnold, at sixty ; and \nLee, at fifty-one. Putnam lived to be seventy-two, and Stark \nto be ninety-three, so that it was commonly said of him, that he \nwas first in the field and last out of it. \n\nBut other scenes await us, and though we feel that it is good \nfor us to be here, we must reverently bid adieu to the Old Elm. It \ncould perchance tell, were it, like the Dryads of old, loquacious, \nof the settlers' cabins, when it was a sapling, of the building \nof the old wooden seminary, and of the multitudes that have \npassed and repassed under its verdant arch. The smoke from \na hundred rebel camp-fires drifted through its branches and \nwreathed around its royal dome in the day of maturity, while \nthe drum-beat at the waking of the camp frighted the feathered \nsongsters from their leafy retreats and silenced their matin \nlays. The huzzas that went up when our great leader bared \nthe weapon he at length sheathed with all honor made every \nleaf tremulous with joy, and every brown and sturdy limb \nto wave their green banners in triumph on high. We salute \nthy patriarchal trunk, thy withered branches, and thy scanty \ntresses, 0 venerable and yet lordly Elm ! Vale ! \n\nIt is much more a matter of regret than surprise that we \nhave not in all New England a specimen of antique church \narchitecture worthy of the name. Eigid economy dictated the \nbarn-like structures which were the first Puritan houses of wor- \nship. Quaint they certainly were, and not destitute of a cer- \ntain sombre picturesqueness, with their queer little towers and \nwonderful weather-vanes ; and even their blackening rafters of \nprodigious thickness, their long aisles, and carved balustrades, \ngave modest glimpses of a Rembrandt-like interior. But the \nbeautiful forms of Jones and of Wren were left behind Avhen \nthe Mayflower sailed, and not a single type of Old England's \npride of architecture stands on American soil. Simplicity in \n\n\neAMBElDGl; COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 273 \n\nbuilding, in manners, and in dress, as well as in religion, were \nthe base on which our Puritan fathers builded. Had the \nmeans not been wanting, it may be doubted whether they \nwould have been applied to the erection of splendid public edi- \nfices. The motives which enforced the adherence of the first \nsettlers to the gaunt and unaesthetic structures of their time \nceased, in a great measure, to exist a hundred years later, but \nno revival of taste appeared, and even the Episcopalians, with \nthe memories of their glorious Old World temples, fell in \nwith the prevailing lethargy which characterized the reign of \nugliness. \n\nChrist Church stands confronting the Common much as it \nlooked in colonial times. The subscription was originally \nformed in Boston, the subscribers being either resident or en- \ngaged in business there. The lot included part of the Common \nand part of the estate of James Eeed. The building was at \nfirst only sixty-five feet in length by forty-five in width, exclu- \nsive of chancel and tower, but has been much enlarged, to \naccommodate an increasing parish, — a work which its original \nplan, and the material of which it is constructed, rendered \neasy. Peter Harrison, the architect of King's Chapel in Bos- \nton, was also the designer of this edifice, and seems to have \nfollowed the same plan as for that now venerable structure. \nService was first held here on October 15, 1761, the Rev. East \nJ^r>thorp, whom we have already visited, ofiiciating. Of Dr. \nApthorp's father it is written that he studied to mind his \nown busine^, — a circumstance so rare as to wellnigh deserve \ncanonization. \n\nIn the alterations which have been called for the primitive \nappearance of the buOding has been, in a great measure, pre- \nserved. The exterior is exceedingly simple, but harmonious, \nthe tower, placed in the centre of the front, giving en- \ntrances on three of its sides. The old bell-tower appeared \nrather smaller than its successor, and had a pointed roof, sur- \nmounted, as at present, by a gilded ball. The symbolic cross, \nwhich the Puritans hated with superstitious antipathy, did not \nappear on the pinnacle, out of deference perhaps to the feeling \n12* R \n\n\n274 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwhich abominated a painted window, a Gothic arch, or chancel \nraU, as the concomitants of that Episcopacy against which the \nCromwelHan iconoclasts had waged unrelenting war in every \ncathedral from Chester to Canterbury. \n\nUpon the Declaration of Independence by the Colonies, all \nthe taverns and shops were despoiled of their kingly emblems. \nA Boston letter of that date says : — \n\n\" In consequence of Independence being declared here, all the \nsigns which had crowns on them even the Mitre and Crown in the \norgan loft of the chappell were taken down, and Mr. Parker, (who \nis the Episcopal minister in town) left oS praying for the king.\" \n\nThe interior of Christ Church is quiet and tasteful, with \n\n\" Storied windows richly dight, \nCasting a dim religioiis light.\" \n\nThe Corinthian pillars of solid wood and the original choir are \nstill remaining. And, very like, the stiff, straight-backed pews \nare a relic of ancient discomfort. The tablets bearing the Ten \nCommandments are mementos of Old Trinity in Boston when \nthe wooden edifice was taken down, and have by this means \nsurvived their mother church, which the great fire of 1872 left \na magnificent ruin. A silver flagon and cup, now in use to \ncelebrate the Holy Communion, were presented by Governor \nHutchinson in 1772. Tliese vessels were the property of \nKing's Chapel, Boston, which then received a new service in \nexchange for the old. They are inscribed as \n\nThe Gift of \n\nK. William and Q Mary \n\nTo y Rev* Samll. Myles \n\nFor y» use of \n\nTheire Majesties' Cliappell in N. England. \n\nMDCXCIV. \n\nDr. Apthorp was succeeded by Rev. Winwood Serjeant, in \nwhose time, the Revolution having converted his wealthy and \ninfluential parishioners into refugees and driven him to seek an \nasylum elsewhere, the church became a barrack, in which Cap- \ntain Chester's comj^any, of Wethersfield, Connecticut, was quar- \n\n\nCJIKI.ST CIIUKCH. \n\n\nCAMBKIDGE COMMOF aSU LANDMAEKS. 275 \n\ntered at the time of Bunker Hill, and after them one of the \ncompanies of Southern riflemen. It appears also to have been \nsome time occupied as a guard-house by our forces, rivalling in \nthis respect the wanton usage of the Boston churches by the \nking's troops. But was not Westminster Abbey occupied by \nsoldiery in 1643\"? General Washington, himself a churchman, \nattended a service here, held at the request of Mrs. Washing- \nton, on Sunday, the last day of 1775. The religious rite was \nperformed by Colonel William Palfrey, one of the General's \naids. Mrs. Gates and Mrs. Custis were also present. There \nis a tradition that Washington continued to attend service \nhere, but the General was probably too politic to have adopted \na course so httle in accord with the views of the army in gen- \neral. He attended Dr. Appleton's church at times, and always \nshowed himself possessed of true Christian liberality. On at \nleast one occasion he partook of the Sacrament at the Presby- \nterian table. His generals were, in this respect, mindful of his \nexample. At the baptism of a son of General Knox, in Boston, \nLafayette, a Catholic, and Greene, a Quaker, stood godfathers to \nthe child, Knox himself being a Presb3i;erian. \n\nFrom 1775 until 1790 Christ Chui'ch remained in the con- \ndition in which the war had involved it. During that time it \nhad neither parish nor rector, but in the latter year it was re- \nopened, the Eev. Dr. Parker of Trinity, Boston, officiating for \nthe occasion. A chime of tliirteen bells was placed in the \nbelfry in 1860. For many interesting particulars of the history \nof this church the reader is referred to the historical discourse \nof Eev. Nicholas Hoppin, a former rector. \n\nThe remains of the unfortunate Eichard Brown, a lieutenant \nof the Convention troops, were deposited under this church. \nWe have briefly referred to the shooting of this officer on \nProsjDect HUl, as he was riding out with two women. It gave \nrise to a paper war between General Phillips and General \nHeath, in which, every advantage being on the side of the \nlatter, he may be said to have come off victorious. An inquest \npronounced the shooting justifiable, but the British officers, \nexasperated to the highest degree by this melancholy affair, \n\n\n276 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\naffected to believe themselves the objects of indiscriminate \nslaughter. \n\nIt was at the time the church was opened for the interment \nof Lieutenant Brown, according to the rite of the Church of \nEngland, that the damage to the interior took place. Ensign \nAnbury asserts that the Americans then seized the opportunity \n\" to plunder, ransack, and deface everything they could lay \ntheir hands on, destroying the pulpit, reading-desk, and com- \nmunion table, and, ascending the organ-loft, destroyed the bel- \nlows and broke all the pipes of a very handsome instrument.\" \nThis organ was made by Snetzler. \n\nThe burial-place which lies between the churches has re- \nceived from the earliest \ntimes of our history the \nashes of freeman andslave, \nsquire and rustic. In its \nrepose mingle the dust of \ncollege presidents, soldiers \nof forgotten wars, and \nministers of wellnigh for- \ngotten doctrines. Tire ear- \nliest inscription is in 1 653, \nbut the interments antecedent to this date Avere made, in many \ncases doubtless, without any graven tablet or other stone than \nsome heavy mass selected at hazard, to protect the remains from \nbeasts of prey. In still other instances the lines traced on the \nstones have been effaced by natural causes, and even the rude \nmonuments themselves have disappeared beneath the mould. \n\n\"The slumberer's mound grows fresh and green, \nThen slowly disappears ; \nThe mosses creep, the gray stones lean, \nEarth hides his date and years.\" \n\nAmong the earlier tenants of God's Acre, as Longfellow has \nreverently distinguished it, are Andrew Belcher, the innkeeper, \nStephen Day, the printer, and Samuel Green, his successor, \nElijah Corlet, master of the \" faire Grammar Schoole,\" Dunster, \nfirst President of the College, and Thomas Shepard, minister \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMAKKS. 277 \n\nof the church in Cambridge, who succeeded Hooker when he \ndeparted to plant the Colony of Connecticut. In their various \ncallings, these were the forefathers of the hamlet ; Old Cam- \nbridge is really concentrated within this narrow space. \n\nThe consideration which attached to the position of governor \nof the College is indicated by the long, pompous Latin inscrip- \ntions, to be deciphered only by the scholar. Classic lore, as \ndead to the world in general as is the subject of its eulogium, \nfollowed them to their tombs, — \n\n\" But for mine own part it was all Greek to me,\" — \n\nand is there stretched out at full length in many a line of \nsounding import. Dunster, Chauncy, Leverett, Wadsworth, \nHolyoke, Willard, and Webber lie here awaiting the great \nCommencement, where Freshman may at once attain the high- \nest degree, and where College parchment availeth nothing. \n\nThe disappearance of many of the leaden family-escutcheons \nhas already been accounted for by their conversion into deadly \nmissiles. Necessity, which knows no law, led to these acts of \nsacrilege, and yet we should as soon think of fashioning the \nbones«of the dead themselves into weapons as rob their tablets \nof their blazonry. The cavities in which M^ere placed the \nheraldic emblems are now so many little basins to catch the \ndews of heaven, — our precious and only Holy Water. \n\nThe Vassall tomb, a horizontal sandstone slab resting on five \nupright columns, is one of the most conspicuous objects in the \ncemetery. On the face of the slab are sculptured the chalice \nand sun, which may have been borne upon the banner of some \ngallant French crusader ; for the Vassalls were lords and barons \nin ancient Guienne. Hospitality and unsullied reputation are \nin the heraldic conjunction reduced to knightly or kingly sub- \njection in the name. Whether amid the sands of Holy Land, \nthe soil of sunny France, or the clay of Cambridge churchyard, \nthe slumberers calmly await the summons of the great King-of- \nArms. \n\nISTear Christ Church is a handsome monument of Scotch gran- \nite, erected by the city in 1870 to the memory of John Hicks, \n\n\n278 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND IIIGHW.^YS. \n\nWilliam Marcy, and Moses Richardson, buried here, and of \nJahez Wyman and Jason Russell, of Menotomy, who fell on \nthe day of Lexington battle. \n\nHere is the form of an invitation to a funeral of the olden \ntime. Rev. Mr. i^owell died in London in 1688. \n\n\" fFor the Reuerend Mr. Mather. These — \n\nEeuerend S\"^, — You are desired to accompany the Corps of Mr \nSamuell Nowell, minister of the Gospell, of Eminent Note in New \nEngland, deceased, from Mr Quicks meating place in Bartholemew \nClose, on Thursday next at two of the clock in the afternoon p'cisely, \nto the new burying place by the Artillery ground.\" \n\nAn epitaph has been described as giving a good character to \npersons on their going to a new place, who sometimes enjoyed \na very bad character in the place they had just left. There is \nsomething touching about an unknown grave. Even the igno- \nrant crave some memento when they are gone, and the dread \nof being wholly forgotten on earth is depicted in Gray's incom- \nparable lines : — \n\n\" Yet even these bones from insiilt to protect, \n\nSome frail memorial still erected nigh, ♦ \n\nWith uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, \nImplores the passing tribute of a sigh.\" \n\nOccasionally we see a stone splintered or wantonly defaced. \nSometimes an old heraldic device is obliterated by a modern \nchisel, to give place to some new-comer who has thus, through \nthe agency of a soulless grave-digger, possessed himself of the \nlast heritage of the former proprietor. \n\n\" I think I see them at their work those sapient trouble tombs.\" \n\nWhile we are beautifying our newer cemeteries, and making \nthem to \"blossom as the rose,\" our ancient burial-places remain \nneglected. Cambridge churchyard was long a common thor- \noughfare and playground, from which the stranger augured \nbut ill of our reverence for the ashes of our ancestors. The \nplace is much better kept than formerly, but we marked the \nabsence of all attempt at beautifying the spot. There are \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 279 \n\nneither shady walks nor blooming shrubs in a place so public \nas to meet the eye of every wayfarer. The older stones, half \nhidden in the tangled grass, threaten total disappearance at no \ndistant day. Pray Heaven all that is left of ancient Newtown \ndoes not return to a state of nature. \n\nGovernor Belcher, one of Harvard's best friends, and the \npatron of Princeton College, died at his government in New \nJersey in 1757. He was much attached to Cambridge, his \nAlma Mater, and the friends of Ms youth. In liis will he de- \nsired to be buried in the midst of those he had loved, and \naccordingly his remains were deposited in this burying-ground \nin a tomb constructed a short time previous. It appears that \nthe governor and his bosom friend Judge Remington had ex- \npressed the desire to be buried in one grave, so that when Bel- \ncher was laid in the tomb the body of his friend, who had \npreceded him, was disinterred and laid by his side. The mon- \nument which the governor had directed to be raised over his \nresting-place was never erected, and in time the memory of the \nplace of his interment itseK passed away with the generation to \nwhich he belonged. The tomb became the family vault of the \nJeiftiisons. On the decease of Dr. Jennison, it was found to \nbe completely fiUed ^vith tenants. The old sexton, Brackett, \nupon being questioned, recollected to have seen at the bottom \nof the vault the fragments of an old-fashioned coffin, covered \nwith velvet and studded with gilt nails. This was believed to \nbe that of Governor Belcher, whose granddaughter was the wife \nof Dr. Jennison. The tomb of Belcher and that of Judge \nTrowbridge (since known as the Dana tomb) are near the gate- \nway. In the latter were placed the remains of Washington \nAllston. \n\nThere have been funerals in New England with some attempt \nat feudal pomp. When Governor Leverett died, in 1679, the \npageant was rendered as imposing as possible. Though the \ngovernor had carefully concealed the fact of his knighthood by \nCharles II. during his lifetime, the customs of knightly burial \nwere brought into requisition at his interment in Boston. \nThere were bearers, carrying each a banner roll, at the four \n\n\n2S0 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ncorners of the hearse. After these came the principal gentle- \nmen of the town with the armor of the deceased, the first bear- \ning the helmet, the last the spur. The procession closed with \nthe led liorse of the governor followed by banners. \n\nThe home of Judge Trowbridge was on the ground on which \nthe First Church now stands. Trowbridge, who had been \nattorney-general, and who was, at the breaking out of the Eevo- \nlution, judge of the Supreme Court, resigned soon after the \nbattle of Lexington, and retired to Byfield, where he enjoyed \nfor a time the companionship of his pupil, Theophilus Parsons, \nwhose character he no doubt impressed with his own stamp. \nJudge Trowbridge presided at the trial of Captain Preston with \na fairness and ability that commanded respect. He was well in \nyears when the Eevolution burst forth in fidl vigor, and al- \nthough offered a safe conduct, declined to leave the country, \nsaying, \"I have nothing to fear from my countrymen.\" He \nreturned to Cambridge, and died here in 1793. \n\nA little time after the battle of Lexington Judge Trowbridge \nstated to Eev. John Eliot that, \" it was a most unhappy thing \nthat Hutchinson was ever chief justice of our court. What \nOtis said, ' that he would set the province in flames, if he \nperished by the fire,' has come to pass.\" At the last court \nheld under the charter, Peter Oliver was chief justice, and Ed- \nmund Trowbridge, Foster Hutchinson, William Cushing, and \nWilliam Brown were the judges. Of these, Cushing was the \nonly one who afterwards appeared on the bench. \n\n\" The scene is changed ! No green arcade, \nNo trees all ranged arow.\" \n\nThe old Brattle house, on the street of that name, is the first \nyou meet with after passing the spot where formerly stood a \nhotel imder the familiar designation of the Brattle House, but \nmore recently occupied as a printing house. The buildings, \nnow entirely demolished, occupied a part of the Brattle estate, \nAvhich was once the most noted in Cambridge for the elegance \nof its grounds and the walk laid out hj the proprieter, known \nin its day as Brattle's Mall. Miss Ruth Stiles, afterwards the \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 281 \n\nmother of Dr. Gannett of Boston, penned some beautiful lines \nto this promenade : — \n\n\" Say, noble artist, by what power inspired \nThy skilful hands such varied scenes compose ? \nAt whose command the sluggish soil retir'd, \nAnd from the marsh this beauteous mall arose ? \" \n\nThe walk, which once conducted to the river's side, was the \nfavorite promenade for the nymphs and swains of Old Cam- \nbridge, as on a moonlit eve they wandered forth \nto whisper their vows, chant a love-ditty under \nthe shadows of the listening trees, or idly cast \na pebble into the current of the shimmering ' \n\n\nstream. Besides the mall, was a marble grotto \nin which gurgled forth a spring, where love- \ndraughts of singular potency were quaffed, en- \nchaining, so 't was said, the wayward fancies of \nthe coquette, or giving heart of grace to bashful \nwooer. Eeader, the spring has coyly with- brattle. \ndrawn beneath the turf, though its refreshing pool is indicated \nby a ruined arch nigh the waU of the enclosure ; the mall, too, \nis gone, but stiU, perchance, \n\n\" Light-footed fairies guard the verdant side \nAnd watch the turf by Cynthia's lucid beam.\" \n\nThe elder Thomas Brattle was an eminent merchant of Bos- \nton, and a principal founder of Brattle Street Church. From \nhim, also, that street took its nam.e. He was the brother of \nWilliam, the respected minister of Cambridge. WiUiam Brattle, \nthe tory brigadier, went into exile in the royalist hegira, de- \nserting his house and all his worldly possessions. The soldiery \nwere not long in scenting out and making spoil of the good \nliquors contained in the fugitive's cellars, until this house, with \nothers, was placed under guard, and the effects of every sort \ntaken in charge for the use of the Colonial forces. \n\nThomas Brattle, the son of the brigadier, was the author of \nthe improvements which made his grounds the most celebrated \nin New England, He left the country in 1775 for England, \n\n\n282 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbut returned before the close of the war, and had the good for- \ntune to obtain the removal of his political disabilities. His \ncharacter was amiable, and his pursuits prompted by an en- \nlightened benevolence and hospitality. One of the last acts of \nhis life was to erect a bath at what was called Brick Wharf, \nfor the benefit of the students of the University, many of whom \nhad lost their lives while bathing in the river. Brattle was an \nenthusiastic lover of horticulture, and devoted much of his time \nto the embellishment of his grounds. \n\nGeneral Mifflin occupied the Brattle mansion while acting as \nquartermaster-general to our forces. Mifflin and Dr. Jonathan \nPotts, the distinguished army-surgeon of the Revolution, married \nsisters. The former was small in stature, very active and alert, \n\n— qualities which he displayed in the Lechmere's Point affair, \n\n— but withal somewhat bustling, and fond of telling the sol- \ndiers he would get them into a scrape. His manners were \npopular, and he appeared every inch a soldier when on duty. \nDespite the cloud which gathered about Mifflin's connection \nwith the conspiracy to depose Washington, he nobly exerted \nhimself to reinforce the wreck of the grand army at the close \nof the campaign of 1776. \n\nMrs. John Adams paid a visit to Major Mifflin's in Decem- \nber, 1775, to meet Mrs. Morgan, the wife of Dr. Church's suc- \ncessor as director-general of the hospital. In the company \nwere Generals Gates and Lee. Tea was drank ■wdthout restraint. \n\n\" General Lee,\" says Mrs. Adams, \" was very urgent for me to \ntarry in towTi and dine with him and the ladies present at Hobgob- \nlin Hall, but I excused myself. The General was determined that \nI should not only be acquainted with him, but with his companions \ntoo, and therefore placed a chair before me, into which he ordered \nMr. Spada to mount and present his paw to me for better acquaint- \nance. I could not do otherwise than accept it. ' That, Madam,' \nsays, he, ' is the dog which Mr. has made famous.' \" \n\nMrs. Adams further says : — \n\n\"You hear nothing from the ladies but about Major Mifflin's easy \naddress, politeness, complaisance, etc. 'T is well he has so agreeable \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 283 \n\na lad}' at Philadelphia. They know nothing about forts, intrench- \nnients, etc., when they return ; or if they do, they are all forgotten \nand swallowed up in his accomplishments.\" \n\nIt is evident that the Major was a gallant cavalier, and \nwould have been called in our day a first-rate ladies' man, \nMargaret I'uller and Motley tlie historian both lived in this \nhouse, now the property of the Cambridge Social Union. \n\nTo understand what was this old Colonial highway in \nwhich we are now sauntering, contract its breadth, expanded \nat the cost of the contiguous estates ; rear again the magnifi- \ncent trees sacrificed to the improvement, save here and there a \nnoble specimen spared at the earnest intercession of the near \nproprietors, or where protected, like the \" spreading chestnut- \ntree,\" by the poet's art, — would that he might dedicate his \nmuse to every one of these mighty forest guardians ! — some \nrelics of the dispersed sylvan host yet clings to the soil ; carry \nthe boundaries of Thomas Brattle to those of the Vassalls ; \nobliterate the modern villas, with their neutral tints and \nchateau roofs ; restore the orchards, the garden glacis, the fra- \ngrant lindens, and cool groves; and you have an inkling of the \nstate of the magnificos of \" forty-five \" and of the most impor- \ntant artery of old Massachusetts Bay. \n\nNear where stood the horse-chestnut, by whose stem Long- \nfellow has located the village smithy, we ought to pause a \nmoment before the long-time dwelling of Judge Story, — a \nplain, three-story brick house, with small, square upper win- \ndows, and veranda along its eastern front. This house was \nbuilt about 1800, and in it Story died, and from it he was \nburied. \n\nThe old Judge was wont, they say, when weighty matters \noccupied him, to take his hat into his study, where he remained \nsecure from intrusion ; while the servant, not seeing his head- \ncovering in its accustomed place in the hall, would say to \ncomers of every degree that he was not at home. \n\n\" In the summer afternoons he left his library towards twilight, \nand might always be seen by the passer-by sitting with his family \n\n\n284 Hls'TORic Mansions and highways. \n\nunder the portico, talking, or reading some light pamphlet or news- \npaper ; oftener surrounded by friends, and making the air ring with \nhis gay laugh. This, with the interval occupied by tea, would last \nuntil nine o'clock. Generally, also, the summer afternoon was \nvaried, three or four times a week in fine weather, by a drive with \nmy mother of about an hour through the surrounding coimtry in an \nopen chaise. At about ten or half past ten he retired for the night, \nnever varying a half-hour from this time.\" * \n\nWilliam W. Story, the son of Judge Story, passed his college \nlife in this house, was married in it, and here also made his \nfirst essays in art. The heautiful statue of the jurist in the \nchapel of Mount Auburn is the work of liis son's hands. Judge \nStory's widow remained but a little time in the house after her \nhusband's decease. Edward Tuckerman, professor of botany at \nAmherst, lived here some time, a bachelor ; and Judge William \nKent, son of the celebrated chancellor, resided here while pro- \nfessor in the Law School. In his time gayety prevailed in the \nold halls, often filled with the elite of the town, and sometimes \ndistinguished by the presence of the eminent commentator him- \nself. In this house, could we but make its walls voluble, we \nmight write the annals of bench and bar. It stands amid the \nfrailer structures stanch as the Constitution, while its old-time, \nlearned inhabitant has long since oheyed the summons of the \nSupreme Court of last resort, where there is no more conflict \nof laws. \n\nAsh Street is the name now given to the old highway lead- \ning to the river's side, where formerly existed an eminence \nknown as Windmill Hill, later the site of Brattle's bathing- \nhouse, from which the way was known as Bath Lane. The \nmill is mentioned as standing in 1719, and, in all probability, \noccupied the same ground as the earlier miU of the first plant- \ners, removed in 1632 to Boston, \"because it would not grind \nbut with a westerly wind.\" The firm ground extends here \nquite to the river, so that boats freighted with corn could \nunload at the mill. Down this lane of yore trudged many a \nweary rustic with his grist for the mill. \n\n* Judge Story's Memoir, by liis son. \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMOK AND LANDMAUIvS. \n\n\n285 \n\n\nThe house, lately the residence of Samuel Batchelder, Esq., \nAvas built about 1700, and may claim the respect due to a hale, \nhearty old age. It was originally of rough-cast, filled in with \nbrick. The east front, unfortunately injured by fire, was re- \nstored to its ancient aspect, except that the dormer windows \nof that part have not been replaced. The brown old mansion \nincloses three sides of a square, and \noffers a much more picturesque view \nfrom the gardens than from the \nstreet. On the west was the court- \nyard and carriage entrance, paved \nwith beach pebbles, now a street; \nthe east front opened upon the \nspacious grounds, now somewhat \nshrunken on the side of the high- \nway by its enlargement. During \nthis improvement the low brick \nwall on Brattle Street, as it now \nappears on Ash Street, was taken \ndown, and replaced by one more elegant. The recessed area \nat the back has a cool, monastic look, with shade and climbing \n\nvines, — a place for meditative \nfancies. The garden is thickly \nstudded with trees, shrubbery, and \nflowers, as also was the dreary \nwaste once Thomas Brattle's, dur- \ning the time of that right worthy \nhorticulturist. At the extremity \nof Mr. Batchelder's garden re- \nmains of what were believed to \nhave belonged to the early forti- \nfications Avere discovered. The \nsituation coincides with the loca- \ntion as fixed by Rev. Dr. Holmes. \nThe estate came, in 1717, into \nthe possession of Jonathan Belcher \nwhile he was yet a merchant and had not donned the cares of \n\n\nBELCHER. \n\n\nGOVERNOR BELCHER. \n\n\n286 HISToniC MANSIONS AND lilGflWAYg. \n\noffice. He was one of the most elegant gentlemen of his time \nin manners and appearance, — a fact for which his portrait \nwill vouch. While governor he once made a state entry into \nHampton Falls, where the Assemblies of Massachusetts Bay \nand New Hampshire were in session on the vexatious question \nof the dividing line between the governments. \"We append \n1 contemporary pasquinade on the event : — \n\n\" Dear Paddy, you ne'er did behold such a sight \nAs yesterday morning was seen before night. \nYou in all your born days saw, nor I did n't neither, \nSo many fine horses and men ride together. \nAt the head the lower house trotted two in a row, \nThen all the higher house pranc'd after the low; \nThen the Governor's coach gallop'd on like the wind, \nAnd the last that came foremost were troopers behind ; \nBut I fear it means no good to your neck nor mine, \nFor they say 't is to fix a right place for the line.\" \n\nThe mansion afterwards became the property of Colonel John \nVassall, the elder, whose sculptured tombstone we have seen in \nthe old churchyard. This gentleman conveys the estate (of \nseven acres) to his brother, Major Henry, an officer in the \nmilitia, who died in this house in 1769. The wife of Major \nVassall, nee Penelope Royall, left her home, at the breaking out \nof hostilities, in such haste, it is said, that she carried along \nwith her a yoimg companion, whom she had not time to re- \nstore to her friends. Sucli of her property as was serviceable \nto the Colony forces was given in charge of Colonel Stark, \nwhile the rest was allowed to pass into Boston. The barns and \noutbuildings were used for the storage of the Colony forage, cut \nwith whig scythes in tory pastures. \n\nIt is every way likely that the Widow Vassall's house at once \nbecame the American hospital, as Thacher tells us it was near \nheadquarters, and no other house was so near as this. There \nis little doubt that it was the residence, as it certainly was the \nprison, of that inexplicable character. Dr. Benjamin Church, \nwhose defection was the first that the cause of America had \nexperienced. Suspicion fell upon Church before the middle of \nSeptember. He was summoned to headquarters on the evening \n\n\nCAMBRIDGE COMMON AND LANDMARKS. 287 \n\nof September 13, before a council of the generals, where he \nprobably learned, for the first time, that he was the object of \ndistrust. \"When questioned by Washington he appeared utterly \nconfounded, and made no attempt to vindicate himself. \n\nA treasonable letter, written in cipher, which he was attempt- \ning to send to his brother in Boston, by the liands of his mis- \ntress, was intercepted, and disclosed Church's perfidy. The \nletter itself, when deciphered, did not contain any intelligence \nof importance, but the discovery that one until then so high in \nthe esteem of his countrjonen was engaged in a clandestine cor- \nrespondence with the enemy was deemed sufficient evidence \nof guilt. He was arrested and confined in a chamber looking \nupon Brattle Street. The middle window in the second story \nwill indicate the apartment of his detention, in which he em- \nployed some of his leisure in cutting on the door of a closet, \n\n\" B Churcli jr \" \n\nThere the marks now remain, their significance awaiting a \nright interpretation by Mrs. James, to whom they were long \nfamiliar, without suspicion of their origin. The chamber has \ntwo windows in the north front, and two overlooking the area \non the south. \n\nThe doctor was called before a council of war, consisting of \nall the major-generals and brigadiers of the army, besides the \nadjutant-general. General Washington presiding. This tribunal \ndecided his acts to have been criminal, but remanded him for \nthe decision of the General Court, of which he was a member. \nHe was taken in a chaise, escorted by General Gates and a \nguard of twenty men, to the music of a fife and drum, to \nWatertown meeting-house, where the court sat. It would be \ndifficult to produce a more remarkable instance of special plead- \ning than Church's defence. The galleries were thronged with \npeople of all ranks. The bar was placed in the middle of the \nbroad aisle, and the Doctor arraigned. He was adjudged guilty \nand expelled. His subsequent confinement by order of the \nContinental Congress, his permission to depart the country, \nand his mysterious fate are matters of history. \n\n^ letter from Dr. Church's brother, to which the treasonable \n\n\n288 HISTOMC! MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ndocument was a reply, contains the following among other re- \nmarkable passages, — it refers to Bunker Hill : — \n\n\" What says the psalm-singer and Johnny Dupe to fightmg \nBritish troops now ? They are at Philadelphia, I suppose plotting \nmore mischief, where I hear your High Mightiness has been Ambas- \nsador extraordinary : take care of your nob, Mr. Doctor ; remember \nyour old friend, the orator ; * he will preach no more sedition.\" \n\nWhat Paul Eevere says, together with other corroborative \nevidence, leaves but little doubt that Dr. Church -was in the \npay of General Gage. Eevere's account is, in part, as fol- \nlows : — \n\n\" The same day I met Dr. Warren. He was president of the \nCommittee of Safety. He engaged me as a messenger to do the out \nof doors business for that committee ; which gave me an opportunity \nof being frequently with them. The Friday evening after, about \nsimset, I was sitting with some, or near all that committee in their \nroom, which was at Mr, Hastings's house in Cambridge. Dr. \nChurch all at once started up. ' Dr. Warren,' said he, ' I am deter- \nmined to go into Boston to-morrow.' (It set them all a staring.) \nDr. Warren replied, ' Are you serious, Dr. Church 1 They will hang \nyou if they catch you in Boston.' He replied, ' I am serious, and \nam determined to go at all adventures.' After a considerable con- \nversation Dr. Warren said, ' If you are determined, let us make \nsome business for you.' They agreed that he should go to get medi- \ncine for their and our wounded officers.\" \n\n* Warren. \n\n\nHEADQUAllTERS OF THE Alli\\n'. 289 \n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. \n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. \n\n\" Somewhat back from the village street \nStands the old-fashioned countiy-seat. \" \n\nEXCEPT Mount Vernon, the shrine at which every Amer- \nican means some day to render homage, the house once \nthe residence of Mr. Longfellow is probably the best known of \nany in our country. It is not to be wondered at that the foot- \nsteps of many pilgrims stray wdthin the 'pleasant enclosure. \nThe house has often been described, and is an object familiar \nto thousands who have visited it, and who would regret its \ndisappearance as a public misfortune. \n\nA score of years gone by the writer accompanied a gentleman \nfrom a distant State, then accredited to a foreign court, to view \nthe historic localities of Old Cambridge. \" Ah ! \" said the \nvisitor, as we paused before this mansion, \" there is no need to \naccount for the poet's inspiration.\" Be it our task, then, after \nrepeating something of its history, to stand at the entrance door, \nand, like Seneschal of old, announce in succession those who \nclaim our service in ,the name of master of the historic edifice. \n\nStanding at some distance back from the street, the mansion \nis in the style of an English country house of a hundred and \nfifty years ago. It is built of wood without, walled up with \nbrick within, giving strength to the building and comfort to its \ninhabitants. \n\nThe approach is by a walk rising over two slight terraces by \nsuccessive flights of sandstone steps. The first of these terraces \nis bordered by a neat wooden balustrade. Four pilasters with \nCorinthian capitals ornament the front of the mansion ; one \nstanding at each side of the entrance, while others relieve the \ncorners. A pediment raised above the line of the cornice rests \n13 S \n\n\n290 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nupon the central pilasters, and gives character to tlie design. \nA dormer window jutting out on either side of the pediment, \na pair of substantial chimneys, and a balustrade at the summit \nof the roof complete the external aspects of the house. The \nverandas seen on either side are the taste of a modern pro- \nprietor. Yellow and white, the poet's colors, are the outward \ndress which has been applied to this house since a time when \nthe memory of man runneth not to the contrary. \n\nOne day we stood on the broad stone slab before this door. \nWe had time to mark the huge brass knocker which seemed to \ncourt a giant's grasp, but, 0 Vulcan ! what a lock was its fellow \non the other side. The key might have been forged at the \nsmithy of a Cyclop, and would have done no discredit to the \ngirdle of the keeper of tlie Bastile or of the White Tower. \n\nIt was probably the poet's mental stature that made us ex- \npect to see a taller man. His handsome white hair, worn long; \nhis beard, which threescore and six completed years had \nblanched, gave him a venerable appearance by no means con- \nsistent with his mental and bodily activity. A warm, even \nruddy complexion; an eye briglit and expressive; a genial \nsmile, which at once allayed any well-founded doubts the in- \ntruder might entertain of his reception, made Mr. Longfellow's \na countenance to be remembered. Looking into that face, Ave \nfelt at no loss to account for the beauty, purity, and high moral \ntone which pervade the poet's productions. \n\nAn apparent aroma of fragrant tobacco indicated that, like \nTennyson, our host found solace in the weed. The large front \nroom, one of four into which the first floor is divided, and \nAvhich opens at your right hand as you enter the hall, was re- \nserved by the poet for his study, and here, among his books, \nantique busts, and other literary paraphernalia, the magician \nwove his spell. \n\nThe windows look upon the lawn and walk by which you \napproach the house. The grounds are embellished with shrub- \nbery and dominated by some fine old elms ; but the eye is soon \nengaged with, and lingers on, the broad expanse of meadow \nthrough which the river winds unseen, and whose distant \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 291 \n\nmargin is fringed with the steeples tind house-tops of Brighton. \nBeyond are the rounded hills and pleasant dales of Brookline, \nand from the upper windows you may see, on a clear day, the \nblue masses of Milton Hills. Thus it looked to the early pro- \nprietor and to Washington, and thus the present memorial, by \nthe recovery of a large portion of the original acres, perpetuates \nat once the poet and his landscape. \n\nLighting a taper, our host first led the way to the cellars, \nwith timely caution to take heed of the soUd timbers overhead, \nas we descended the stairs. He made us remark the thickness \nof these beams and of the outer walls of the building proper. \nIn extent and loftiness these cellars were not unworthy some \nold convent in which many a butt of good Rhenish — unless \nwe do them foul wrong — has consoled the jolly friars for days \nof mortification in downright bacchanaUan wassail. We passed \nbeneath arches where light was never meant to enter, for fear \nof offenduig the deep, rich glow of the port, or the pale lustre \nof the Madeu'a, — recesses out of which we almost expected to \nsee the phantom of the Colonial proprietor appear and challenge \nour footsteps. \n\nThe house is spacious and elegant throughout. From the \nhall of entrance the staircase winds to the upper floor, giving \nan idea of loftiness such as you experience in looking up at the \nvault of a church. The principles of ventilation were respected \nby the builder in a manner which savors strongly of a AVest- \nIndiaii life. Not a sign of weakness or decay is apparent in \nthe woodwork ; Avainscots, panels, capitals, and cornices are \nin excellent taste and skilfully executed. \n\nThe old proprietor's farm, for such it was, at first consisted \nof a hundred and fifty acres or more. The Sewall mansion, \nsinc« that of John Brewster, Esq., was then the nearest on that \nside, an'd at the back the grounds embraced the site of the Ob- \nservatory, where formerly stood a summer-house. From this \nhill the waters of a spring w'ere conducted to the house by an \naqueduct, still visible where it entered the foundation-wall. \nThe greenhouses were formerly on the spot where the new dor- \nmitory has since been erected ; the capacious barn is still stand- \n\n\n292 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ning on the west side of the house. Nothing seems to have \nbeen wanting to render the estate complete in all its appoint- \nments. \n\nThe house was probably erected in 1759 by Colonel John \nVassall, the same at whose tomb we have paid a passing visit. \nHis family was a distinguished one, both in Old and New \nEngland. In King's Chapel, Boston, the visitor may see a \nbeautiful mural monument, commemorative of the virtues, loy- \nalty, and sufferings of Samuel Vassall, a member, and one of \nthe Assistants, of the Massachusetts Company. The escutcheon \ndisplays the same emblems as the horizontal slab in Cambridge \nchurchyard. The crest is a ship with the sails furled, adopted, \nno doubt, to honor the services of that brave John Vassall who \nfought with Howard, Drake, and Hawkins, against the armada \nof Philip II. The Vassalls were from Cambridge in Old Eng- \nland. \n\nThere could be no fitter name for so stanch a loyalist as Col- \nonel John Vassall. It is said he would not use on his arms the \nfamily device, \" Scepe pro rege, semper ^iro repuhlica.\" He \ntook an active part against the whigs in the struggles prelimi- \nnary to active hostilities, and early in 1775 became a fugitive \nunder the protection of the royal standard. In Boston he occu- \npied the time-honored mansion of the Faneuils, where he, no \ndoubt, often saw his fellow-tories assembled around his board. \nHis Cambridge and Boston estates were both confiscated, and \nnot the least curious of the freaks which fortune played in those \ntroublous times was the occupation of the fii'st-named house by \nAVashington, while that of William Vassall, in Boston, after- \nwards the residence of Gardiner Greene, Avas for some time the \nlodgings of Sir William Howe, and also of Earl Percy. Col- \nonel Vassall retired to England, where he died in 1797, after \neating a hearty dinner. \n\nHaving witnessed the hurried exit of the first proprietor, it \nbecomes our duty to throw wide the portal and admit a bat- \ntalion of Colonel John Glover's amphibious Marblehead regi- \nment. As the royalist went out the republicans came in, and \nthe halls of the haughty tory resounded with merriment or \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 293 \n\nechoed to the tread of many feet. Colonel John the first gave \nplace to Colonel John tlie second. Truth compels us to add \nthat the man of Marblehead has left a more enduring record \nthan the marble of the Vassall. \n\nThe little colonel, though small in stature, was as brave as \nCffisar. His patriotism was full proof. Besides his service at \nthe siege of Boston, his regiment brought off the army in safety \nafter the disastrous affair of Long Island, where they showed \nthat they could handle ashen as well as steel blades. He was \na great favorite with Lee, with whom he served two campaigns. \nIt was Glover who, after the ever-memorable passage of the \nDelaware, made the discovery that the thickly falling sleet had \nrendered the fire-arms useless. Meaning glances were exchanged \namong the little group who heard the ill-omened announce- \nment. \" What is to be done 1 \" exclaimed SuUivan. \" Nothing \nis left you but to push on and charge,\" rephed St. Clair. Sul- \nlivan, stLU doubtful, sent Colonel WiUiam Smith, one of his \naids, to inform General Washington of the state of his troops, \nand that he could depend upon nothing but the bayonet. \nGeneral Washington replied to Colonel Smith in a voice of \nthunder, \" Go back, sir, immediately, and teU General SuUivan \nto ffo on I \" Colonel Smith said he never saw a face so awfully \nsublime as Washington's when he spoke these words. \n\nKnox, whose superhuman efforts on that night to get his ar- \ntillery across the Delaware entitle him to lasting praise, pays \nthis tribute to the brave men of Glover's command : — \n\n\" I could wish that they [he was speaking to the Massachusetts \nLegislature] had stood on the banks of the Delaware River in 1776, \non that bitter night when the commander-in-chief had drawn up his \nlittle array to cross it, and had seen the powerful current bearing \nonward the floating masses of ice which threatened destruction to \nwhosoever should venture upon its bosom. I wish that, when this \noccurrence threatened to defeat the enterprise, they could have \nheard that distinguished warrior demand, ' Who ivill lead us on?' \nand seen the men of Marblehead, and Marblehead alone, stand for- \nward to lead the army along its perilous path to unfading glories \nand honors in the achievements of Trenton.\" \n\n\n294 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nGlover was himself a fisherman and wore a short round- \njacket, like his men. Two of his captains, John Selmau and \nNicholson Broughton, engaged in the first naval expedition \nof the Revolution. A third, William Eaymond Lee, finally \nbecame Glover's successor in the command of the regiment. \nGlover had been out with the Marblehead militia when Leslie \nattempted to force his way into Salem. The regiment reported \nto General \"Ward on the 2 2d of June, 1775. \n\nGraydon, whose illiberal and sweeping abuse of the New \nEngland troops renders his praise the more remarkable, makes \nan exception in favor of Glover's regiment, which he saw in \nNew York in 1776. He says : — \n\n\" The only exception I recollect to have seen to these miserably \nconstituted bands from New England was the regiment of Glover \nfrom Marblehead. There was an appearance of discipline in this \ncorps ; the officers seemed to have mixed with the world, and to un- \nderstand what belonged to their station. But even in this regiment \nthere were a number of negroes, which, to persons unaccustomed to \nsuch associations, had a disagreeable, degrading effect.\" \n\nGlover served in the Northern army in the campaign against \nBurgoyne. He commanded the troops drawn up to receive the \nsurrender, and, with Whipple, escorted the forces of the Con- \nvention to Cambridge. An excellent disciplinarian, his regi- \nment was one of the best in the army. But the Provincial \nCongress has ordered the house cleared for a more illustrious \ntenant, and our sturdy men of Essex must seek another loca- \ntion. On the 7th of July they received orders to encamp. In \nFebruar}^, 1776, the regimental headquarters were at Brown's \ntavern, while the regiment itself lay encamped in an enclosed \npasture to the north of the Colleges. \n\nFrom the records of the Provincial Congress we learn that \nJoseph Smith was the custodian of the Vassall farm, which fur- \nnished considerable supplies of forage for our armj^. It was at \nthe time when the haymakers were busy in the royalist's mead- \nows that Washington, entering Cambridge -with his retinue, first \nhad his attention fixed by the mansion which for more than \neight months became his residence. \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. \n\n\n295 \n\n\n\"Once, ah ! once, within these walls, \nOne whom memory oft recalls, \nThe father of his country dwelt ; \nAnd yonder meadows broad and damp, \nThe fires of the besieging camp \nEncircled mtli a burning belt.\" \n\n\nWashington probably took possession of this house before \nthe middle of July, as he himself records, under date of July \n15, that he paid for cleansing the premises assigned him, which \nhad been occupied by the Marblehead regiment. The Com- \nmittee of Safety had ordered it vacated early in May for their \nown use, but there \nis no evidence \nthat they ever sat \nthere. \n\nWhatever re- \nlates to the per- \nsonality of Wash- \nington will re- \nmain a matter \nof interest to the \nlatest times. The \npencils of the \nPeales, of Trum- \nbull, Stuart, of \nWertmiiller, and \nothers have de- \npicted him in ear- \nly manhood, in \nmature age, and \nthe decline of life; \nwliile the chisel of \na Canova, a Houdon, and a Chantrey have familiarized Ameri- \ncans with his commanding figure and noble cast of features : — \n\n\" A combination and a form indeed, \nWhere every god did seem to set his seal \nTo give the world assurance of a man,\" \n\n\nBALLS WASHINGTON STATUE. \n\n\n296 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nOne of Rochanibeau's generals has left by far the most satis- \nfactory account of \"Washington's outward man : — \n\n\"His stature is noble and lofty, he is well made and exactly \nproportioned ; his physiognomy mild and agreeable, but such as to \nrender it impossible to speak particularly of any of his features, so \nthat in quitting him you have only the recollection of a fine face. \nHe has neither a grave nor a familiar air, his brow is sometimes \nmarked with thought, but never with inquietude ; in inspiriug re- \nspect he inspires confidence, and his smile is always the smile of \nbenevolence.\" \n\nSays another : — \n\n\" With a person six feet two inches m stature, expanded, muscular, \nof elegant proportions and unusually graceful in all its movements, \n— his head moulded somewhat on the model of the Grecian an- \ntique ; features sufiiciently prominent for strength or comeliness, — \na Roman nose and large blue eyes deeply thoughtful rather than \nliA^ely, — with these attributes the appearance of Washington was \nstriking and august. Of a fine complexion, he was accounted when \nyoung one of the handsomest of men.\" \n\nThat Washington wore his famous blue and buff uniform on \nhis arrival at Cambridge there can be as little doubt as that he \nappeared in his seat in Congress in this garb ; and, as these \nbecame the colors of the famed Continental army, their origin \nbecomes a subject of inquiry. \n\nThe portrait of the elder Peale, painted in 1772, represents \nWashington in the uniform of the pro\"\\dncial troops, which, for \ngood cause, was varied from that of the British line. In the \nformer corps the coat was blue faced with crimson, in the lat- \nter scarlet faced with blue, — colors which had been worn since \ntheir adoption in the reign of Queen Anne. To continue Peale's \ndelineation of Colonel Washington's uniform, the coat and waist- \ncoat, out of which is seen protruding the \" order of march,\" \nare both edged with silver lace, with buttons of white metal. \nAn embi'oidered lilac-colored scarf falls from the left shoulder \nacross the breast and is knotted at the right hip, while sus- \npended by a blue ribbon from his neck is the gorget bearing \nthe arms of Virginia, then and afterwards a distinctive emblem. \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 297 \n\nas the fusee he carries by a sling was the companion of every \nofficer. This was the very dress he wore on the day of Brad- \ndock's signal defeat. \n\nBlue — than which no color can be more soldierly — had its \nprecedent, not only in the British Horse Guards, but in the \nFrench and other armies of Continental Europe. It is to \nSweden, however, that we must look for the origin of the cele- \nbrated blue and buff, as we find the Eoyal Swedes wearing it. \nas early as 1715. In 1789 they were attired in the very cos- \ntume of the Continentals. \n\nThe General wore rich epaulettes and an elegant small sword. \nHe also carried habitually a pair of screw-barrelled, silver- \nmounted pistols, with a dog's head carved on the handle. It \nalso appears that he sometimes wore the light-blue ribbon across \nhis breast, between coat and waistcoat, which is seen in Peale's \nportrait painted for Louis XVI. This badge, which gave rise \nto the mistaken idea that Washington was a Marshal of France, \nwas worn in consequence of an order issued in July, 1775, to \nmake the persons of the generals known to the army. By the \nsame order the major and brigadier generals were to wear pink \nribbons, and the aides-de-camp green. An old print of General \nPutnam exhibits this peculiarity. Cockades of different colors \nwere assigned by orders in 1776 as distinguishing badges for \nofficers. \n\nPeale's portrait of Colonel Washington, together with other \nvaluable paintings at Arlington House, were removed by Mrs. \nLee when she left her residence in May, 1861. Although con- \nsiderably injured by the rough usage of war times, every lover \nof art will be glad to know that they have been preserved. The \ngorget which has been mentioned as having been worn by \nWashington when he sat to the elder Peale is now preserved \nas a precious relic in the Quincy family, of Boston. A pair of \nepaulettes worn by the General at Yorktown, together with \nsome other mementos, are in the cabinets of the Massachusetts \nHistorical Society. \n\nThe commander-in-chief, upon taking possession of his head- \nquarters, selected the southeast chamber for his sleeping-apart- \n13* \n\n\n298 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nment. What vigils he kept here in the silent watches of the\" \nnight, what invocations were made for Providential aid and \nguidance, when, escaping from the sight of men, he unbosomed \nhimself and bowed down beneath the weight of his responsi- \nbilities, the walls alone might tell. \n\n\" Yes, witliin this ver-y room, \nSat he in those hours of gloom, \nWeary both iu heart and head.\" \n\nWashington was very exact iu liis habits. It is said he \nalways shaved, dressed himself, summer and winter, and an- \nswered his letters by candle-light. Nine o'clock was his hour \nfor retiring. \n\nThe front room underneath the chamber, already mentioned \nas the poet's study, was appropriated by the General for a simi- \nlar piu'pose. This opens at the rear into the library, an apart- \nment occupied in the day of the great Virginian by his military \nfamily. In the study the ample autograph was appended to \nletters and orders that have formed the framework for contem- \nporary history ; the march of Arnold to Quebec, the new or- \nganization of the Continental army, the occupation of Dorches- \nter Heights, and the simple but graphic expression of the final \ntriumph of patient endurance in the following order of tlie \nday : — \n\n\" Head QyAKTEiis, 17th March 1776. \n\" Parole Boston. Countersign St. Patrick.\" \n\n\" The regiments under marching orders to march to-morrow \nmorning. Brigadier of the Day, General Sidlivan. \n\n\" By His Excellency's Command.\" \n\nHere, too, our General rose to his full stature when, in his \nfamous letter to General Gage, he gave utterance to the feelings \nof honest resentment called forth by the supercilious declara- \ntions of that officer in language which must have stung the \nBriton to the quick : — \n\n\"You affect, sir, to despise all rank not derived from the same \nsource M'ith your own. I camiot conceive one more honoi'able than \nthat which flows from the uncorrupted choice of a brave and free \npeople, — the purest source and original fountain of all power.\" \n\n\nHEADQUAETERS OF THE ARMY. 299 \n\nN\"apoleon, when in exile at St. Helena, remarked to an \nEnglishman 'vvhile arguing against the foolish attempt to make \nhim relinquish the title of Emperor, \" Your nation called Wash- \nington a leader of rebels for a long time, and refused to acknowl- \nedge either liim or the constitution of his country ; but his \nsuccesses obliged them to change and acknowledge both.\" \n\nThe phrase of \" military family,\" in which was included the \nentire staff of the General, originated in the British army. The \ncustom of embracing the suite of a general in his household, \nand of constituting them in effect members of his family, Avas \nnot practised in the armies of Continental Europe. AVashing- \nton was fortunately able to support the charge of this practice, \nas well as to control the incongruous elements sometimes \ngrouped about his person. Of his first staff. Gates, the head, \nbecame soured, aiid, fancying his position far beneath his merits, \na restraint soon appeared in his demeanor. Mifflin, the first \naid, afterwards governor of Pennsylvania, became involved in \nthe Conway cabal ; and Eeed, the General's secretary and most \ntrusted friend, became at one time so doubtful of the success of \nthe American arms, that he is said to have received a British pro- \ntection. But Eeed's patriotism Avas proof against a most artful \nattempt to bribe liim through the agency of a beautiful woman. \nWhen assured of her purpose, he addressed her in these words : \n\" I am not worth purchasing, but such as I am, the king of \nGreat Britain is not rich enough to do it.\" \n\nTrumbull, the painter, who Avas made an aid in the early \ndays of the siege, confesses his inability to sustain the exigencies \nof his position. He relates that the scene at headquarters Avas \naltogether new and strange to him. \n\n\" I now,\" he says, \" found myself in the family of one of the most \ndistinguished men of the age, surrounded -at his table by the princi- \npal officers of the army, and in constant intercourse Avith them ; it \nAvas further my duty to receive company and do the honors of the \nhouse to many of the first people of the country of both sexes. I \nsoon found myself unequal to the elegant duties of my situation, and \nwas gratified when Mr. Edmimd Randolph (afterwards Secretary of \nState) and Mr. Baylor arrived from Virginia, and were named aids- \ndu-camp, to succeed Mr. Mifflin and myself.\" \n\n\n300 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nGeorge Baylor, who Washington said was no penman, hav- \ning expressed a desire to go into the artillery with Knox, the \nGeneral appointed Moylan and Palfrey to fill the places of the \nformer and of Randolph, who was obliged to leave Cambridge \nsuddenly on his own affairs. Baylor is the same officer who, \nas colonel of dragoons, was surprised and made prisoner by \nGeneral Grey at Tappan, Avith the loss of the greater part of \nhis men inhumanly butchered while demanding quarter. Moy- \nlan, a gay, rollicking Irishman, was appointed commissary-gen- \neral, — a place he soon left for the line. Harrison, who succeeded \nReed as secretary, lacked grasp for his multifarious duties, \nthough he continued in the staff until 1781. David Hum- \nphreys, the soldier-poet, was, for his gallantry at Yorktown, \nselected to carry the captured standards to Congress, as Baylor \nhad carried the news of victory at Trenton, — Humphreys had \nfirst been aid to Putnam. Alexander Hamilton, who served \nWashington as a member of his military family with singular \nability, left the General in anger on account of a scolding he \nhad received from him for some delay in sending off despatches \nat Yorktown. Tench Tilghman was a dashing cavalier and \nan excellent scribe. He served Washington nearly five years, \nduring which he was in every action in Avhich the main \narmy was engaged. General Lloyd Tilghman, a descendant, \nwho fought on the Confederate side in the late war, was cap- \ntured at Fort Henry, and confined for some time at Fort War- \nren, in Boston harbor. At the festival of the Society of the \nCincinnati in 1872, a representative of the Patriot officer was \npresent. \n\nWhile loitering in the apartments devoted to official business, \nit may not be uninteresting to refer to the chixography of the \nleaders of the Continental army, most of whom handled the \nsword and pen equally well. Washington's characters were \nlarge, round, and never appear to have been penned in haste. \nKnox wrote indifferently when he entered the army, but his \nhand soon became straggling and difficult to decipher, his mind \nbeing so much more active than his pen that his MS. is filled \nwith interlineations. Greene wTote a fair, clear, running-hand j \n\n\na \n\n\n—1 \n\n\nn \n\n\"A \n\n\n■A \n\ny. \n\n\nHP.ADQLfAETERS OF THE ARMY. 301 \n\nhis language couched in good, terse plirase. Wayne, far from \nbeing the boor that Andre's epic makes him, not only held a \nfluent, but a graphic pen, as witness his despatch : — \n\n\" Stoney Point, 16tli July, 1779, — 2 o'clock, a. m. \n\" Dear General, — The fort and garrison, with Colonel Johnston, \nare ours. Our officers and men behaved like men who are deter- \nmined to be free. Yours most sincerelj^ \n\n\" Ant^ Wayne.\" \n\nGates wrote a handsome, round hand ; so did Schuyler, St. \nClair, Sullivan, and Stirling. Lee took rather more care of his \nhandwriting than of his dress ; his characters are bold and \nlegible. Lafayette wrote like a Frenchman. Steuben's and \nChastellux's were rather an improvement on Lafayette's diminu- \ntive strokes. \n\nWhatever may be said of Washington's Fabian policy, it is \ncertain the pugnacious element was not wanting in his charac- \nter. He wished to carry Boston by assault, but was overruled \nby his council ; he Avished to fight at Germantown, with an \narmy just beaten ; and again at Monmouth against the advice \nof a council of war, with Lee at its head. In the latter battle, \nwhere he Avas more than half defeatad, disaster became victory \nunder Ms eye and voice. Here he is said to have been fear- \nfully aroused, appearing in an unwonted and terrible aspect. \nAn eyewitness of one of those rare but awful phenomena, a \nburst of ungovernable Avrath from Washington, related that on \nseeing the misconduct of General Lee, he lost all control of \nhimseK, and, casting his hat to the ground, stamped upon it in \nhis rage. \n\n\" In every heart \nAre sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; \nOccasion needs but fan them and they blaze.\" \n\nThis battle has always reminded us of Marengo, where De- \nsaix, arriving on the field to find the French army beaten and \nretreating, calmly replied to the question of the First Consul, \n\" The battle is lost ; but it is only two o'clock, we have time \nto gain another.\" But Lee was not Desaix, and the chief, not \nthe lieutenant, saved the day. Lafayette always said Washing- \nton was superb at Monmouth. \n\n\n302 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nAnother incident, perfectly authentic, exhibits Wasliington's \npersonal magnetism and prowess. It is related that one morn- \ning Colonel Glover came in haste to headquarters to announce \nthat his men were in a state of mutiny. On the instant the \nGeneral arose, and, mounting his horse, which was always kept \nready saddled, rode at full gallop to the mutineers' camp, ac- \ncompanied by Glover and Hon. James Sullivan. Washington, \narrived on the spot, found himself in presence of a riot of seri- \nous proportions between the Marblehead fishermen and Mor- \ngan's Eiflemen. The Yankees ridiculed the strange attire and \nbizarre appearance of the Virginians. Words were followed by \nblows, until an indescribable uproar, produced by a thousand \ncombatants, greeted the appearance of the General. He had \nordered his servant, Pompey, to dismount and let down the \nbars which closed the entrance to the camp ; this the negro was \nin the act of doing, when the General, spurring his horse, leaped \nover Pompey's head, cleared the bars, and dashed among the \nrioters. \" The General threw the bridle of his horse into his \nservant's hands, and, rushing into the thickest of the fight, \nseized two tall, brawny riflemen by the throat, keeping them \nat arm's length, talking to and shaking them.\" His command- \ning presence and gestures, together with the great physical \nstrength he displayed, — for he held the men he had seized as \nincapable of resistance as babes, — caused the angry soldiers to \nfall back to the right and left. Calling the officers around him, \nwith their aid the riot was quickly suppressed. The General, \nafter giving orders appropriate to prevent the recurrence of \nsuch an affair, cantered away from the field, leaving officers and \nmen alike astonished and charmed with what they had vnt- \nnessed. \" You have both a Howe and a Clinton in your \narmy,\" said a British officer to a fair rebel. \" Even so ; but \nyou have no Washington in yours,\" w& the reply. \n\nOn the occasion when Colonel Patterson, Howe's adjutant- \ngeneral, brought to Washington at New York the letter ad- \ndressed to \" George Washington, Esq., &c., &c.,\" an officer who \nwas present at the interview says his Excellency was very \nhandsomely dressed and made a most elegant appearance. \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 303 \n\nPatterson appeared awe-struck, and every other word with liini \nwas \" may it please your Excellency,\" or \" if your Excellency \nplease.\" After considerable talk on the subject of the letter, \nthe Colonel asked, \" Has your Excellency no particular com- \nmands with which you would please to honor me to Lord \nand General Howe V \"Nothing but my particular compli- \nments to both,\" replied the General, and the conference closed. \n\nOf his generals, Washington's relations with Knox were the \nmost iiiftimate and confidential. Lafayette fuUy shared in the \nfeelings of love and veneration with which Knox, regarded his \nhero. The appointment of ]\\Iad Anthony to command the \narmy against the Northwestern Indians showed that the Presi- \ndent had great confidence in his courage and ability. Greene \nwas thought to have possessed greater influence in the councils \nof the general-in-chief than any other of his captains. None \nother of the superior officers appear to have stood on as familiar \na footing as these. St. Clair was a Scotsman, Montgomery an \nIrishman, as was also General Conway, while Lee and Gates \nwere Englishmen by birth. \n\nIt is not a little surprising that in our republican army there \nshould have been an officer born on our soil who not only \nclaimed the title to an earldom, but also to be addressed as \n\" My Lord \" by his brother officers. He signed himself sim- \nply \" Stirling.\" A bon vivant, he was accused of liking the \nbottle fully as much as became a lord, and more than became \na general. On convivial occasions he was fond of fighting his \nbattles over. \n\nOne of Stirling's daughters, Lady Kitty, made a private mar- \nriage with Colonel William Duer, who acted so noble a part \nduring the memorable cabal in Congress to elevate Gates to the \nchief command. Lady Kitty kept her secret so well that even \nher father's most intim..te friends were not informed of it, and \nwhen Colonel Duer stated that he was married he was supposed \nto be jesting, until it was announced that the pair had passed \nthe night together at the house of a friend. \n\nLafayette always kept a huge bowl of grog on his table for \nall comers. Despite liis deep red hair, he was one of the finest- \n\n\n304 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nlooking men in the army. His forehead was good, though re- \nceding ; his eyes hazel ; his mouth and chin delicately formed, \nexliibiting heauty rather than strength. His carriage was \nnoble, his manner frank and winning. He never wore powder, \nbut in later years became quite bald and wore a Avig. \n\nThe Marcliioness was not critically handsome, but had an \nagreeable face and figure, and was a most amiable woman. \nMademoiselle and Master George were considered in their youth \nfine children, and the friends of the Marquis thought he made \na great sacrifice of domestic happiness in espousing the cause \nof our country as warmly as he did. His son, George \"Wash- \nington Lafayette, who was confided to a Bostonian's care dur- \ning one of the stormy periods of his father's career after his \nreturn to France, accompanied the Marquis to America in 1824, \nand died at La Grange in 1849. \n\nCount Rochambeau could not speak a word of English, nor \ncould the brothers, Baron and Viscount Viomenil, the Mar- \nquis Laval, or Count Saint Maime. The two Counts Deux \nPonts, on the other hand, spoke pretty well, while General \nChastellux had fully mastered the language. During the stay \nof the French at Newport, an invitation to the petites soupers \nof the latter officer was eagerly welcomed by intelligent Ameri- \ncans. \n\nIt has been said there is not a proclamation of Napoleon to \nhis soldiers in which glory is not mentioned and duty forgot- \nten ; there is not an order of Wellington to his troops in which \nduty is not inculcated, nor one in which glory is even alluded \nto. Washington's orders contain appeals to the patriotism, \nlove of country, and nobler impulses of his soldiers. He re- \nbuked profligacy, immorality, and kindred vices in scathing \nterms ; he seldom addressed his army that he did not confess \nhis dependence on that Supreme guidance which the two pre- \nceding illustrious examples ignored. \n\nIn this study probably assembled the councils of war, at \nwhich we may imagine the General standing with his back to \nthe cavernous fireplace, his brow thoughtful, his lips compressed \nbeyond their wont, while the glowing embers paint fantastic \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 305 \n\npictures on the wainscot, or cast weird shadows of the tall figure \nalong the floor. Around the board arc Ward, Lee, and Put- \nnam in the places of honor, with Thomas, Heath, Greene, Sul- \nlivan, Spencer, and Knox in the order of rank. If the subject \nwas momentous, or not finally disposed of to his satisfaction in \nthe council, it was Washington's custom to require a written \nopinion from each of the generals. \n\nOpposite the study, on your left as you enter, is the recep- \ntion-room, in which Mrs. Washington, who arrived in Cam- \nbridge at about the same time as the news of the capture of \nMontreal, — twin events which gladdened the General's heart, \n— received her guests. These, we may assume, included all the \nfamilies of distinction, either resident or who came to visit their \nrelations in camp. On the day of the battle of Bunker Hill \nthe untoward and afflicting scenes so affected one delicate, sen- \nsitive organization that the lady became deranged, and died in \na few months. This was the Avife of Colonel, afterwards Gen- \neral, Huntington. \n\nBut the gloomy aspect was not always uppermost, and gayety \nperhaps prevailed on one side of the hall, while matters of \ngrave moment were being despatched on the other. It would \nnot be too great a flight of fancy to imagine the lady of the \nhousehold looking over the list of her. dinner invitations while \nher lord was signing the sentence of a court-martial or the \norder to open fire on the beleaguered town. Mrs. Washington \nentered tliis house on the 11th December, 1775, having for the \ncompanions of her journey from Yirginia Mrs. Gates, John \nCustis and lady, and George Lewis. The General's wife had \nvery fi:ie dark hair. A portion of her wedding dress is higlily \nprized by a lady resident in Boston, while a shoe possessed by \nanother gives assurance of a small, delicate foot. \n\nWe pass into the dining-room, in which have assembled many \nof the most distinguished military, civil, and literary characters \nof our country. Washington's house steward was Ebenezer Aus- \ntin, who had been recommended to him by the Provincial Com- \nmittee. Mrs. GoodAvin of Charlestown, the mother of Ozias \nGoodwin, a well-known merchant of Boston, was his house- \n\n\n306 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nkeeper; she had been rendered homeless by the destruction \nof Charlestown. The General had a French cook and black \nservants, — then as common in Massachusetts as in the Old \nDominion. \n\nThe General breakfasted at seven o'clock in the summer and \nat eight in the winter. He dined at two, and drank tea early \nin the evening ; supper he eschewed altogether. His breakfast \nAvas very frugal, and at this meal he drank tea, of which he was \nextremely fond. He dined well, but was not difficult to please \nin the choice of his viands. There were usually eight or ten \nlarge dishes of meat and pastry, with vegetables, folloAved by a \nsecond course of pastry. After the removal of the cloth the \nladies retired, and the gentlemen, as was then the fashion, par- \ntook of wine. Madeira, of which he drank a couple of glasses \nout of silver camp cups, was the General's favorite wine. \n\nWashington sat long at table. An officer who dined with \nhim says the repast occupied two hours, during which the Gen- \neral was toasting and conversing all the time. One of his aides \nwas seated every day at the bottom of the table, near the Gen- \neral, to serve the company and distribute the bottles. \"Wash- \nington's mess-chest, camp equipage, and horse equipments were \ncomplete and elegant ; he broke all his own horses. \n\nApropos of the General's sti^d, he had two favorite horses, \n— one a large, elegant chestnut, high-spirited and of gallant \ncarriage, which had belonged to the British army ; the other \na sorrel, and smaller. This was the horse he always rode in \nbattle, so that whenever the General was seen to mount him \nthe word ran through the ranks, \" We have business on hand.\" \nWashington came to Cambridge in a light phaeton and pair, \nbut in his frequent excursions and reconnoitring expeditions he \npreferred the saddle, for he was an admirable horseman. Billy, \nthe General's black groom and favorite body-servant, has be- \ncome an historical character. \n\nIn order that nothing may be wanting to complete the in-door \nlife in this old mansion in 1775 and 1776, we append a dinner \ninvitation, such as was issued daily, merely cautioning the \nreader that it is not the production of the General, but of one \nof his family : — \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 307 \n\n\" The General & Mrs Washington present their compliments to \n\nCol? Knox & Lady, begs the favor of their company at dinner on \n\nFriday haK after 2 o'clock \n\n\" Thursday Evening Feby 1st.\" \n\nAmong other notables Avho sat at the General's board in this \nroom was Franklin, when he came to settle \"with his fellow- \ncommissioners, Hon. Thomas Lynch of Carolina, and Benjamin \nHarrison of Virginia, the new establishment of the Continental \narmy. General Greene, who was presented to the philosopher \non the evening of his arrival, says : — \n\n\" I had the honor to be introduced to that very great man, Doctor \nFranklin, whom I viewed with silent admiration dm-ing the whole \nevening. Attention watched his lips, and conviction closed his \nperiods.\" \n\nWe do not know whether grace was habitually said at the \nGeneral's table or not, but the great printer would have will- \ningly dispensed with it. It is related, as illustrative of the \neminently practical turn of his mind, that he one day aston- \nished that devout old gentleman, his father, by asking, \"Father, \nwhy don't you say grace at once over the whole barrel of flour \nor pork, instead of doing so three times a day ? \" Neither his- \ntory nor tradition has preserved the resj^ectable tallow-chan- \ndler's reply. \n\nThe first steps taken by, Washington to form a body-guard \nwere in orders of the 11th of March, 1776, by which the com- \nmanding officers of the regiments of the established army \nwere directed to furnish four men each, selected for their \nhonesty, sobriety, and good beha\\'ior. The men were to be \nfrom five feet eight to live feet ten inches in height, hand- \nsomely and well made, and, as the General laid great stress \nupon cleanhness in the soldier, he requested that partic- \nular attention might be paid to the choice of such as were \n\"neat and spruce.\" The General stipulated that the can- \ndidates for his guard should be drilled men, and perfectly \nwilling to enter upon this new duty. They were not re- \nquired to bring either arms or uniform, which indicates the \n\n\n308 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nFLAG OF THE BODY-GUAKD. \n\n\nGeneral's intention to newly arm and clothe his guard. This \nwas the origin of the celebrated corjys d' elite. \n\nCaleb Gibbs of \nRhode Island was \nthe first commander \nof the Life Guard. \nHe had been adjutant \nof Glover's regiment, \nand must have rec- \nommended himself \nto the commander-in- \nchief After the war \nhe resided in Boston, \nand was made naval \nstore-keeper, with an \noffice in Battery- \nmarch Street. \n\nWashington took his departure from the Vassall house be- \ntween the 4th and 10th of April, 1776, for New York. On \nthe 4th he wrote from Cambridge to the president of Congress, \nand on the 11th he was at New Haven en roitte to New York. \nOn the occasion of his third visit to Boston, in 1789, he again \npassed through Cambridge and stopped about an hour at his \nold headquarters. He then received a military salute from the \nMiddlesex militia, who were drawn up on Cambridge Common \nwith General Brooks at their head. \n\nThe next person to claim our attention is Nathaniel Tracy, \nwho became the proprietor after the war. He kept up the tra- \nditions of the mansion for hospitality, though we doubt whether \nhis servants ever drank choice wines from pitchers, as has been \nstated. Tracy was from Newburyport, where, with his brother, \nhe had carried on, under the firm name of Tracy, Jackson, and \nTracy, an immense business in privateering. Martin Brimmer \nwas their agent in Boston. He fitted out the first private \narmed vessel that sailed from an American port, and during the \nwar was the principal owner of more than a score of cruisers, \nwhich inflicted great loss upon the enemy's marine. The follow- \n\n\nHEADQUARTEES OF THE ARMY. 309 \n\ning extract will enable the reader to form a correct estimate of \nthe hazard with Avhich this business was conducted : — \n\n\" At the end of 1777 his brother and he had lost one and forty \nships, and with regard to himself he had not a ray of hope but m \na single letter of marque of eight guns, of which he had received no \nnews. As he was walking one day with his brother, discussing with \nhim how they should procui-e the means of subsistence for their \nfamilies, they perceived a sail making for the harbor, which fortu- \nnately proved a prize worth £ 20,000 sterling. \n\n\" In 1781 he lent the State of Massachusetts five thousand pomids \nto clothe their troops, with no other security than the receipt of the \nState Treasurer.\" \n\nMr. Tracy was generous and patriotic. Benedict Arnold was \nhis guest while preparing to embark his troops for the Kenne- \nbec in 1775. He had entertained in 1782, at his mansion at \nNewburyport, M. de Chastellux and his aides, Isidore Lynch, \nDe Montesquieu, and Tallejo-and the younger. The Frenchmen \ncould manage his good old Madeira and Xeres, but the home- \nbrewed punch, which was always at hand in a huge punch- \nbowl, proved too much for De Montesquieu and Talleyrand, \nwho succumbed and were carried drunk to bed. \n\nTracy went to France in 1784, where he met with due re- \nturn for his former civilities from Viscount Noailles and some \nof his old guests. In 1 789, Avhen again a resident of Newbury- \nport, he received Washington, then on his triumphal tour ; and \nin 1824 Lafayette, following in the footsteps of his illustrious \ncommander, slept in the same apartment he had occupied. \n\nNext comes Thomas Russell, a Boston merchant-prince, ac- \ncredited by the vulgar with having once eaten for his breakfast \na sand'wich made of a hundred-dollar note and two slices of \nbread. \n\nFollowing Thomas Eussell came, in March, 1791, Dr. An- \ndrew Craigie, late apothecary-general to the Continental army, \nin which service it is reported he amassed a very large fortune. \nFor the estate, then estimated to contain one hundred and fifty \nacres, and including the house of Harry Vassall, — designated \nas that of Mr. Batchelder, but then occupied by Frederick Geyer, \n\n\n310 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n— Mr. Craigie gave £ 3,750 lawful money, — a sum so small \nill comparison with its value that our reader will pardon us for \nmentioning it. \n\nCraigie was at Bunker Hill, and assisted in the care of the \n■wounded there. He was at Cambridge during the siege of \nBoston, and doubtless dispensed his nostrums liberally, for \nphysic was the only tiling of which the army had enough, if \nwe may credit concurrent testimony. He was with the North- \nern army, under General Gates, in 1777 and 1778, and was the \nconfidant of Wilkinson, Gates's adjutant-general, in his corre- \nspondence \"with Lord Stirling, growing out of the Conway im- \nbrogUo. Craigie was a director and large proprietor in the \ncompany which built the bridge connecting East Cambridge with \nBoston, to Avhicli his name was given. After his decease his \nAvidow continued to reside here. \n\nCraigie entertained two very notable guests in this house. \nOne of them was Talleyrand, the evil genius of Napoleon, who \nsaid of him that he always treated his enemies as if they were \none day to become his friends, and his friends as if they were \none day to become his enemies. \" A man of talent, but venal \nin everything.\" The world has long expected the private me- \nmoirs of this remarkable personage, but the thirty years which \nthe prince stipulated in his will should first elapse proved too \nshort for his executors. Without doubt, the private corre- \nspondence of Talleyrand would make a record of the most \nstartling character, and give an insight into the lives of his \ncontemporaries that might reverse the views of the world in \ngeneral in regard to some of them. Few dared to fence with \nthe caustic minister. \" Have you read my book ? \" said Madame \nde Stael to the prince, whom she had there made to play a part \nas well as herself. \" No,\" replied Talleyrand; \" but I under- \nstand we both figure in it as women.\" \n\nIn December, 1794, the Duke of Kent, or Prince Edward as \nhe was styled, was in Boston, and %vas received during his \nsojourn with marked attention. He was then in command of \nthe forces in Canada, but afterwards joined the expedition, \nunder Sir Charles Grey, to the French West Indies, where he \n\n\nHEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY. 311 \n\nSO greatly distinguished himself by his reckless bravery at the \nstorming of Martinique and Guadaloupe that the flank division \nwhich he commanded became the standing toast at the admiral's \nand commander-in-chief's table. The Duke was a perfect mar- \ntinet, and was so unpopular with the regiment he commanded \nunder O'Hara, at Gibraltar, that it repeatedly mutinied. He \nwas the father of Queen Victoria. \n\nThe prince was accompanied to Boston by his suite. He was \nvery devoted to the ladies, especially so to Mrs. Thomas Rus- \nsell, whom he attended to the Assembly at Concert Hall. He \ndanced four country-dances with his fair companion, but she \nfainted before finishing the last, and he danced with no one \nelse, at which every one of the other eighty ladies present was \nmuch em-aged. At the British Consul's, where the prince held \na levee, he was introduced to the widow of a British officer. \nHer he saluted, while he only bowed to the other ladies pres- \nent, which gave rise to feelings of no pleasant nature in gentle \nbreasts. It was well said by one who knew the circumstance, \nthat had his Highness settled a pension on the young widow \nand her children it would indeed have been a princely salute. \nThe prince visited Andrew Craigie. He drove a handsome pair \nof bays with clipped ears, then an unusual sight in the vicinity \nof Old Boston. \n\nIn October, 1832, Mr. Sparks married Miss Frances Anne \nAllen, of New York, and in April, 1833, he began house- \nkeeping in the Craigie house. He Avas at this time engaged on \nhis \" Writings of George \"Washington,\" and notes in his journal \nunder the date of AprQ 2 : — \n\n\" This day, began to occupy Mrs. Craigie's house in Cambridge. \nIt is a singular circumstance that, while I am engaged in preparing \nfor the press the letters of General Washington which he wTote at \nCambridge after taking command of the American army, I should \noccupy the same rooms that he did at that time.\" * \n\nEdward Everett, whose efforts in behalf of the Mount Vernon \nfund associate his name with our memorials of Washington, \n* Rev. Dr. Ellis's Memoir. \n\n\n312 . HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nresided here just after his marriage, and while still a professor \nin the University of which he became president. WLUard, \nPhillips, and Joseph Emerson Worcester, the lexicographer, \nalso lived in the house we are describing. \n\nWe now return to Mr. Longfellow, who became an inmate \nof the house in 1837, with Mrs. Craigie for his landlady. The \nHarvard professor, as he then was, took possession of the south- \neast chamber, which has been mentioned as Washington's. In \nthis room were written \" Hyperion \" and \" Voices of the \nNight,\" and to its inspiration perhaps we owe the lines, — \n\n\" Lives of great men all remind us \nWe may make our lives sublime, ■ \nAnd, departing, leave beliind lis \nFootprints on the sands of time.\" \n\nNearly all of Longfellow's productions, except \" Coplas de \nManrique \" and \" Outre Mer,\" which were written at Bruns- \nwick, have been penned in the old VassaU homestead. \n\nIt is related that one day, after patiently exhibiting his grand \nold mansion to a knot of visitors, to whose many questions he \nreplied with perfect good-humor, the poet was about to close \nthe door on the party, when the leader and spokesman accosted \nhim with the startling question, — \n\n\" Can you tell me who lives in this house now ? \" \n\n\" Yes, sir, certainly. I live here.\" \n\n\" What name 1 \" \n\n\"Longfellow.\" \n\n\" Any relation to the Wiscasset Longfellers 1 \" \n\nThis house will ever be chiefly renowned for its associations \nwith the Father of his Country, and when it is gone the spot \nwill still be cherished in loving remembrance. Yet some pil- \ngrims there will be who will come to pay tribute to the literary \nmemories that cluster around it ; soldiers who conquer with the \npen's point, and on whose banners are inscribed the watchword, \n\" Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war.\" \n\n\nOLD TOKY KOW AND BEYOND. \n\n\n313 \n\n\nCHAPTEE XIV. \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. \n\n\" Damned neuters, in their middle way of steering, \nAre neither fish nor flesh, nor good red herring.\" \n\n\nDrtden. \n\n\nTHE house standing at the corner of Brattle and Sparks \nStreets, almost concealed from ■N'iew by a group of giant, \nsweet-scented Lindens, has replaced the one formerly occupy- \ning that site, now removed farther up the street. The old, \ntwo-storied house, seen in our view, has been bodily raised \n\n\nfrom its foundations, on the shoulders of a more youthful \nprogeny, as if it were anxious to keep pace with the growth of \nthe trees in its front, and still overlook its old landscape. \n\nOf about the same length of years as its neighbor which we \nhave but now^ left, this house was in ante-Revolutionary times \nfirst the abode of Richard Lechmere, and later of Jonathan \nSewall, — royalists both. To the former, a Boston distiller, \nwe have already alluded ; but the latter may well claim a \npassing notice. He belonged to one of the old distinguished \nfamilies of Massachusetts, and was himself a man of very \n14 \n\n\n314 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nsuperior abilities. He was the intimate friend and associate of \nJohn Adams, and endeavored to dissuade him from embarking \nin the cause of his country. To Sewall, Adams addressed the \nmemorable words, as they walked on the Great Hill at Port- \nland, \" The die is now cast ; I have now passed the Rubicon : \nswim or sink, live or die, survive or perish, with my country is \nmy unalterable determination.\" \" Jonathan and John \" again \nmet in London, — tlie former a broken-down, disappointed man ; \nthe latter ambassador of his country at the very court upon \nM'hose niggardly bounty the loyaHst had depended. Sewall \ncame to Nova Scotia, where he had been appointed Judge of \nAdmiralty. He married Esther, the sister of Dorothy Quincy, \nwife of Governor Hancock. Sewall's house was mobbed in \nSeptember, 1774, and he was forced to flee into Boston. Old \nMacFingal asks, — \n\n, \" Wlio made that wit of water gruel \nA judge of Admiralty, Sewall ? \" \n\nSewall's house was at length assigned to General Eiedesel as \nhis quarters. His accomplished lady has left a souvenir of her \nsojourn, in her autograph, cut with a diamond on the pane of \na west window, though we ought, perhaps, to say that the sig- \nnature is considered as the General's by his biographer. Un- \nfortunately, in removing the glass from the sash the pane was \nbroken, an accident much regretted by Mr. Brewster, the \npresent owner of the premises. \n\nHere the Germans enjoyed a repose after the vicissitudes \nthey had undergone,- and in which we hardly know how suffi- \nciently to admire the fortitude and devotion of the Baroness. \nThe beautiful lindens were a souvenir of the dear Ehin eland, \n— not unworthy, indeed, to adorn even the celebrated prome- \nnade of Berhn. The Baroness frankly admits that she never \nwas in so delightful a place, but the feeling that they were \nprisoners made her agreeable surroundings still echo the words \nof old Pdchard Lovelace : — \n\n\" Stone walls do not a prison make, \nNor iron bars a cage.\" \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. 315 \n\nThey had balls and parties, and duly celebrated the king's \nbirthday. All the generals and officers, British and German, \ncame here often, except Burgoyne, between whom and Riedesel \na coolness existed. When Phillips was put under arrest Gen- \neral Heath recognized Eiedesel ascliief in command. Madame \nRiedesel had here an opportunity of returning the civilities of \nGeneral Schuyler in a measure, by attentions to his daughter, \nwho had married a gentleman named Church, and who, for \nreasons of his own, hved in Boston under the assumed name of \nCarter. Church was an Englishman, of good family, Avho had \nbeen unfortunate in business in London. He came to America, \nbecame a good whig, and, in connection with Colonel Wads- \nworth of Connecticut, secured a principal share of the contract \nfor supplying the French troops in our service. After the peace \nhe returned to England. \n\nThe uniform of the Germans was blue, faced with yellow, \nwhich came near causing some awkward mistakes Avhere they \nwere engaged. The poet describes the enemy's battle-array at \nMonmouth in this wise : — \n\n\" Britons with Germans foi-med apart for fight, \nThe left wing rob'd in blue, in red the right.\" \n\nThe Baroness relates that she found Boston pretty, but in- \nhabited by violent, wicked people. The women, she says, \nregarded her with repugnance, and were even so shameless as \nto spit at her when she passed by them. She also accuses \n\" that miserable Carter\" of having proposed to the Americans \nto chop off the heads of the generals, British and German, salt \nthem down in barrels, and send one over to the Ministry for \nevery hamlet or to-v^oi burned by the king's forces. Madam the \nbaroness, it appears, was not less credulous than some foreign \nwriters that have appeared since her day. \n\nThe way in which the German contingent saved their colors \nafter the surrender of Saratoga is worthy of mention. The flags \nwere not given up on the day when the troops piled their arms, \nas the treaty required, but were reported to have been burnt. \nThis was considered, and in fact was, a breach of military faith, \n\n\n316 HISTOHIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbut, being supposed to have occurred through the pardonable \nchagrin of veterans who chmg to the honor of their corps, was \noverlooked. Only the staves, however, were burned, the flags \nbeing concealed with such care by General Eiedesel that even \nhis wife did not know of it until the Convention troops were \nordered to Virginia, when the Baroness sewed the flags in a \nmattress, which was passed into the enemy's lines at New York \namong the eff\"ects of an officer. \n\nThe next of the seven families which Madame Riedesel men- \ntions as forming the exclusive royalist coterie of Old Cambridge \nwas that of Judge Joseph Lee, whose house is still standing, \nnot far from that of Mr. Brewster's, in our progress towards the \nsetting sun. \n\nThis house has the reputation of being the oldest in Cam- \nbridge, although another situated on Linnfean Street may, we \nthink, dispute the palm with it. Evidently the building now \nappears much changed from its primitive aspect, both in re- \nspect to size and distinctive character. Externally there is \nnothing of the Puritan type of architecture, except the huge \ncentral chimney-stack, looking as if the very earth had borne \nit up with difficulty, for its outline appears curved where its \nbulk has settled unequally. The west end is of rough-cast, \nand the whole outward structure as unsesthetic and austere as \npossible. \n\nJudge Lee Avas a loyalist of a moderate stamp, who remained \nin Boston during the siege. He was permitted to return to \nCambridge, and ended his days in his antique old mansion \nin 1802. \n\nThe large square house at the corner of Fayerweather Street \nis comparatively modern, belonging to the period of about 1740- \n50, when we find a large proportion of the mansions of the Colo- \nnial gentry sprang up, under the influence of rich harvests from \nthe French War, which gave our merchant princes an opportu- \nnity of thrusting their hands pretty deeply into the exchequer \nof Old England. Captain George Ruggles owned the estate in \nShirley's time, but before the Revolution it became the resi- \ndence of Thomas Fayerweather, for whom the street is named. \n\n\nfe \n\n\nOLD TORY KOW AND BEYOND. 317 \n\nThe house passed into the possession of William Wells, in \n■whose family it still remains. \n\nHaving brought the reader a considerable distance from our \npoint of departure, we at length come to a halt and consult our \nguide-book of only fifty odd years ago. It tells us we have \narrived at \" the cross road south of the late Governor Gerry's, \nnow Eev. Charles Lowell's, seat.\" This is Elmwood, the resi- \ndence of James Eussell Lowell. \n\nIt is a pleasure to happen upon an old Colonial estate retain- \ning so much of its former condition as this. It embodies more \nof the idea of the country-house of a provincial magnate than is \neasily supplied to the limited horizons and scanty areas of some \nof our old acquaintances. The splendid grove of pines is a \nreminiscence of the primitive forest ; the noble elms have given \na name to the compact old mansion-house and its remaining \nacres ; and there are still the old barn and outbuildings, with \nthe remnant of the ancient orchard. It is easy to see that the \npoet's pride Avas in his trees, and one lordly elm, seen from his \nlibrary window, is worthy to be remembered with Milton's \nMulberry or Luther's Linden. The grounds in front of the \nhouse are laid out in accordance with modern taste, but at the \nback the owner may ramble at will in paths aU guiltless of \nthe gardener's art, and imagine himself threading the solitudes \nof some rural glade remote from the sights and sounds of the \ntown. \n\nOf old the road, like a huge serpent, enveloped the estate in \nits folds as it passed by the front of the house, and again \nstretched along the ancient settlement of Watertown where \nwere its first humble cottages, its primitive church, and its \nburial-place. It is almost in sight of the spot, now the vicinity \nof the Arsenal, where the English landed by Captain Squeb at \nNantasket, in May, 1630, made their way up Charles River, \nand bivouacked in the midst of savages. Sir Richard Salton- \nstall's supposed demesne is still pointed out in the neighbor- \nhood, and at every step you meet with some memorial of the \nfounders. According to old town boundaries, the estate of which \nwe are writing was wliolly in Watertown, and extended its \n\n\n318 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nfifteen acres quite to Fresh Pond, on the north ; it is now \nwithin the hmits of Cambridge. \n\n' It has often been stated that this house was built by Colov \nnel Thomas Oliver (of whom anon) about 1760 ; but as the \nestate was only leased by him until the year 1770, when he \nacquired the title by purchase of the heirs of John Stratton, of \nWatertown, we do not give full credence to the assertion. The \nhouse is older in appearance, both without and within, than its \nusually assumed date of construction would warrant. More- \nover, in the conveyance to Oliver the messuage itself is named. \n\nThe house is of wood, of three stories, and is, in itself, \nwithout any distinctive marks except as a type of a now obso- \nlete style of architecture. A suit of yellow and white paint \nhad freshened the exterior, as the powder of the colonial pro- \nprietor might have once rejuvenated his wrinkled countenance. \nThe tall trees bend their heads in continual obeisance to the \nmansion, like so many aged servitors ranged around their \nmaster. Inwardly the woodwork is plain, and destitute of the \nelaborate enrichment seen in Mr. Longfellow's. As you went \nin, when Mr. Lowell occupied the house, you saw the walls \nwere covered with ancestral portraits and with quaint old en- \ngravings, rare enovigh to have dated from the birthday of \ncopperplate. An antique bust occupied a niche on the stair- \ncase ; the old clock was there, and in every apartment were \ncollected objects of art or specimens of ancient furniture, which \nseemed always to have belonged there, so perfectly did they \naccord with Avainscot, panel, and cornice. The reception- \nroom was on the south side of the house, with the library \nbehind it. The poet's study, in which nearly all his poems \nhave been written, was on the third floor. \n\nSince Mr. Lowell's death an effort has been making, begun \nby Miss Lucia Ames, to preserve Elmwood for all time, as a \nmemorial of the poet and of his work, after the plan adopted by \nthe Longfellow Memorial Society in securing his favorite out- \nlook. Sufficient funds having been raised to secure the land, \nthe effort is expected to succeed. Taken altogether, Elmwood \nis an earthly paradise to which few would be unwilling to attain, \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. 319 \n\nand M'ere we sure its atmosphei;e were contagious, we could haunt \nthe spot, inhaling deep draughts in its cool and grassy retreats. \nThomas Oliver, the last of the lieutenant-governors under the \ncrown, dwelt here before the Revolution. He belonged to the \nDorchester family, and claimed no relationship with Andrew \nOliver, the stamp-master and successor of Hutchinson as lieu- \ntenant-governor. The Olivers were of Huguenot descent, re- \nnowned in ancient French chivalry, where the family patro- \nnymic, now shortened by a letter, was deemed worthy to be \ncoupled wdth that of a Roland, a Rohan, or a Coligny. Thomas \ninherited a plentiful estate from his grandfather, James Brown, \nand his great-uncle, Robert Oliver, so that his father did not \ndeem it necessary to provide further for him in his will than to \nbequeath some testimonials of affection. \n\nThis dapper little man, as the crown-deputy was called, \npleasant of speech and of courtly manners, was in no public \nofi&ce previous to his appointment under Hutchinson, — a \nchoice so unexpected that it was currently believed that the \nname of Thomas had been inserted by accident in the commis- \nsion instead of that of Peter, the chief justice. But our Machia- \nvelli, who had planned the affair, knew better. \n\nOne fine afternoon in September, 1774, the men of Middle- \nsex appeared in the lieutenant-governor's grounds and wrung \nfrom him a resignation, after which he consulted his safety by \na fiieht into Boston. How bitter to him was this enforced \nsurrender of his ofl&ce, may be gathered from the language in \nwhich it is couched : — \n\n\" My house at Cambridge being surrotmded by four thousand \npeople, in compliance with their commands I sign my name, Thomas \nOliver.\" \n\nThe house was utilized as a hospital after Bunker Hill, the \nopposite field being used as the burying-ground for such as died \nhere. In opening new streets, some of the remains have been \nexhumed, — as many as eight or ten skeletons coming to light \nwithin a limited area. \n\nThe royalist's habitation became the seat of his antipodes, — \n\n\n320 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\na democratic governor, later vice-president, who resided here \nwhile holding these offices. Elbridge Gerry's signature is \naffixed to the Declaration of Independence, and he was one of \nthe three commissioners sent by Mr. Adams to France in 1797. \nHe was chosen by the Provincial Congress, of which he was a \nmember, to attend the Gascon Lee, in liis proposed interview \nwith Burgoyne, who was to the full as bombastic, and who \ndoubtless thought of his former companion in arms, \n\n\" Nay an' thou 'It mouth, \nI '11 rant as well as thou.\" \n\nAs one of the delegates to frame the Federal Constitution at \nPhiladelphia, in 1787, Mr. Gerry refused to sign that instrument, \nand opposed its adoption by the Convention of Massachusetts. \nThe result was for a time doubtful, but when the scale seemed \nto incline in favor of the federalists, Gerry kept close at Cam- \nbridge, and his adherents made no motion for his recall. Han- \n\" cock, by the offer of a tempting prize, — supposed to be no less \nthan the promise of the support of the Massachusetts leaders \nfor the presidency in case Virginia failed to come in, — was in- \nduced to appear and commit lumself in favor of ratification. \nAdams came over, and with the aid of Rufus King, Parsons, \nOtis, and the rest, the measure was carried. This scrap of \nsecret history came to light long afterward. \n\nBut Mr. Gerry will doubtless be recollected as well for the \ncurious political manipulation of the map of Old Massachusetts, \nwhich gave a handle to his name by no means flattering to the \nsensibilities of its owner, and notoriety to one of the most \neffective party caricatures of his time. Briefly, he was the \nmeans of introducing the word \" Gerrymander \" into our politi- \ncal vocabulary. The origin of the name and of the caricature \nhave been subjects of quite warm discussion. \n\nThe democratic or republican party having succeeded in re- \nelecting Mr. Gerry in 1811, with both branches of the Legis- \nlature in their hands, proceeded to divide the State into new \nSenatorial districts, so as to insure a democratic majority in the \nSenate. Hon. Samuel Dana, then President of the Senate, is \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. 321 \n\nconsidered the author of the scheme, which has also been at- \ntril)uted to Joseph Story, Avho was Speaker of the House until \nJanuary 12, 1812, when he resigned. The bill passed both \nbranches early in February, 1812, and received the approval of \nthe governor. Under this new and then audacious arrange- \nment, the counties of Essex and Worcester were carved up in \nsuch a manner as to disregard even the semblance of fairness. \nCounty lines were disregarded and public convenience set at \nnaught, in order to overcome the federal majorities in those \ncounties. \n\nThe singular appearance of the new Essex district, where a \nsingle tier of towns was taken from the outside of the county, \nand Chelsea, in Suffolk, attached, caused a general outcry from \nthe federalists. The remainder of the county Avas completely \nenveloped by this political deformity, which, with its extremi- \nties in the sea at Salisbury, and Chelsea, walled out the remain- \ning towns from the rest of the State. The map of Essex, which \ngave rise to the caricature, was drawn by Nathan Hale, who, \nwith Henry Sedgwick, edited the \" Boston \"Weekly Messenger,\" \nin' which the geographic-political monstrosity first appeared, \nMarch 6, 1812. \n\nAt a dinner-party at Colonel Israel Thorndike's house in \nSummer Street, Boston, — the site of which, previous to the \ngreat fire of 1872, was occupied by Gray's Block, — this map \nwas exhibited and discussed, and its grotesque appearance gave \nrise to the suggestion that it only wanted wings to resemble \nsome fabled monster of antiquity. Upon this Tisdale, the \nartist and miniature-painter, who \"w^as present, took his pencil \nand sketched the wings. The name of Salamander being pro- \nposed, Mr. Alsop, it is said, suggested that of Gerrymander, \nwhich at once Avon the approval of the company ; but it is not \nso clear who has the honor of iuA'enting tliis name, — an honor \nclaimed also for Ben Eussell and Mr. Ogilvie. With this \ndesignation the Gerrymander appeared in the \"Boston Gazette\" \nof March 26, 1812. The artist succeeded in forming a very \ntolerable caricature of Governor Gerry out of the towns of \nAndover, Middleton, and Lynnfield. Salisbury formed the \n14* u \n\n\n322 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nhead and beak of the griffin, Salem and Marhlehead the claws. \nThe design of this famous political caricature has been errone- \nously attributed both to Stuart and to Edward Horsman. \nThe word \" Gerrymander,\" though fully incorporated into our \nlanguage, has but lately found a place in the dictionaries. \n\nUpon the death of Mr. Gerry the property passed into the \npossession of Eev. Charles Lowell, father of the poet, by pur- \nchase from Mrs. Gerry. The new owner greatly improved and \nbeautified the estate, the splendid elms giving it the name of \nElmwood. Dr. Lowell is best remembered as the pastor of the \n\nWest Church in Boston, where more \nthan half a century's service had so \nfully incorporated his name with that \nhistoric edifice that it was long better \nknown as Lowell's than by its ancient \ndesignation. Dr. Lowell succeeded \nE-ev. Simeon Howard, in whose time \nthe dismantled appearance of the West \nChurch gave occasion to a scene not \nusually forming a part of the services. \nAs a couple of Jack Tars were passing by the meeting-house \non a Sunday, observing the remains of the steeple, which was \ncut doAvn by the British troops in the year 1775, \" Stop, Jack,\" \nsays one of them, \" d — n my eyes, but this ship is in distress ; \nshe has struck her topmast. Let 's go on board and lend her a \nhand.\" Upon which they went in, but, finding no assistance \nwas required of them, they sat down until service was ended. \nOn theu- going out they were heard to say, \" Faith, the ship \nwhich we thought was in distress has the ablest pilot on board \nthat we 've seen for many a day.\" \n\nElmwood comprised about thirteen acres, and is separated \nonly by the road from Mount Auburn, where the mould en- \ncloses the remains of two of the poet's children. \n\n\nLOWELL. \n\n\n\" I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn, \nWhere a little headstone stood, \nHow the flakes were folding it gently, \nAs did robins the babes in the wood.\" \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. 32 \n\n\nn \n\n\nJames Russell Lowell, after leaving college, became, in \n1840, a member of the Suffolk bar, and opened an office in \nBoston. In this he was true to the traditions of his family. \nHis grandsire filled the office of United States District Judge \nby the appointment of Washington ; his father studied law first \nand di\"\\dnity afterwards ; while Ms uncle, the \" Boston Eebel\" \nof 1812, was also bred to the bar. From another uncle, Francis \nCabot, the city of Lowell takes its name ; and those delightful \nintellectual feasts, the Lowell lectures, arose from the bounty of \nanother member of this family. Mr. Lowell soon relinquished \nthe law, and his arguments are better known to the world \nthrough the medium of his essays and verse than by the law \nreports. In 1843 Lowell joined with Robert Carter in the \npublication of the \" Pioneer,\" a magazine of brief existence. \nThe broad humor and keen satire of the \" Biglow Papers,\" \nwhich appeared during the Mexican War, are still relished by \nevery class of readers, — the Yankee dialect, now so seldom \nheard in its native richness, giving a piquancy to the language \nand force to the poet's ideas. We have the assertion of a \npopular modern humorist * that his productions made no im- \npression on the public until clothed in the Yankee vernacular, \nso much is the character associated with the idea of original \nmother-wit and shrewd common-sense. \n\n\" Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, \nAll' in amongst 'em rusted \nThe old queen's arm thet gran'tlier Young \n; Fetched back from Concord busted. \" \n\nThe inquiry seems pertinent whether we are not on the eve \nof passing into a period of mediocrity in literature as well as \nof statesmanship. Prescott, Cooper, Irving, Everett, and Haw- \nthorne, Longfellow, Bryant, Lowell, Holmes, and Taylor, \nEmerson, Bancroft, and Motley are no more numbered among \nthe living, and the names of those who are to take their places \nare not yet written. The coming generation will perhaps look \nback upon ours as the Golden Age of American Letters, com- \n\n* Henry W. Shaw (Josh Billings). \n\n\n'324 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nparable only to the Golden Age of Statesmen in the day of \nWebster, Clay, Calhoun, and their contemporary intellectual \ngiants. \n\nAs respects our catalogue of native authors, few, if any, have \never had their pens sharpened by necessity or dipped in the ink \nof privation. Most of them have been endowed with sufficient \nfortunes, gi-avitating naturally into literature, which they have \nenriched, to the great fame of 'American culture at home and \nabroad. Longfellow, it is said, is more read in England than \nany native poet, Tennyson not excepted ; Lowell is also a \nfavorite there ; and the works of Irving, Cooper, and Haw- \nthorne are to be found, in and out of the author's mother \ntongue, in the stalls of London, on the Paris quays, and in the \nshops of Leipsic and Berlin. Perhaps in the multitude of young \nauthors now earning their daily bread in intellectual labor, \nsome may yet rise on the crest of the wave worthy to receive \nthe golden stylus from these honored hands, for in no one re- \nspect is the growth of our country more remarkable than in the \nenlarged and still increasing area of the literary field by the \nmultiplication of vehicles of information. \n\nNearly opposite the Lowell mansion once stood the white \ncottage of Sweet Auburn, some time the home of Caroline \nHoward, who became the wife of Eev. Samuel Gilman, of \nCharleston, in 1819, and is widely known as an authoress of \nrepute. At the age of sixteen she commenced a literary career \nwith her first composition in poetry, \" Jepthah's Rash Yow,\" \nwhich was followed by other efforts in prose and verse: Per- \nhaps her best-known work is the \"Recollections of a Southern \nMatron.\" \n\nMiss Howard was the daughter of Samuel Howard, a ship- \nwright of North Square, Boston. Her father dying in her in- \nfancy, Caroline came to live with her mother at Sweet Auburn, \nwhose wUd beauty impressed her young mind with whatever \nof poetic fire she may have possessed. Indeed, it is her own \nadmission that her childhood days, passed in wandering amid \nthe tangled groves, making rustic thrones and couches of moss, \nstamped her highly imaginative temperament with its subtle \n\n\nOLD TORY ROW AND BEYOND. 325 \n\ninfluences. In girlhood she was fairy-like ; her long oval face, \nfrom which the clustering curls were parted, having a deeply \npeacefully contemplative expression. She was a frequent vis- \nitor at Governor Gerry's, where she found books to feed, if not \nto satisfy, her cravings. Owing to changes of residence, her \neducation was indifferent ; but her mind tended most naturally \nto the beautiful, music and drawing superseding the multipli- \ncation-table. \"When she was about fifteen she walked, every \nweek, four miles to Boston, to take lessons in French. \n\nWe close our chapter, a little out of the order of chronology, \nwith a fragment of revolutionary history, which subtracts noth- \ning from the interest of Elmwood. When, on the twenty- \nfirst of April, about noon, intelligence reached New Haven \nof the Battle of Lexington, the local mUitia company was \nimmediately called out by its captain, Benedict Arnold, and \nforty of its members assented to his proposal to march at once \nto join the American army as volunteers. They left New \nHaven the next day. On the way they passed through Pom- \nfret, and were joined by General Israel Putnam. Arriving \nat Cambridge, they were quartered in the \" splendid mansion \nof Lieutenant-Governor Oliver.\" This was the only company \non the ground completely uniformed and equipped ; and, owing \nto its soldier-like appearance, it was selected to deliver the \nbody of a British officer who had died of wounds received at \nLexington. The company remained three weeks in Cambridge, \nwhen, with the exception of twelve of its number, who accom- \npanied Arnold on his adventurous expedition to Canada, it \nreturned to New Haven. \n\n\n326 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTER XV. \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. \n\n\" Cl'o^vll me witli floweis, intoxicate me with perfumes, let me die to the \nsounds of delicious music.\" — Dying words of Mirabeau. \n\nIT would be curious to analyze the feelings with which a \ndozen different individuals approach a rural cemetery. \nDoubtless repulsion is uppermost in the minds of the greater \nnumber, for death and the grave are but sombre subjects at the \nbest, and few are willingly brought in contact with the outward \nsymbols of the King of Terrors. \n\n\nENTRANCE TO MOUNT AUBURN. \n\n\nMuch of the aversion to graveyards ^^diich is felt by our \ncountry people may be attributed to the hideous and fantastic \nemblems which are sculptured on our ancestors' headstones. \n\n\nMOUNT AUBUKN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 327 \n\nThe death's-head, cross-bones, and hour-glass are but little em- \nployed by modern art. We are making our cemeteries attrac- \ntive, and — shall we confess it 1 — that rivalry displayed along \nthe splendid avenues of the living city finds expression in the \nhabitations of the dead. \n\nThe city of the dead has much in common with its bustling \nneighbor. It has its streets, lanes, and alleys, its aristocratic \nquarter, and its sequestered nooks where the lowlier sleep as \nwell as they that bear the burden of some splendid mausoleum. \nIt has its ordinances, but they are for the living. Here we \nmay end the comparison. Statesmen who in life were at \nenmity lie as quietly here as do those giants who are entombed \nin Westminster Abbey with only sC slight wall of earth between. \nPitt and Fox are separated by eighteen inches. \n\n\" But where afe they — tlie rivals ! a few feet- \nOf sullen earth divide each winding-sheet.\" \n\nAuthors, learned professors, men of science, ministers, soldiers, \nand magistrates people the silent streets. Every trade is repre- \nsented. The rich man, whose wealth has been the envy of \nthousands, takes up his residence here as naked as he came \ninto the world. Sin and suffering are unknown. There is no \njnoney. Night and day are alike to the inhabitants. The dis- \ntant clock strikes the hour, unheeded. Time has ended and \nEternity begun. \n\nPerhaps Franklin expressed the idea of death as beautifully \nas has been done by human lips, to Miss Hubbard on the death \nof his brother. He says : — \n\n\" Our friend and we are invited abroad on a party of pleasure that \nis to last forever. His cliaii- is first read}'^, and he is gone before us, \n— we could not all conveniently start together, and M'hy should you \nand I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and we know \nwhere to find him ? \" \n\nMount Auburn is a miniature Switzerland, though no loftier \nsummits than the Milton Hills are visible from its greatest ele- \nvation. It has its ranges of rugged hills, its cool valleys, its \nlakes, and its natural terraces. The Charles might be the \n\n\n328 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nEhine, and Fresh Pond — could no fitter name be found for \nso lovely a sheet of water 1 — would serve our purpose for Lake \nConstance. A tliick growth of superb forest-trees of singular \nvariety covered its broken, romantic surface ; deep ravines, \nshady dells, and bold, rocky eminences were its natural attri- \nbutes. You advance from surprise to surprise. \n\nArt has softened a little of the savage aspect without impair- \ning its picturesqueness ; has hung a mantle of green tresses \naround the brow of some gray rock, or draped with willows \nand climbing vines each sylvan retreat. The green lawns are \naglow with rich colors, — purple and crimson and gold set in \nemerald. Every clime has been challenged for its contribution, \nand the palm stands beside the pine. \" How beautiful ! \" is the \nthought which even the heavy-hearted must experience as they \npass underneath the massive granite portal into this paradise. \nNature here offers her consolatioi. to the mourner, and man. is, \nafter all, only^/one of the wonderful forms sprtjng from her \nbosom. \n\n\" Lay her i' the earth ; \nAnd from her fair and unpolluted flesh \nMay ^iolets spring ! \" \n\nAs you thread the avenues, the place grows wonderfully upon \nyou. The repugnance you may have felt on entering gives way \nto admiration, until it seems as if the troubles of this Hfe were \nlike to fall from you, with your grosser nature, leaving in their \nstead nothing but peace and calm. Turn into this path which \nsometimes skirts the hillside, and then descends into a secluded \nglade environed with the houses of the dead. Here the work- \nmen are enlarging the interior of a tomb, and the click of chisel \nand hammer vibrates with strange dissonance upon the stdlness \nwhich otherAvise enfolds the place. And one fellow, with no \nfeeHng of his office, is singing as he plies his task ! \n\nWho shall write the annals of this silent city 1 A sarcoph- \nagus on which is sculptured a plumed hat and sword ; a broken \ncolumn or inverted torch ; a dove alighting on the apex of \nyonder tall shaft, or is it not just unfolding its white wings \nfor flight ^ the sacred volume, open and speaking ; a face trans- \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 329 \n\nfigured, witli holy angels flitting about in marble vesture. Here \nin a corner is one little grave, with the myrtle lovingly cluster- \ning above ; and here is no more room, for all the members of \nthe family are at home and sleeping. Each little ridge has its \nstory, but let no human ghoul disturb the slumberer's repose. \n\nPass we on to the tower and up to the battlement. Our \nsimile holds good, for here iii gray granite is a counterfeit of \nsome old feudal castle by the RhiBe. Here we stand, as it \nwere, in an amphitheatre, hedged in by walls whose green \nslowly changes into blue ere they lose themselves where the \nocean lies glistening in the distance. The river, making its \nway through the hills, is at our feet. The rural towns which \nthe city, like some huge serpent, ever uncoiling and extending \nits folds, is gradually enveloping and strangling, nestle among \nthe hillsides. Seaward, the smoke from scores of tall^bhimneys \nseams and disfigures the delicSSe background of'thp sky, while \nthey tell of life and activity within the vast workshop beneath. \nLet the great city expand as it will, here in its midst is a city \nof graves, its circle ever extending. It needs no soothsayer to \ntell us which will yet enroll the greater number. \n\nA view of Mount Auburn by moonlight and from this tower \nAve should not commend to the timid. The white monuments \nAvould seem so many apparitions risen from their sepulchral \nhabitations. The swaying and murmuring branches would send \nforth strange whisperings above, if they did not give illusive \nmovement to the spectral forms beneath. But none keep vigil \non the watch-tower, unless some spirit of the host below stands \nguard upon the narrow platform waiting the final trumpet \nsound. \n\nMount Auburn has always been compared with the great \ncemetery of Paris, originally called Mont Louis, but now every- \nwhere knoMm by the name of old Francois Delachaise, the con- \nfessor of Louis Quatorze, and of whom Madame de Maintenon \nsaid some spiteful things. The celebrated French cemetery was \nlaid out on the grounds of the Jesuit establisliment, and first \nused for sepulture in 1804, nearly thirty years previous to the \noccupation of Mount Auburn for a similar purpose. The area \n\n\n330 . HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nof the American considerably exceeds that of the Parisian \ncemetery, while its natural advantages are greatly superior. \n\nThe two oldest survivors among the founders of Mount \nAuburn were Dr. Jacob Bigelow, its earliest friend, and Alex- \nander Wadsworth, who made the first topographical survey. It \nshould afford singular gratification to have lived to witness not \nonly their creation serving as a niodel for every city and village \nin the land, but also to see that it has been the actual means \nof preserving the remains of those gathered within its compass \nfrom that miscalled spirit of progress which threatens the \nexistence of the most ancient of our city graveyards. It is as \nlike as not that the remains of Isaac Johnson, the founder of \nBoston, will be disturbed erelong, as it is true that the old \nenclosure which contains the ashes of John Hancock and of \nSamuel Adams has been much encroached upon. Should \nthis continue, we hope the relics of these patriots will be re- \nmoved to some of the rural cemeteries, where their countrymen \nmay rear that monument to their memory the lack of which \nsavors much too strongly of the ingratitude of republics. \n\nBut this experience in regard to cemeteries is not peculiar to \nAmerican cities. The old burial-ground of Bunhill-Fields in \nLondon, called by Southey the \" Campo Santo of the Dissent- \ners, \" and where Bunyan, George Fox, Isaac Watts, and De \nFoe lie, was only preserved, in 1867, after considerable agita- \ntion. The ancient custom of entombment under churches may \nalso be considered nearly obsolete. The old English cathe- \ndrals are vast charnel-houses, in which interments are pro- \nhibited by act of Parliament, special authority being necessary \nfor interment in Westminster Abbey. The mandates of health \nalone were long disregarded, but the absolute insecurity of this \nmethod of sepulture has been too sharply demonstrated by the \ngreat fire in Boston to need other examples. \n\nNeither are the rural cemeteries totally exempt from adverse \ncontingencies. War is their great enemy, and as they are \nusually located upon ground the best adapted to the operations \nof a siege, they have often become the theatre of sanguinary \nconflict. The shattered stones at Gettysburg, where the dead \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 331 \n\nonce lay more thickly above ground than beneath, will long \nbear witness of the destructive power of shot and shell. Cave \nHill, the beautiful burial-place of Louisville, Ky., long bore \nthe scars made by General Nelson's trenches. \n\nWe do not now need to cite the customs of the ancients who \noften built their cemeteries -without their walls, since the prac- \ntice of interment within the limits of our larger cities is now \ngenerally expressly forbidden. Our own ancestors chose the \n■vicinity of their churches, as was the custom in Old England. \nSometimes burials were made along the highways, and not un- \nfrequently in the private grounds of the family of the deceased. \nThis custom, which has prevailed to its greatest extent in the \ncountry, has, in many instances, been productive of consequen- \nces revolting to the sensibilities. Often the fee of a family \ngraveyard has passed to strangers. We have seen little clusters \nof gravestones standing uncared for in the midst of an open \nfield ; we have known them to lie prostrate for years, and even \nto be removed where they obstructed the mowing. \n\nThere w^as a curious resemblance between the manner of \nsepulture practised by the ancient Celts and Britons with that \nin vogue among the American aborigines. The former buried \ntheir dead in cists, barrows, cavities of the rocks, and beneath \nmounds. The deceased were often placed in a sitting posture, \nand their arms and trinkets deposited with them. The latter \nheaped up mounds, or carefully concealed their dead in caves. \nThe implements of war or the chase, belonging to the warrior, \nwere always laid by his side for his use in the happy hunting- \ngrounds. Some analogy in religious belief would justly be \ninferred from this similarity of customs. The Indian remains \nare commonly found in a sitting posture also, except where cir- \ncumstances do not admit of inhumation, when they are fre- \nquently placed on scaffolds, in a reclining posture, in the \nbranches of trees and out of the reach of wild animals. This \ndisposition of the dead appears to be peculiar to the red-men \nof K'orth America. \n\nOur own sepulchral rites have altered but little in a century. \nMankind yet craves \"the bringing home of bell and burial.\" \n\n\n332 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS, \n\nA hundred years ago, carriages being as yet confined to the \nfew, the greater part of the mourners often walked to the grave. \nDecorum, indeed, exacted that the unmediate relatives of a \ndeceased person should walk in procession, no matter what the \nweather might be. These were followed by acquaintances, who \npaid with simulated sorrow the duties required of them by \nfashion. A train of empty carriages brought up the rear, while \nthe bells were tolled to keep the devil at a respectful distance. \nThe custom of the nearest friends following the body to the \ngrave in their moments of greatest affliction originated, it is \nsaid, with us in New England. It is worthy of being classed \nwith that other agonizing horror Avhich compelled the mourner \nto listen to the fall of the clods upon the coffin. \n\nHired mourners have not yet made their appearance among \nus ; but if, while we stand here in Mount Auburn, we scan the \nfaces of the occupants of yonder long train of vehicles, how \nmany shall bear the impress of real grief 1 \n\n\"Sor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. \n\"Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-stxident; I think it was to \nsee my mother's wedding.\" \n\nThe increasing cost of funerals is becoming a matter of seri- \nous solicitude. The equality of the grave is by no means appli- \ncable to these displays. The rich, who can afford to be lavish, \nare copied by the poor, who cannot afford it. The trappings of \nthe hearse, the number and elegance of the carriages, are noted \nfor imitation, \" Such a one made a poor funeral,\" or \" There \nwere but half a dozen carriages,\" followed by an expressive \nshrug, are not uncommon remarks, serving to fix the worldly \ncondition of the deceased. \n\nPomp at funerals is an inheritance which lapsed into the \nobservance of a few simple forms under out Puritan ancestors. \nIt grew under the province into such proportions as called for \nthe intervention of positive law to prevent the poorer classes \nruining themselves, for it was long the custom to present \nmourning scarfs, gloves, and gold rings to all the Mends and \nrelatives. \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 333 \n\nIn England Lord Chesterfield was among the first to dis- \ncountenance ostentatious funerals. His will, marked by pecu- \nliarities, provides for his own last rites in these words : — \n\n\" Satiated with the pompous follies of this life, of which I have \nhad an uncommon share, I would have no posthumous ones dis- \nplayed at my fimeral, and therefore desu-e to be buried at the next \nburying-place to the place where I shall die, and limit the whole \nexpense at my funeral to one hundred pounds.\" \n\nNot unfrequently, however, the will of a deceased person is \nthwarted, as was the case with Governor Burnet, whose friends \nwere determined that his exit should not be made without noise \nor ceremony, in accordance with his request. \n\nThe Irish may claim pre-eminence for singularity in the \nfunereal rite. With us the house of mourning is sacredly \ndevoted to sUence and sorrow. \"We step as Kghtly as if we \nfeared the slumberer's awakening. The light burns dimly in \nthe chamber of death, casting pale shadows on the recumbent, \nrigid figure, robed for eternity. Hushed and awe-stricken \nwatchers flit noiselessly about. It is difficult, therefore, to \ncomprehend the orgies which usually attend on a \" wake.\" All \nwe know is, it is a custom, and as such is respected, though to \nour mind \" more honored in the breach than the observance.\" \n\nOur veneration for the dead is not of that fine, subtle quality \nthat guards the place of sepulture, even of the great, with jeal- \nous care. The mother of Washington long slept in an unknown \ngrave ; the place where the ashes of Monroe were deposited was \nwellnigh forgotten, while that of President Taylor is neglected. \nIt is but lately that a stone has been placed above the last \nresting-place of Samuel Adams. Michel ISTey has no monu- \nment in Pere la Chaise. What better illustration of the doom \nof greatness than the cash entry upon the parish records \nof the Madeleine 1 \" Paid seven francs for a coffin for the \nWidow Capet.\" \n\nLow as we are inclined to estimate our own reverence for the \ndeparted, it is infinitely greater than exists in England or \nFrance at the present day. Just now we related that the \n\n\n334 HISTORIC majs^sions and highways. \n\ngraves of the martyrs \"were only preserved in London by a \nnarrow chance. In the so-called work of restoration in the grand \nold cathedrals like Chester and Bath, it is stated that the \nbones of bishops, judges, and the magnates of the time, whose \nremains were supposed to have been consigned to everlasting \nrest, have been dug up from the cellars and carted away like \nso much rubbish ! \n\nIn Pere la Chaise you may see half an acre of gravestones \ncollected in a certain part of the cemetery. These once belonged \nto graves, the leases of which having expired or purchase not \nbeing completed within a specific time, the headstones are re- \nmoved, the remains disinterred and consigned to a common \ntrench. In the face of that morbid sentimentality displayed by \nthe French in the construction of their tombs and their decora- \ntion at certain periods with chaplets, wreaths, and immortelles, it \nis believed that no other civilized nation regards the burial of \nthe common people with so much indilference. Even the poor \nChinese sells himself to obtain a coffin in which to bury his \nfather ; and one of the most pleasing features of the American \ncemetery is the space set apart for the interment of strangers. \n\nHamlet inquired of the grave-digger how long a man will lie \nin the earth ere he rot. This question has been answered in a \nmanner from time to time where measures of identification have \nbecome necessary. The body of Henry IV. was recognized in \nCanterbury Cathedral after nearly four and a half centuries. \nThe remains of Charles I. were also fully identified by the \nstriking resemblance to portraits and the division of the head \nfrom the trunk. The bodies, in these cases, were of course em- \nbalmed. Henry VIII. had been interred in the same vault in \n.which Charles I. had been deposited. The leaden cofiin of \n•Henry, which was enclosed in one of wood, had been forced \nopen, exhibiting the skeleton of the king after the lapse of 266 \nyears. The disinterment of bones in Egypt, Pompeii, and \nelsewhere, after they have lain in the earth more than a thou- \nsand years, renders it impracticable to fix any limit for their \npreservation. \n\nA city like Mount Auburn, which counts its eighteen thou- \n\n\nMOUNT AUBUKN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. \n\n\n335 \n\n\nsand inliabitauts, requires time to observe. There are the \nnatural beauties of tree, shrub, and flower; there are the \ntombs, the monuments, and the simple stones. Then there are \nthe epitaphs, some of which even the casual visitor may not \nread without emotion. He may stand before the tablets of \nl\\jrkland, Euckminster, Everett, Story, Channing, or wander \nabout until the name of Margaret Fuller or of Mrs. Parton \nstays his footsteps. I^ot far from the entrance is the tomb of \nthe gifted Prussian, Spurzheim, a chaste and beautiful design. \nBowditch's statue, in bronze, by Ball Hughes, challenges our \nrespect for the man who was tlie equal of Laplace in everything \nbut vanity. Longfellow and Sumner, lifelong friends, also lie \nhere. \n\n\nTHE FIRST CHAPEL. \n\n\nMount Auburn boasts of other architectural features besides \nits tombs, of which so many are now being built above ground \nthat the avenues AviU, in time, acquire a certain resemblance to \nPere la Chaise, where one seems always walking in the streets \nof a city. The Chapel is a gem of its kind, a cathedral in the \ndiminutive. It has become a central object of attraction, from \nthe works of art it contains, — the most remarkable specimens \nof statuary in America. Thej^ Avere designed to represent four \n\n\n336 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ndistinct periods of American history, — the Colonial, Revolu- \ntionary, Assumption of Sovereignty, and the Supremacy of the \nLaws. \n\nThe first phase is exhibited by John Winthrop, who appears \n\" in his habit as he lived,\" with ruff, doublet, and hose. The \nfigure is seated, and has a contemplative air. This was the \nwork of Horatio Greenough. \n\nCrawford selected James Otis as a type of the Revolution, \nHis conception is grand and impressive in treatment, noble and \nstriking in form and feature, though to us there appears a \nsuperabundance of drapery. Some fault has been found by \ncritics with, the pose, as too theatrical, but this objection does \nnot find support in the very general admiration bestowed upon \nthe work, which, to be judged by the groups that assemble be- \nfore it, is considered the peer among these marbles. Vinnie \nReam visited the Chapel when she was engaged in modelling \nher statue of Abraham Lincoln, and studied the figure of Otis \nattentively. \n\nThe artist, who, we beUeve, became totally blind before this \nwork was completed, did not succeed in creating the ideal of \nOtis as a ' flame of fire,' but rather, as it seems to us, of calm \nand conscious power. But this strength is expressed with \ngreat skill. Otis is given to us by Blackburn with a counte- \nnance rather cheerful than severe. He was a merry companion, \nirascible to a degree, but magnanimous, — the life of the clubs \nand detestation of the crown officers. He might have appeared \nin the very attitude in which Crawford's chisel has left him \nwhen making his celebrated reply to Governor Bernard. Hav- \ning cited Domat, the famous French jurist, the Governor in- \nquired who Domat was. \" He is a very distinguished civilian,\" \nanswered Otis, \" and not the less an authority from being un- \nknown to your Excellency.\" \n\nOpposite the statue of Otis is that of John Adams, by Ran- \ndolph Rogers. It possesses much animation and character, \nbeing attired in the costume of the time, so that one sees the \nman as he really appeared, and not a lay figure. The garb of \n1776, male and female, civil and military, was worn with as \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 337 \n\nmuch ease and grace as any more modern costume has been, \nnpr will it in after time appear a whit more awkward than that \nwhich happens to be the fashion of the present generation. \nJohn Adams in toga and sandals would be no greater anachro- \nnism than Julius Caesar in trousers and French boots. \n\nNo doubt the proudest moment Mr. Adams ever knew was \nthe day on which he was presented to George III. as the first \nAmerican Ambassador. \" Sir,\" said the king, \" I was the last \nman in my kingdom to consent to your independence, and I \nshall be the last to do anything to infringe it,\" — a manly as \nwell as kingly speech. \n\nJudge Story's statue has a singular appropriateness in this \nplace. He was the early friend of Mount Auburn, and de- \nHvered the beautiful and impressive address of consecration. \nHe often visited its precincts, and lies couched, as he wished to \nlie, beneath its green turf. His son, William W. Story, wrought \non his labor of love many years, and produced a masterpiece. \n\nBesides these more prominent subjects there are in the grounds \nof Mount AubiU'n numerous works from the chisels of Dexter, \nBrackett, Carew, and others. There is also the monumental \nurn erected in Franklin Street, Boston, in the day of the Old \nCrescent, in memory of Franklin, since placed above the tomb \nof Charles Bulfinch, one of the authors of that improvement. \nThe first monument in the cemetery was erected over the re- \nmains of Hannah Adams, the historian. \n\nPowers and Crawford and the elder Greenough, after making \nthe name of American art respected at home and abroad, now \nlive only in their works. At the first Great Exhibition at \nSydenham our sculptors bore off the palm for beauty, leaving \nto their European brethren the award for rugged strength. Of \neither of the triumvirate of deceased sculptors we have named \nit would be possible to say, — \n\n\" He dated from the creation of the beautiful.\" \n\nThe cemetery of Mount Auburn, which is worthy of being \ncompared -wdth no other than itself, owes its origin to the \nMassachusetts Horticultural Society. Within that body the \n15 V \n\n\n338 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS, \n\nidea originated Avith Dr. Jacob Bigelow, whose professional ex- \nperience condemned the practice of burials beneath the city \nchurches, while the overcrowded state of the graveyards was an \nevil calling even more loudly for remedy. A meeting was held \nat Dr. Bigelow's house in Summer Street, Boston, as early as \nNovember, 1825, at which were present John Lowell, George \nBond, William Sturgis, Thomas W. Ward, Samuel P. Gardiner, \nJohn Tappan, Dr. Bigelow, and ISTathan Hale. From this time \nthe purpose seems never to have been lost sight of by Dr. \nBigelow. The credit of originating the idea of a rural cemetery \nin the vicinity of Boston belongs to William Tudor, Avho before \n1821 suggested this very remedy for the evils attendant upon \nburials within the city. His plan did not differ from that \neventually carried out in Mount Auburn. \n\nThe Horticultural Society having been incorporated in 1829, \nan informal meeting was held at the Exchange Coffee House in \nNovember of the next year, to initiate steps to bring before the \npublic a plan for the purchase of a garden and cemetery. From \nthis meeting others proceeded, until a committee was formed \nwith authority to secure a suitable site. George W. Brimmer, \nEsq., was then the proprietor of the tract known as Sweet \nAuburn, but previously as Stone's woods, -which he had secured \nwith the view of making himself a residence and park. These \nAvoods had, up to this time, been a favorite resort for parties of \npleasure, but the axe had already begun its work of ruin when \nMr. Brimmer appeared on the scene to arrest it. This gentle- \nman, who had seen Pere la Chaise, became an active sympa- \nthizer with the object of establishing a cemetery on that plan. \nHe had given $ 6,000 for Sweet Auburn, which he now ten- \ndered to the Horticultural Society for this sum. The offer was \naccepted. The names of the most prominent and influential \nmembers in the community are allied with the foundation. \nWebster, Story, and Everett took an active part. The one \nhundred subscribers required, at sixty dollars each, to complete \nthe purchase, were quickly secured. On the 24th of Septem- \nber, 1831, Mount Auburn was formally dedicated. The first \ninterment took place during the following year. \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BEIDGE. 339 \n\nClashing interests between the society and the lot-holders \nsoon called for new measures. A small beginning had been \nmade with the proposed garden, but the income from the cem- \netery, greater than had been expected, promised to increase \nbeyond the calculations of the most sanguine. It became evi- \ndent that the whole tract would be wanted for a cemetery. The \nidea of separation from the parent society under a government \nof its own suggested itself, and was at length proposed by \nI\\Iarshall P. Wilder. The discussion on this point was warm \nand protracted ; so much so that Judge Story, who acted as \nchairman of the cemetery committee, one day took his hat and \nleft the meeting in anger, but was induced to return. The \nterms of separation were finally arranged and incorporated into \nthe charter of the Mount Auburn Association. The society \nrelinquished its rights upon payment, aimually, of one fourth of \nthe income of the cemetery, after deducting a fixed sum for its \nexpenditures. \n\nThis most popular of our societies has already received a very \nlarge income from this source, — sufficient to enable it to ex- \npand and beautify with its touch the most remote parts of the \nUnion. Taste is developed. A hanging garden is suspended \nabove the door of every cottage, and Hesperides gives up its \ngolden treasures at our command. Not the least of its benefits \nis the inauguration of Mount Auburn, where the weary \n\n\" Choose their ground \nAnd take their rest.\" \n\nIn his address on the occasion of laying the corner-stone of \nOld Horticultural Hall, in 1845, Mr. Wilder well said : — \n\n\"And be it ever remembered, that to the Massachusetts Horticul- \ntural Society the community are indebted for the foundation and \nconsecration of Mount Auburn Cemetery, — that hallowed resting- \nplace, that garden of graves.\" \n\nWe entered the cemetery with a funeral cortege, and we now \ndepart -with one. Once past the gate the staid and solemn \ncollection of carriages becomes dismembered, and its sinuous \n\n\n340 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nblack line parts in fragments. The driver cracks his whip, the \nhorses break into a rattling pace, while the countenances of the \nso-called mourners are cleared as suddenly as if a cloud had \npassed from beneath the sun. Here comes the hearse to join \nthe homeward race, and even the still weeping, reluctant friends \nare whu'led away in spite of themselves. Is it a burial with \nmilitary honors 1 At entering the band plays a dirge, the com- \nrades following with arms reversed, downcast eyes, and meas- \nured tread. The coffin is lowered into the grave and a volley \ndischarged. Once beyond the gate arms are shouldered, the \nmusic strikes up a lively air, and the company marches away as \ngayly as on a field-day. Decorum would seem to challenge such \nobservances. The contrast is somewhat too strongly defined ; \nthe revulsion from grief to joyousness something discordant \nand unworthy. \n\nEmerging from Mount Auburn, we take counsel of the \nswinging sign pointing to the lane leading to Fresh Pond, \nwhich lies but a little distance away, embosomed among the \nwoody hills. In England our ponds would be called lakes, \nand our lakes might vie with Caspian or Euxine, But our \nponds have this advantage, that, while bearing their miniature \nbillows in summer, they become in winter solid acres of ice, \nto be harvested within the huge storehouses on their banks. \nNature has fixed these reservoirs where they may best slake the \nthirst of the cities, so that whether ten or twenty miles away \nwe may drink of their waters. \n\nFresh Pond seems to be the natural source of niimerous \nunderground streams, which are found whenever the earth is \npenetrated to any depth between it and Charlestown. Its \nshores have been looked upon with peculiar favor for country- \nseats by such as have known its natural advantages ; we would \nnot attempt to fix a period when it was not a famed resort for \nrecreation. Big-wigged magistrates and college students came \nhere under the Colony, boating, angling, or haunting the cool \ngroves. It was from the eifects of exposure during a fishing \nexcursion here that poor Governor Burnet got his death. \n\nHistorically the place has its claims as having served as a \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 341 \n\nrefuge for the panic-stricken women and children of the neigh- \nborhood on the 19th of April, 1775. One of these fugitives \nthus relates her experience : — \n\n\"A few hours with the dawning day convinced us the bloody \npurpose was executing ; the platoon firing assuring us the rising sun \nmust witness the bloody carnage. Not knowing what the event \nwould be at Cambridge at the return of these bloody ruffians, and \nseeing, another brigade despatched to the assistance of the former, \nlooking with the ferocity of barbarians, it seemed necessary to retire \nto some place of safety tiU the calamity was passed. My partner had \nbeen confined a fortnight by sickness. After dinner we set out, not \nknowing whither we went. We were directed to a place called \nFresh Pond, about a mile from the town ; but what a distressed \nhouse did we find it, filled with women whose husbands had gone \nforth to meet the assailants, seventy or eighty of these (with number- \nless infant children), weeping and agonizing for the fate of their \nhusbands. In addition to this scene of distress we were for some \ntime in sight of the battle ; the glittering instruments of death pro- \nclaiming by an incessant fii-e that much blood must be shed, that \nmany widowed and orphaned ones must be left as monuments of \nBritish barbarity. Another uncomfortable night we passed ; some \nnodding in their chairs, some resting their weary limbs on the \nfloor.\" \n\nTime out of mind the shores of the pond belonged to the \nWyeths, and one of this family deserves our notice in passing. \nNathaniel J. \"Wyeth was born and bred near at hand. Of an' \nenterprising and courageous disposition, he conceived the idea \nof organizing a party with which to cross the continent and en- \ngage in trade with the Indian tribes of Oregon. He enlisted \none-and-twenty adventurous spirits, who made him their leader, \nand with whom he set out from Boston on the 1st of March, \n1832, first encamping his party on one of the harbor islands, in \norder to inure them to field life. The voyagers provided them- \nselves with a novel means of transportation, — no other than a \nnumber of boats built at the village smithy and mounted on \nwheels. \"With these boats they expected to pass the rivers \nthey might encounter, while at other times they were to serve \nas wagons. The idea was not without ingenuity, but was \n\n\n342 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYg, \n\nfounded on a false estimate of the character of the streams and \nof the mountain roads they were sure to meet with. \n\nWyeth and his foUowers pursued their route via Baltimore \nand the railway, which then left them at the base of the AUe- \nghanies, onward to Pittsburg, at which point they took steam- \nboat to St. Louis, arriving there on the 18th of April. Hith- \nerto they had met with only a few disagreeable adventures. \nThey were now to face the real difficulties of theii\" undertaking. \nThey soon discovered that their complicated wagons were use- \nless, and they were forced to part with them. The warlike \ntribes, whose hunting-grounds they were to traverse, began to \ngive them uneasiness ; and, to crown their misfortunes, they \nnow ascertained how ignorautly they had calculated upon the \ntrade with the savages. \n\nSt. Louis was then the great depot of the Indian traders, \nAvho made their annual expeditions across the Plains, prepared \nto fight or barter, as the temper of the Indians might dictate. \nThe old trappers who made their abode in the mountain region \nmet the traders at a given rendezvous, receiving powder, lead, \ntobacco, and a few necessaries in exchange for their furs. To \none of these parties Wyeth attached himself, and it was well \nthat he did so. \n\nBefore reaching the Platte five of AVyeth's men deserted their \ncompanions, either from dissatisfaction with theu' leader, or \nbecause they had just begun to realize the hazard of the enter- \nprise. Nat Wyeth, however, was of that stuff we so expressively \nname clear grit. There was no flinching about him ; the Pacific \nwas his objective, and he determined to arrive at his destination \neven if he marched alone. William Sublette's party, which \nWyeth had joined, encountered the vicissitudes common to a \ntrip across the plains in that day ; the only difference being that \nthe New England men now faced these difficulties for the first \ntime, whereas Sublette's party was largely composed of experi- \nenced plainsmen. They followed the course of the Platte, seeing \ngreat herds of buffalo roaming at large, while they experienced \nthe gnawings of hunger for want of fuel to cook the delicious \nhumps, sirloins, and joints, constantly paraded like the fruit of \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 343 \n\nTantalus before their greedy eyes. They found the streams \nturbulent and swift ; the Black Hills, which the iron-horse now \nso easily ascends, were infested with bears and rattlesnakes. \nMany of the party fell ill from the effects of drinking the \nbrackish water of the Platte, Dr. Jacob Wyeth, brother of \nthe captain and surgeon of the party, being unluckily of this \nnumber. \n\nSublette, a French creole, and one of those pioneers that have \npreceded pony-express, telegraph, stage-coach, and locomotive, \nin their onward march, had no fears of the rivalry of the New \nEngland men, and readily took them under his protection. Be- \nsides, they swelled his numbers by the addition of a score of \ngood rifles, no inconsiderable acquisition when his valuable \ncaravan entered the country of the treacherous Blackfeet, the \nthieving Crows, or warlike Nez-Perces. The united bands \narrived at Pierre's Hole, the trading rendezvous, in July, where \nthey embraced the first opportunity for repose since leaving the \nwhite settlements. \n\nAt this place there was a fm-ther secession from Wyeth's \ncompany, by which he was left with only eleven men, the re- \nmainder preferring to return homeward with Sublette. Petty \ngrievances, a somewhat too arrogant demeanor on the part of \nthe leader, and the conviction that the trip would prove a \nfailure, caused these men to desert their companions when only \na few hundred miles distant from the mouth of the Columbia. \nBefore a final separation occurred, a severe battle took place \nbetween the whites and their Indian allies and the Blackfeet, \nby which Sublette lost seven of his own men killed and thirteen \nAvounded. None of Wyeth's men were injured in this fight, \nbut a little later one of those who had separated from him was \nambushed and killed by Blackfeet. \n\nWyeth now joined Milton Sublette, the brother of Wniiam, \nunder whose guidance he proceeded towards Salmon Eiver. \nThe Bostons, as the northwest coast Indians formerly styled all \nwhite men, arrived at Vancouver on the 29th of October, hav- \ning occupied seven months in a journey which may now be \nmade in as many days. The expedition was a failure, indeed, \n\n\n344 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nso far as gain was concerned, and Wyeth's men all left him at \nthe Hudson's Bay Company's post. The captain, nothing \ndaunted, and determined to make use of his dearly bought \nexperience, returned to the States the ensuing season. His \nadventures may be followed by the curious in the pleasant \npages of Irving's Captain Bonneville. Arriving at the head- \nwaters of the Missouri, he built what is known as a bull-boat, \nmade of buffalo-skins stitched together and stretched over a \nslight frame, in which, with two or three half-breeds, he con- \nsigned himself to the treacherous currents and quicksands of \nthe Bighorn. Down this stream he floated to its confluence \nwith the Yellowstone. At Fort Union he exchanged his leather \nbark for a dug-out, with which he sailed, floated, or paddled \ndown the turbid Missouri to Camp (now Fort) Leavenworth. \nHe returned to Boston, and, having secured the means, again \nrepaired to St. Louis, where he enlisted a second company \nof sixty men, with which he once more sought the old Oregon \ntrail. \n\nThis was sixty years ago. Since then the Great American \nDesert, as it was called, has undergone a magical transforma- \ntion. Cities of twenty thousand inhabitants exist to-day where \nWyeth found only a dreary wUderness ; from the Big Muddy \nto the Pacific you are scarcely ever out of sight of the smoke of \na settler's cabin. In looking at the dangers and trials to which \nWyeth found himself opposed, it must be admitted that he \nexhibited rare traits of courage and perseverance, allied with \nthe natural capacity of a leader. His misfortunes arose tlirough \nignorance, and perhaps, to no small extent also, from that \nvanity which inclines your full-blooded Yankee .to beUeve him- \nself capable of everything, because the word \" impossible \" is \nexpunged from his vocabulary. \n\nFresh Pond has a present significance due wholly to its limpid \nwaters. In Havana, in San Francisco, and even in Calcutta, \nyou may have read the legend \"Fresh Pond Ice. What,ice afloat \non the Ganges ! New England winter transported in crystals \nto the bosom of the sacred stream ! How wondrous the first \ntransparent cubes must have looked to the gaping Hindoo, and \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 345 \n\nhow old Gunga would have shivered had one of the solid blocks \nfallen into his fiery tide ! \n\nLittle did John Winthrop and his associates dream that the \nice and granite which they saw with such foreboding would \nprove mines of wealth to their descendants. The traffic in ice \nwas originated by Frederick Tudor in 1805, by shipping a \nsingle cargo in a brig to Martinique. It was characterized by \nthe sagacious merchants of Boston as a mad project, and the \nadventurer was laughed at by the whole town. The cargo \narrived in perfect condition. The business prospered. Mr. \nTudor found other markets open to him, but want of means \nprevented his extending his trade to the East Indies for nearly \nthirty years after he had shipped his first cargo. He leased or \npurchased rights at Fresh Pond, Spot Pond, Walden Pond, and \nSmith's Pond, — a railway being built to the former, solely for \nthe transportation of ice. \n\nIn 1835 Mr. Tudor was unable to meet his indebtedness, but \nby favor of his creditors was enabled to go on and pursue with \nenergy the business he had inaugurated. He discharged every \nobhgation in full. His house owned property in Nahant, \nCharlestown, New Orleans, Jamaica, Calcutta, Madras, and \nBombay, so that it was almost possible for him who at twenty- \ntwo had founded a traffic so extraordinary to repeat the proud \nboast of England, \" that the sun never set on his possessions.\" \n\nLet us once more take the route of the old Watertown road. \nAnd first we greet the ancient hostelry standing in the angle \nformed by the intersection of Belmont Street. This was known \nin Eevolutionary times as Edward Richardson's tavern, though, \nas we have seen, it dated much farther back. The house has \nbeen removed a short distance from its original location, and \nhas experienced changes in its exterior ; but within are still in- \ntact bar-room, kitchen, and dining-room, with the spacious fire- \nplace, beside which hung the loggerhead. This was one of the \nplaces where the Colony cannon and intrenching tools were \nconcealed. It was also a famous place of resort for Burgoyne's \nofficers, on account of the cock-pit kept on the other side of the \nroad. Some of these gentlemen, from the West of England, \n\n15* \n\n\n346 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwere very partial to this cruel sport. We relate the answer of \na poor woman to whom, they applied to purchase a pair of fine \nbirds. \n\n\" I swear now you shall have neither of them ; I swear now \nI never saw anything so bloodthirsty as you Britonians be; if \nyou can't be fighting and cutting other people's throats, you \nmust be setting two harmless creatures to kill one another. \nGo along, go. I have heard of your cruel doings at Watertown, \ncutting off the feathers, and the poor creatures' combs and gills,, \nand putting on iron things upon their legs. Go along, I say.\" \n\nSuiting the action to the word, the old woman raised her \ncrutch, and threatened to execute summary justice on the offi- \ncers, who did not consider it indiscreet to beat a hasty retreat. \nThis tavern — subsequently Bird's, and also kept by Bellows — \nalso was the residence of Joseph Bird, known through his efforts \nto discover a remedy for the prevention of confiagations. \n\nIt is not known where Rev. George Phillips, first pastor of \nthe church of Watertown, lies butied, but tradition having \nassigned the little knoll a short distance beyond the tavern and \nnear the highway as his resting-place, Mr. Bird caused excava- \ntion to be carefully made there, without finding evidence of \nany remains. \n\nA short walk brings us to the ancient burial-place of Water- \ntown. It is not a garden but a field of graves. Many stones \nare scarcely visible above the clover-tops and daisies. The red \nbrick and blue slate contrast somewhat sharply with the marble \nand granite of the neighboring cemetery. If anything, the place \nwears an even more sombre appearance than its contemporary \nof Old Cambridge. The very cedars seem dying. The mossy \nold stone-wall which forms one side of the enclosure is half \nconcealed by climbing vines. Though reputed one of the \noldest grounds in New England, no stone is found of an earlier \ndate than that of Sarah Hammond, in 1674. There also is a \nmonument erected to the memory of Joseph Coolidge, who fell \nat Lexington, April 19, 1775. \n\nThis graveyard is thought to have been used as early as \n1642, although the situation before mentioned on the Bird \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 347 \n\nestate was conjectured to have preceded it, — a supposition \nwliich the examinations of Mr. Bird may be considered to have \nsettled. Opposite, and well withdrawn from the highway, is \nthe house which tradition, that ignis fatuus of history, alleges \nto have heen the home of Eev. Mr. PhiUips, — perhaps that \n\"built for him by Sir Richard Saltonstall. This would place it \nin the front rank of old houses, where it clearly belongs, though \nit has for fifty years lost the distinctive English character it \nonce possessed. \n\nThe second graveyard in the town, according to its present \nlimits, is at the junction of Mount Auburn and Common \nStreets. It was established about 1754, the year the meeting- \nhouse afterwards used for the sessions of the Provincial Con- \ngress was built on the same ground. The neighborhood of \nthe first cemetery is the supposed site of the first or second \nmeeting-house, it being usually placed beside Mr. PhiUips's \nhouse. The almost invariable custom of that day would seem \nto indicate its location within the limits of the old burial-place. \n\nThe church, to which the sittings of Congress gave political \nconsequence, had a lofty steeple with square tower and open \nbelfry. The entrance was on the east side. It had galleries, \nand was furnished with the old-fashioned box pews, having \nthose movable seats which every one at the conclusion of the \nservice felt obliged to turn back Avith a concussion repeated \nthroughout the house like an irregular volley of smaU-arms. \nRev. \"William Gordon, author of the History of our Revolution, \nofficiated here as the chaplain of Congress. The vane which \nbelonged to this house now adorns the pinnacle of the Metho- \ndist church. \n\nBefore you came to the bridge in \"NVatertown, first built \nin 1660, there was still standing, within the foundry-yard \nof Miles Pratt & Co., an old dwelling-house notable for its \ndilapidation. It seemed scarcely able to bear its own weight, \nand, as it encumbered the ground, was pulled down. During \nthe work of demolition the workmen found a number of old \ncopper coins, which had remained concealed in chinks or crev- \nices a century or more. This is said to have been the old \n\n\n348 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nprinting-office of Benjamin Edes, who removed his type and \npress from Boston in the spring of 1775. He printed for the \nProvincial Congress, and many of the old broadsides of the \ntime bear his imprint. \n\nGlossing the bridge, the first old house on the east side of the \nAvay — once the residence of Mr. Brigham — is the Coolidge \ntavern of Revolutionary times, kept by Nathaniel Coolidge from \n1764 to 1770, and afterwards by \" the Widow Coolidge.\" Con- \ntemporary with this was Learned's tavern, on the site of the \nSpring Hotel. Nathaniel Coolidge's Avas known in 1770 as the \n\" Sign of Mr. Wilkes near Nonantum Bridge.\" The house was \nappointed as a rendezvous for the Committee of Safety in May, \n1775, in case of an alarm. President Washington lodged here \nin 1789, and styled the Widow Coolidge's house a very indif- \nferent one indeed. \n\nOpposite Mr. Brigham's, and near the river-bank, is another \nold house, which is situated on ground belonging from the earli- \nest settlement to the Cook family. John Cook lived here during \nthe Revolution, and some of the officers of our army boarded \nwith him at the time of the siege, of whom Colonel Knox and \nHarry Jackson, bosom friends, enjoyed each other's companion- \nship during brief intervals of rest. It was probably to this place \nKnox afterwards brought his \"wdfe. In a chamber of this house \nPaul Revere engraved his plates, and, assisted by John Cook, \nstruck off the Colony notes emitted by order of the Provincial \nCongress. Lying contiguous to this estate along the river were \nthe old fishing- wier lands of the town. \n\nOur rambles extend no farther in the direction we have pur- \nsued than the vicinity, of the \" Great Bridge,\" so called in the \nday of small things. Newton, it is true, abounds in pleasant \nwalks, while not a few of its worthies have made a figure in \nhistory. Of these Captain Thomas Prentice, the famous Indian \nfighter in Philip's time, may, in the order of chronology, justly \nclaim precedence. Reputed to have been one of Old NoU's sol- \ndiers, he was a sort of second Myles Standish, tough as hickory, \nseasoned in war, and of approved conduct. He is said to have \nkilled with an axe, on his farm in this town, a bear which \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 349 \n\nattacked one of his servants. This old trooper lived in the \nsaddle all his life, and died at eighty-nine of a fall from his \nhorse. His place was at the corner of the road leading to \nBrookline, occupied of later years by the Harhacks. \n\nJoseph Ward, who built in 1792 the old mansion opposite \nthe Skinner place, was appointed by General Heath his aide-de- \ncamp the day after the battle of Lexington, and was the first to \nhold such a position in the American army. He was, in May \nfollowing, -svith Samuel Osgood of Andover, appointed to a \nsimUar position by General Ward, subsequently holding the \noffice of Commissary of Musters in the Continental Army. \n\nMichael Jackson, colonel of the 8th Massachusetts, has been \nmet with in our pages. Joining his company at the Lexington \nalarm, in the absence of commissioned officers, he was chosen \nto command for the day. He immediately stepped from his \nplace in the ranks as a private, and gave the order, Shoulder \narms, platoons right ivheel, qzdck time, forward march ! When \nhe got to Watertown meeting-house the officers of the regiment \nwere holding a consultation. Finding they were likely to con- \nsume valuable time in speeches, he led all that would follow \nhim where they could strike the British. He fell in with \nPercy's column, and that gallant gentleman received him with \nall the honors of a hot discharge of musketry. Jackson's men \nwere at first demoralized, but ralhed and gave shot for shot. \n\nIn the old K'ewton burying-ground the seeker will find the \ntomb in which were placed the remains of General WiUiam \nHull and of his wife, Sarah (Fuller) Hull. A plain marble \nslab is inscribed, \n\n\"Genl. William Hull \n\nAn officer of the Revolution \n\ndied Nov. 29th 1825 aged 72 years. \n\nMrs Saeah Hull \n\n. died August 2d 1826 aged 67 years.\" \n\nHowever he may read the history of the campaign which \nculminated in the surrender of Detroit, the student may not in \nthis place withhold his sympathy for the misfortunes of a brave \nbut ill-fated soldier. That he was not deficient in courage his \n\n\n350 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nconduct on some of the hardest-fought fields of the Revolution \n— Trenton, Monmouth, and Stony Point — sufficiently attest ; \nthat he should suddenly have hecome a coward is as incredible \nas the charge of his being a traitor is absurd. Yet a military \ntribunal pronounced him guilty of cowardice, and but for the \ninterposition of President Madison he would have been shot. \nPubHc sentiment was about equally di^dded in opinion as to \nwhether Hull was the more coward or traitor, and current re- \nport had it that wagon-loads of British gold had been seen \nafter the surrender going to his house at Newton. \n\nThis case has always presented to our mind a parallel with \nthat of Admiral Byng, an officer of distinguished bravery, who, \nin obedience to popular clamor, was shot for cowardice on the \nquarter-deck of his own ship, meeting death like a hero. For- \ntunately General Hull was not called upon to refute a slander \n•with his life. It is needless to recite instances of the fallibility \nof courts-martial, or of the power of a ministry or a cabinet to \ndisgrace an officer for what is not unfrequently its own culpa- \nbility. No one need be reminded that the conqueror of Vicks- \nburg, of Chattanooga, and of Richmond was once on the eve \nof being permanently as he was temporarily superseded. The \nvictor of Nashville and the present general of the armies of the \nUnited States were near meeting this destiny which others of \nlesser note are even now fulfilling. \n\nAfter General Hull's return to Newton at the close of the \nRevolutionary War, he resided first at Angler's Corner in a \nwooden house formerly standing on the west side of the road \nfrom Watertown. Here he lived ten or twelve years, until, \nafter his return from Europe in 1799, he built the large brick \nhouse on the opposite side of the street, in which he resided \nuntil he went, in 1805, to Detroit, when he sold it to John \nRichardson. This was the house subsequently enlarged into \na hotel, and known as the Nonantum House. \n\nAt the peace, in 1783, General Hull had embarked in large \nland speculations, being one of the owners of the \"Connecticut \nReserve, \" on which the city of Cleveland now stands, besides \nhaving interests in Georgia and elsewhere of a similar charac- \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURN TO NONANTUM BRIDGE. 351 \n\nier. But his public life had always interfered with these spec- \nidations. Wlien he went to ])etroit as governor, he invested \nmost of his funds in real estate in the then frontier village, and \nwas obliged to build a house for a residence. After he left \nDetroit all his property there M'as sacrificed. He had advanced \nlarge sums for the defence of the Territory, which, together with \nliis salary as governor, mostly remained unpaid until his death, \nand were only obtained by his family after repeated petitions to \nCongress for relief. \n\nThe farm in Newton of nearly three hundred acres, owned \nand occupied by General Hull up to the time of his death, was \nlirst occupied by Joseph Fuller, bom in 1652. He was the \nson of John Fuller, who came over in 1635 with John Win- \nthrop, Jr., and settled in Cambridge Village (New Town) in \n1644. In 1658 he bought a tract of one thousand acres in the \nnorthwest part of the town, long known as the Fuller Farm. \nHis son Joseph, when he married Lydia, daughter of Edward \nJackson, in 1680, received twenty acres of land from his father- \nin-law. This was part of a tract of five hundred acres which \nhad belonged to Governor Bradstreet in 1646, and which the \ngovernor had bought of Thomas Mayhew of Watertown in \n1638 for six cows. Here Joseph Fuller built his house in \n1680, and together with about two hundred acres inherited \nfrom his father, it formed the farm which descended to his son \nJoseph, his grandson Abraham Avho added to it, and his grand- \ndaughter Sarah Fuller, who married Colonel William Hull in \n1781. After the death of Mrs. Hull the place Avas sold and \ndivided, a part coming into the possession of William Claflin, \nwho has improA'ed and- embellished it Avith much taste. Tt \nmight be called the \" Governors' Farm.\" ha\\ang been owned by \nSimon Bradstreet, William Hull, and William Claflin. \n\nAbout 1767 Abraham Fuller removed a part of the old house \nbuilt in 1680, and replaced it with one more modern. The \nportion of the original structure retained by him remained until \n1814, when General Hull removed it, putting in its place the \none he occupied till the time of his decease. The mansion, \ncomposed of the two structures built by Judge Fuller and his \n\n\n352 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nson-in-law, was long to be seen at Newtonville, near the rail- \nway station, in turn occupied as a residence and a club-house, \nuntil torn down to make room for a brick block. \n\nWhile this house was building the General resided in Bos- \nton, leaving to his son-in-law, Dr. Samuel Clarke, the care of \nits construction. Dr. Clarke was the father of James Freeman \n(Jlarke, who wrote an able vintlication of the General, and of \nSamuel C. Clarke. Upon taking possession of the farm in \n1814 the General devoted himself to agriculture, and was one \nof the first in New England to practice what is known as \" high \nfarming.\" He had little society except the members of his own \nfamily circle and a few friends and neighbors. Among these \nlatter were Lucius M. Sargent, AVilliam Sullivan, William \nLittle, George A. Otis, David Henshaw, and Nathaniel Greene, \nof Boston ; Madam Swan, of Dorchester ; Barney Smith, of \nMilton ; Gorham Parsons and S. W. Pomeroy, of Brighton ; \nDr. Morse and Marshall Spring, of Watertown. He had nu- \nmerous correspondents among his old comrades in arms. Gov- \nernor' Eustis and General Dearborn were of the number of his \nenemies,. \n\nGeneral Hull was about five feet eight, of florid complexion, \nand had blue eyes. He sat to Stuart, in 1821, who obtained \nan excellent likeness. At this time he was of portly figure, \nweighing perhaps one hundred and eighty pounds. Of active \nhabits, he might be seen early and late walking or riding about \nlis farm. At seventj'^ he still crossed his saddle with military \ngrace. His manners were courtly and pleasing. At a dinner \ngiven him in 1825 by citizens of Boston, those guests belong- \ning to a newer generation were surprised to remark in him the \nfine old manner now quite •gone out of fashion. The General \nreceived a visit from Lafayette in 1825. \n\nA pilgrimage to Nonantura Hill might revive shadowy \nglimpses of a scene worthy the pencil of Angelo, Guido, or \nRaphael, — the Apostle Eliot preaching to the Indians in 1646. \nThe reverend man of God, offering the Evangel with one hand, \nfriendship and peace with the other, would be the central \nfigure. The grave, attentive savages should be grouped in \n\n\nMOUNT AUBURxX TU XONANTUM BRIDGE. 353 \n\npicturesque attitudes about him. Eliot's was an example •vve \ncan always contemplate with satisfaction as compensating \nlargely for the malevolent persecution so often meted out to \nthe red-man in the name of the Master. \n\nHaving traversed the utmost limits of the Continental lines \nin Middlesex, from the Mystic to the Charles, and so far as in \nus lies set the camps in order, rebuilt and garrisoned the works \nanew, sought out the captains, and fitted together the parts of \nthe rude machinery of government, we now entreat the reader \nto bear us company in our resume of the first and last attempt \nof an enemy to penetrate into the interior of Massachusetts. \n\n\n354 HISTORIC MANSIONS ANp HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. \n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. \n\n\"A single drop of bloorl Jiiav be considered as the signal of civil war\" \n\nEdwakd G \n\nIF the British grenadier had not gone into a shop with his \naccoutrements on, or if the Province House groom had not \nbeen indiscreet, perhaps Gage would have succeeded in his plan \nof surprising the Americans, destroying the stores at Concord, \nand returning his troops with the prestige of a successful expe- \ndition. This would have made a capital despatch for the Min- \nistry, had the event not fallen out otherwise. North would \nhave chuckled and Barre sulked, while Gage would have re- \nmained master of the situation. \n\nJohn Ballard was the hostler at the stables on the corner of \nMilk and old Marlborough Streets, to whom the groom imparted \nthe intelligence that \" there would be hell to pay to-morrow \" ; \nbut even he little thought how prophetic his language would \nbecome. Ballard was a liberty boy, but his informant did not \nsuspect it. His hand trembled so much with excitement that \nhe could hardly hold his curry-comb. Begging his friend to \nfinish the horse he was cleaning, and feigning some forgotten \nerrand, Ballard left the stable in haste. Not daring to go di- \nrectly to Revere's house, he went to that of a Avellknown friend \nof liberty in Ann Street, who carried the news to Revere. \n\nRevere had concerted his signals ; Robert Newman hung \nthem in Christ Church steeple. The former crossed the river \nin his boat, mounted his horse, and the first part of Gage's plan \ndissolved with the morning mists. \n\n\" And yet, through the gloom and the light, \nThe fate of a nation was riding that night, \nAnd the spark struck out by that steed in his flight \nKindled the land into flame with its heat.\" \n\n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. 355 \n\nIt is time the idea should be buried out of sight that the ex- \npedition to Lexington was a mere marauding foray upon a col- \n. lection of unarmed, inoffensive peasants. It was not the fault \nof the British general that he was not met and resisted at every \nstep from Lechmere's Point to Lexington Green, if, indeed, \nhis troops had ever succeeded in reaching that place. It Avas \nnot the fault of the Americans that they did not oppose his \nmarch with the greater part of the twelve thousand minute- \nmen they were engaged in equipping for the field. They knew \nthey Avere levying war, they knew the regidars were preparing \nto strike ; the^^ were surprised, — that is all. \n\nBefore the battle of Lexington, the Americans had twelve \nlight field-pieces, with proper ammunition, for wliich they were \norganizing six companies of artillery, and had accumulated as \nmany as eleven hundred tents, fifteen thousand canteens, with \nother camp equipage in proportion. We say nothing of the \nmagazines of small-arms, brimstone, saltpetre, bullets, pro- \nvisions, and medicines, Avhich they were collecting in vast \nquantities. They had resolved five months before that the \nprecise moment to begin hostilities Avas when the British \nmarched into the country Avith their baggage, artillery, and \nammunition. If General Gage had quietly permitted these \npreparations to go on, he would have deserved the appointment \nof generahssimo of the provincial forces. \n\nThe provincials had undoubtedly received information that \ntheu' stores were in danger, for, on the very day the troops left \nBoston, orders Avere given for the dispersion of their magazines \namong several toAA-ns. It is evident that a movement on Con- \ncord AA-^as apprehended. The leaders kncAv they Avere not quite \nready for battle, and they labored under the disadvantage of ex- \npecting the blow without knoAving precisely Avhere it was to \nfall. The secret had been well guarded ; so Avell that it is said \nHaldimand, Gage's second in command, did not know the \ntroops had marched until the next morning. But this the \nreader may or may not believe ; for our own part Ave do not \nbelieve it. Nevertheless, General Gage had always the advan- \ntage of a movable force, ready to launch at any moment. \n\n\n356 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nIn the latter part of February, 1775, by order of General \nGage, Captain Brown of the 52d, and Ensign Berniere of the \n10th, went on a reconnoissance through Suffolk and Worcester \nCounties as far as the town of Worcester. Their mission -was \npurely military, and seems to point to an intention entertained \nby the General to march into the interior in force. The officers \nwere to observe the country as adapted to military operations, \nand M'ere to take sketches of the streams, defiles, and any ob- \nstacles likely to be encountered by an army in a hostile country. \nThey were disguised, and attempted to ])ass themselves off as \nsurveyors, but were everywhere recognized, watched, and har- \nassed. In March the same officers were despatched on a similar \nerrand to Concord. The British general was as well informed \nof the hostile preparations as, on their side, the provincials were \nthat he was meelitating a blow. Such was the situation of the \nparties on the 18th of April, 1775. \n\nMassachusettensis says Gage swore Avlien he came to Boston, \n\" I came to put the acts of the British Parliament in force, and \nby G — d I will do it.\" This declaration seems so clearly to \nignore the other side of the question that we cannot help re- \npeating the remark of Dr. Franklin to the Britons, who com- \nplained to him of the scurvy treatment the king's troo[)S had \nmet with at Lexington, from the Yankees getting behind stone- \nwalls and firing at them. The Doctor replied by asking them \nivkether there ivere not two sides to the ivcdls ! This anecdote \nwas repeated with a good deal of unction on the battle-ground \nby Washington, when on his tour in 1789. The retort would \nhave won for the philosopher in our time the now celebrated \nsobriquet of \" Stonewall.\" \n\nIt must have been after eleven o'clock when Colonel Francis \nSmith, of the 10th, with his eight hundred, landed at Lech- \nmere's Point from the boats of the men-of-war. It was a fine \nmoonlight night. The men were in light marching order, and \ntook no rations. Smith called his officers around him and told \nthem they were in no event to fire unless fired upon. The \nroads Avere all picketed by Gage's order the previous evening, \nand it is probable that if Kcvere — m ho was by this time on \n\n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. 357 \n\nhis ei'vaud — had not fallen in with o)ie of these patrols he \nwould have ridden plump into the main boily. Tlie troops \nmoved by old Charlestown Lane, later Milk Street, so that \nllevere's route intersected their line of march. Samuel Murray, \na tory, and the son of a pestilent tory, was their guide. \n\nTlie morning was chilly, the way unfrequented, and not a \nsound came out of the gloom in which the cohort was en- \nslirouded, save, perhaps, the rattling of scabbards in unison \nAvith the measuretl tramp, or where some amphibious batrachian \nsent up a dismal croak from the stagnant pools. The gallant \nWelsh, tlie gay marines, and the gracious, well-bred officers of \nthe light compaiues must have felt their spirits not a little in- \nfected by their inglorious undertaking. Smith unconsciously \nheld in his hand the wedge which was to split the British \nEmpire in twain. \n\nThe column moves on in silence past the old Davenport \ntavern,then standing at the corner of North Avenue and Beech \nStreets. Afar off the note of alarm had begun to sound M'ith \nthe awakening day. Eevere had roused the Medford bands. \nBells were beginning to ring out, and gunshots to explode on \nthe morning air, as we liave heard them many a time since in \nsome country village at tlie return of this day. Smith halts ; \nthe surprise has ended, and certes, Ave should say the soldiers' \nfaces might brighten at the prospect. Pitcairn moves off with \nliis six companies. An express goes back to the General for \nhelp. Then the word is \" ForAA'ard ! \" and the column presses \non. It passes tlie last rendezvous of the Revolutionary Com- \nmittee at the Black Horse in Menotomy, noAv Arlington, and \nElbridge Gerry, Orue, and Lee, escaping half dressed into the \nfields, throw themselves flat on their faces among the stubble. \nThe Avatch-dogs bark, but the shutters of the houses in the vil- \nlage are kept close draAvn, Avhile eager eyes peer forth into the \ndarkness. \" Close your ranks ! \" \" Press on ! \" are the oft-repeated \ncommands. Beside the old Tufts' tavern the soldiers halt to \nslake their thirst at a Avell now filled up, but Avliich Avas for- \nmerly in the space betAveen the tavern and the store. Men \nroused from sleep at the tread uf the British phalanx Avarily \n\n\n358 HisTorac mansions and highways. \n\nluuk out into the morning's obscurity. They see the moonlit \npoints of eight hundred bayonets glittering coldly above a moA''- \ning mass, which seems like the illusive images of a phantasma- \ngoria. They count the platoons, then, seizing their muskets, \ntake to the fields, where they meet their neighbors, all striving, \nwith a common impulse, to get ahead of the regulars' column. \n\nIt is a tradition in Arlington tliat the first person to give the \nalarm here was Cuff Cartwright, a negro slave, who lived at hi.s \nmaster's on the road, ]iot far from the pond. An officer gave \nthe black a dollar to silence him, but as soon as the detach- \nment had passed Cutiee struck across the fields and roused the \nneighborhood. \n\nIn Smith's ranks were a number of young officers belonging \nto the fleet, who embraced the opportunity for a run ashore \nwith all the enthusiasm and careless disregard of danger which \ncharacterizes the blue jacket the world over. Among them was \nPhilip d'Auvergne, Duke of Bouillon, who was then a lieutenant \non board the Asia, under Captain, afterwards Admiral, Vande- \nput, then lying in Boston harbor. On this day D'Auvergne nar- \nrowly escaped being made prisoner. He afterwards attended \nin the boats at Bunker Hill, and was in the expedition to Fal- \nmouth. It is worthy of remark that D'Auvergne and Nelson \nwere the only two officers under age wdio were permitted to \njoin the expedition to the Arctic in 1773- in the Carcass and \nEacehorse. \n\nThe British officers were fond of riding out into the country, \nand under the pretext of parties of pleasure had picked up a \ngood deal of knowledge of the roads and of the inhabitants. \nPitcairn himself had been out oil this business, as had also \nSamuel Graves, afterwards a British admiral. The Britons were \nfond of chaffing the countrymen, but were often unhorsed in a \ntilt of wits. It is related that one day a little knot of these \nofficers were approaching Waltham, Avhen they observed a \ncountryman sowing what appeared to be grain. \" Ho, fellow ! \" \nsays one of the officers, \"you may sow, but we shall reap.\" \n\"Waal,\" replied the native, \" pYaps you Avill ; I'm sowing \nhemp.\" The Britons pushed on a short distance, laughing at \n\n\nLECHMEKE's point to LEXINGTON. 359 \n\ntheir own discoiulitvire, but suuu returned and insisted that the \nYankee should accompany them to the next tavern, where he \ndrank as coolly as he had retorted at their expense, and re- \nturned to his labor. This anecdote has done duty in other \nconnections. Owing to the celerity of the march and the \nsuccess of his precautions, Smith's brigade arriA'ed within a \nmile and a quarter of the Lexington parade-ground before the \nmilitia had any notice of their aj^proach. \n\nIt is daybreak. The \" Foot of the Rockis,\" a mile above \nthe centre of the village of Arlington, is reached and passed. \nSmith and Pitcairn debouch on the fatal plain of Lexington. \nThey hoar the rebel drum, and the word is passed to halt, \nprime, and load. The groiind is littered where they stand with \nthe cartridge-ends, while eight hundred nervous arms are for- \ncing the lead down into as many musket-barrels. Forward ! \nThe leading companies wheel out of the road and into the \nCommon, where they see Parker's minute-men drawn up at the \nnorth end of the Green, near the Bedford road. The armed \nforces of authority and of rebellion here meet for the first time \nface to face. A British volley pealed out tlie knell of British \nascendency in the New World. \n\nPoor Pitcairn's memorj^ has suffered all the obloquy of hav- \ning given the order to fire. A \"thousand orators and writers \nhave attacked his memory in manner and form from that day to \nthis. It is only just to observe that British authorities are united \nin saying that the Americans gave the first fire. Lieutenant- \nColonel Smith, who was not with the vanguard when the fatal \nfiring took place, asserts it in his official report to General \nGage, which Avas based upon that of Major Pitcairn, and of \nother officers who were present, to himself. Nothing more \nconclusively shows the unreliability of some of the depositions \ntaken by direction of the Massachusetts Congress than the \nstatement that Colonel Smith was with the advance. \n\nMrs. Hannah Winthrop, the Avife of Dr. Winthrop of Cam- \nbridge, has left her impressions of the scenes of horror and dis- \nmay that took place when the news passed from house to house \nthat the regulars were out. She could never forget, nor could \n\n\n360 ■• HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ntime erase from her mind, tHe terrors created by tlie miduight \nalarm, when the peaceful inhabitants were roused from tlieir \nbeds by beat of drum and clarig of bells, with all the clamor, \nconfusion, and dread which such an event could inspire, — the \nmen hurriedly arming and hastening to the fray ; women la- \nmenting and wringing their hands in despair ; children weep- \ning and clinging to tlieir parents ; while the very house-dogs ' \nhowled with fright at the untoward sounds from the steeples. \n\nBut all were not bereft of reason by the sudden summons to \narms. We have glimpses of the fund wife, pale but resolute, \ngirding up the loins of her warrior ere he sets out for the field of \nblood ; of the mother buckling on the son's sword with a linger- \ning caress and benediction ; and of the aged sire taking down \nfrom its lodgement over the fireplace the old queen's arm he bore \nat Louisburg, which he now places in more youthfiU hands, and \ncommends to eyes yet able to sight along the clouded barrel. \n\n\" Ah ! then aud there was hum-yiug to and fro, \nAud gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, \nAud cheeks all pale which but an hour ago \nBlushed at the praise of their own loveliness.\" \n\nTo comprehend the affair of the 19th of April, 1775, the \nsituation of the buildings about the Common on that day must \nbe understood. Approaching with the troops from the direc- \ntion of Cambridge, the roads separated as they now do, — that \nleading to Concord passing to the left, that to Bedford and \nBiHerica diverging to the right. Within the triangular area \nformed by these roads was the Common, or Green, then unen- \nclosed. Upon a little elevation near the apex or southerly \nextremity of the Green stood the old church, built in 1714,^ a \nbarn-like structure of three stories, with a pitched roof. The \nbuilding had no proper belfry, but on a little structure placed \na short distance north of the meeting-house was a bell-tower, \nfrom which pealed forth the alarm on the memorable morning. \nThe church presented its side to the Concord road and its end \nto the Bedford road. It -was taken down in 1794, and a new \nedifice with a tower erected near the si)ot. This building was \ndestroyed by fire, and was then rebuilt where it now stands, at \n\n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. 361 \n\nthe northwesterly corner of the Common. The flagstaff is now \nplaced not far from the site of the old meeting-house, but since \nthe day when it stood here the southerly point of the Common \nhas been somewhat elongated. An oak-tree or two stood about \nthe meeting-house, and the Common itself was covered here and \nthere with luw brush. The little belfry stood on the site of \nthe monument. It was removed to the old Parker farm, on \nthe Waltham road, better known as the birthplace of Theodore \nParker, was bought by the local historical society, and placed \non Belfry Hill, back of the Hancock School. \n\nOn the right of the Bedford road and nearly opposite the old \nchurch was John Buckman's tavern, in which many of Parker's \nmen assembled before the arrival of the troops, and which \nserved as a refuge for some of the Americans afterwards. The \nfugitives fired upon the Britons from this house, and the shot- \nholes still seen in the clapboards attest that they drew the \nregulars' fire. Some of the British wounded Avere left here on \nthe retreat. The old inn, long owned by the Meriam family, \nremains nearly as it was in 1775, and is the most conspicuous \nlandmark of the battle-gTOund. The first post-office in the town \nwas here located. Some Lombardy poplars that formerly stood \nabout the building have now disappeared. The tavern, with its \nbarn and outbuildings, and the meeting-house and belfty, are \nshown in old views of the Common. \n\nOn the southwest side of the Concord road, and looking upon \nthe Common, Avere two houses, at least one of which is still \nstanding. On the north side of the Green were two dwellings, \nwith a blacksmith's shop between. The one nearest the Bed- \nford road was that of Jonathan Harrington, one of the vic- \ntims of the regulars' fire, whose wife witnessed his fall and tlie \nconvulsive efforts made by him to reach her side. The other \nhouse, then that of Daniel Harrington, was torn down shortly \nafter the Centennial celebration of 1875, and not rebuilt. In \nfront of it are some of the most magnificent specimens of our \ngrand American elm to be seen far or near. Doolittle's picture \nof the battle-ground was draAvn from this house. On the east \nof it was the well at which the king's men quenched their \n16 \n\n\n362 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\njj3&«\\ \n\n\nthirst, and behind the house now occupied by the families of \nHarrington and Swan was to be seen the quaint little black- \nsmith's, shop with one of those ugly orifices in the door made \nby a leaden ball. This completes our view of Lexington \nGreen in 1775. Except that the avenue on the north side \nwas a mere lane, and that the space has been enlarged at the \nsouthern extremity, the place is topographically the same as \non the day of the fight. \n\nThe British main body marched up the Concord road and \nremained there while the attack took place. A body of grena- \ndier.s moved into the Common by the Bedford road, deploying \nin front of the Americans, who were paraded some four or five \nrods east of the monument and near the Bedford road. At the \nfirst alarm the minute-men assembled between the tavern and \nthe meeting-house. \n\nLexington Common, as we see it to-day, bears little resem- \nblance to the green where the \nfirst death- volley rattled in 1775. \nThere is a triangidar enclosure, \nbordered by a double row of \nelms, some of large growth, oth- \ners of more recent planting. The \nfence, composed of stone posts \nwith wooden rails, seen in the \naccompanying picture has been \nremoved. \n\nThe battle-monument stands \nnear the west corner of the enclo- \nsure, not far from the ground \nwhere the first victims were \nstretched in their blood, and at a \ndozen peaces from the south side. \nIt is placed on a little knoll, is surrounded by an iron fence, \nand has the front with the inscription facing south. It is enough \nto say of tins monument, that its insignificant appearance, when \ncompared with the object it is intended to perpetuate, can arouse \nno other tiian a feeling of disappointment in the mind of the \n\n\nLEXINGTON MONUMENT. \n\n\nLECHMEEE'S point to LEXINGTON. 363 \n\npilgrim. The shaft is of granite, \"with a marble tablet bearing \nthe following inscription, written by Rev. Jonas Clark of Lex- \nington. Lafayette and Kossuth have both read it. \n\n\" Sacred to the Liberty and the Rights of Mankind ! ! ! The \nFreedom and Lidependence of America — Sealed and defended \nwith the blood of her sons — This Monument is erected by the In- \nhabitants of Lexington, under the patronage and at the expense of \nthe Commonwealth of Massachusetts, to the memory of their Fel- \nlow-citizens, Ensign Robert Monroe, Messrs. Jonas Parker, Samuel \nHadley, Jonathan Harrington, Junr., Isaac Muzzy, Caleb Harring- \nton and John Brown, of Lexington, and Asahel Porter, of Woburn, \nwho fell on this Field, the first victims of the Sword of British Tyr- \nanny and Oppression, on the morning of the ever-memorable Nine- \nteenth of April, An. Dom. 1775. The Die was Cast ! ! ! The blood \nof these Martyrs in the cause of God and their Country was the \nCement of the Union of these States, then Colonies, and gave the \nSpring to the Spirit, Firmness and Resolution of their Fellow-citi- \nzens. They rose as one man to revenge then Brethren's blood, and \nat the point of the Sword to assert and defend their native Rights. \nThey nobly dared to be Free ! ! ! The contest was long, bloody, and \naffecting. Righteous Heaven approved the Solemn Appeal ; Vic- \ntory crowned their Arms, and the Peace, Liberty, and Indepen- \ndence of the United States of America was their glorious Reward. \nBnih in the year 1799.\" \n\nThe bodies of the seven individuals belonging to Lexington \nwere originally enclosed in long wooden boxes made of rough \nboards, and buried in one grave in a corner of the town bury- \ning-ground, separate and distinct from all other graves. A few \nilays prior to the celebration in 1835, the remains were disin- \nterred and placed in a wooden coffin enclosed in lead and made \nair-tight, the whole being then placed in a mahogany sar- \ncophagus. At the conchision of the exercises on that occasion \nthe sarcophagus was deposited in the tomb constructed near the \nbase of the monument. When the bodies were exhumed the \ncoffins were completely decayed. The bones were also more or \nless decayed. \n\nThe people of Lexington, sensible of the impression Avhich the \nmonument gives the beholder, have some time contemplated the \n\n\n364 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbuilding of a new one on a more enlarged plan. This idea has \nfinally obtained expression in four memorial statues, which are \nplaced in the Town Hall ; two of which represent a soldier of \n1775 and of 1861 ; and two others of life size, John Hancock \nand Samuel Adams. The figure of Hancock, by Gould, is a \nwork of great elaboration. Its left hand holds a scroll, \nhaving the words, \"We mutually pledge to each. other our \nlives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.\" The statue of \nAdams is by Milmore. We must say that it does not \nappear from this measure how the defects of the old mon- \nument, with its too lengthy inscription, are to be remedied. \nThe memorials placed within four walls fail to inculcate \nany moral lesson, and are completely shut out from the obser- \nvation of the passer-by. The old monument, not being of \nitself a relic of the Revolution, its materials might be included \nin a new structure more properly commemorative of the event. \nIt stands just where it should, — on the spot -where the tocsin \nfirst sounded \" To arms ! \" It should not be inferred that vis- \nitors are not admitted with all courtesy to view the statuary, \nbut we should much like to see a shaft national in its character \nand worthy to illustrate one of History's most eventful pages, \nstanding on the ancient parade. \n\nThe troops, having finished their bloody work, and being \njoined by the rear column, re-form, give three huzzas for vic- \ntory, and push on for Concord. As, however fast they may \nmarch we shall be sure to overtake them, we desire the reader \nto accompany us to the old Clark house so called. \n\nWhat is now Hancock Street was the old Bedford road in \n1775. The parsonage was situated on the west side, a quarter \nof a mile distant from the old meeting-house. \n\nThe liouse belongs certainly to two, and perhaps to three, \nperiods. It is composed of a main building in the plain, sub- \nstantial style of the last century, and of a more antiquated \nstructure standing at right angles with it. The first confronts \nyou if you have come down the road from the Common ; the \nlast faces the street, from which the wliole structure stands \nback a little distance, with a space of green turf between. A \nlarge willow is growing in front of the main house, and on the \n\n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. 365 \n\nverge of the grass-plot stands an elm, its branches interlacing \nthose of a fellow-tree on the other side the way, so as to form a \ntriumphal arch under which no patriot should fail to pass. We \nhave christened the twain Hancock and Adams. Thus, at \nleast, it looked until its removal to a new site across the street \nand nearer the Common, where it now stands fronting north, \ninstead of south, reverently cared for by the local historical \nsociety. \n\nIn this house the afterwards proscribed fellow-patriots, Han- \ncock and Adams, Avere lodging at the time of the night march, \nof which one object was supposed to be their arrest. They \nwere advised by Gerry that the British officers were patrolling \nthe road with some sinister design. A guard of the town's \nalarm-list was placed about the house, and when Revere rode \nup, \" bloody with spurring,\" to warn the patriot leaders, he \nwas requested not to make a noise for fear of waking them. \n\" Noise ! \" quoth our bluff mechanic, \" you '11 have noise enough \nbefore long. The regulars are coming out ! \" After some \nfurther parley with the Rev. Mr. Clark, Hancock, who recog- \nnized his friend's voice, arose and bade him enter. William \nDawes, the other messenger sent by Warren, arrived soon after. \nThis was not long after midnight, and sleep, we may suppose, \nAvas banished the house for the remainder of the night. \n\nThe room occupied by \" king \" Hancock and \" citizen \" \nAdams is the one on the lower floor on the left of the entrance. \nCare has been taken to preserve its original appearance. The \nwoodwork, of Southern pine, has remained unpainted, acquiring \nAvith age a beautiful color. One side of the room is wainscoted \nup to the ceihng, the remaining Avails bearing the original paper \nin large figures. The staircase in the front hall has also re- \nmained innocent of paint, and is handsome enough for a chiirch. \nAge has given to the carved balusters and panelled casings a \nrichness and depth of hue that scorns the application of any \nunnatural pigment. The room we have just left is in the south- \nwest corner of the house. Passing to the opposite side of the \nhall, we enter the best room, which corresponds in finish Avith \nthat just described, except that the painter's brush has been \napplied to the Avainscot and neAver paper to the Avails. \n\n\n366 HISTORIC mansions and highways. \n\nIn this apartment there is no manner of doubt Hancock \ncourted \" Dorotliy Q.,\" while his graver friend discussed state- \ncraft with their reverend host, or, buried in thought, paced \nnp and down the grass-plot by the roadside. Dorothy, tlie \ndaugliter of Judge Edmund Quincy of Braintree, was at this \ntime living in the house under the protection of Madam Lydia \nHancock, the governor's aunt. When turned of seventy slie \nhad a lithe, handsome figure, a pair of laughing eyes, fine yel- \nlow ringlets in whicli scarcely a gray hair could be seen, and \nalthough for the second time a widow, was as sprightly as a girl \nof sixteen. AVhat her youth was the reader will be at no loss \nto infer. Charming, vivacious, and witty, with a little dash of \nthe coquette withal, one might pardon Colonel Hancock, late \nof the Boston Cadets, for becoming her devoted admirer. \n\nHancock had aspired to and obtained a military rank. He \nAvas a trifle of a dandy in his attire, particularly in his military \ngarb, when his points, sword-knot, and lace were always of the \nnewest fashion, and rivalled those of any of his Majesty's offi- \ncers. Gage revoked Hancock's commission, and the indignant \ncorps disbanded, flinging — figuratively — the governor's stand- \nartl in his face, Avhich made him as mad as a March hare. He \nis supposed to give his wrath utterance in verse : — \n\n\" Yonr Colonel H Ic by neglect, \n\nHas been deficient in respect ; \n\nAs lie my sov'reign toe ne'er kiss'd, \n\n'T was proper he should be dismissed ; \n\nI never was and never will \n\nBy mortal man be treated ill ; \n\nI never was nor never can, \n■ Be treated ill by mortal man. \n\n0, had I but have known before \n\nThe temper of your factious core, \n\nIt should have been my greatest pleasure, \n\nTo have prevented this bold measure. \n\nTo meet with such severe disgrace, \n\nMy standard flung into my face ! \n\nDisband yourselves ! — so cursed stout ? \n\nO had I, had I, tuni'd you out ! \" \n\nOn the 12th of June, 1775, Governor Gage by proclamation \n\n\nLECHMERE's point to LEXINGTON. 367 \n\nexempted Hancock and Adams from liis offer of a general par- \ndon, and declared all jJersuns who might give them aid or shel- \nter rebels and traitors. Copies of this document were jjosted in \nall the public places, and left Avith every householder in the \ntown of Boston. This being as far as the authority of the royal \ngovernor extended, the objects of his paper decree were never \nin any apprehension of their personal safety. Outlawry by the \nking's government was to make them the two most conspicuous \nfigures in the Colonies, and the selection of Hancock to preside \nover the Continental Congress partook largely of aiv act of \nbravado. Trumbull's burlesque of Gage's proclamation, which \nappeared in June, 1775, evidently formed the germ of his hu- \nmorous epic of MacFingal. \n\nHancock's martial pride, coupled, perhaps, with the feeling \nthat he must show^ himself, in the presence of his lady love, a \nsoldier worthy of her favor, inclined him to show fight w^hen \ntlie regulars were expected. His widow related that it was \nwith great difficulty that herself and the colonel's aunt kept \nhim from facing the British on that day. While the bell on \nthe Green was sounding the alarm, Hancock was cleaning his \nsword and fusee, and putting his accoutrements in order ; but \nat length the importunities of the ladies and the urgency of \nother friends prevailed, and he retired with Adams to a place \nof concealment. The astute Adams, it is recounted, a little \nannoyed perhaps at his friend's obstinacy, clapped him on the \nshoulder, and exclaimed, looking significantly at the weapons, \n\" That is not our business ; w^e belong to the cabinet.\" It will \nnow be easily understood by the reader why Hancock, who was \nalso a relative of Eev. Mr. Clark, chose to come so far from \nConcord, where the Congress was sitting, to lodge. \n\nThe patriots first repaired to the hill, then wooded, southeast \nof Mr. Clark's, where they remained until the troops passed on \nto Concord. They were afterwards conducted to the house of \nMadam Jones, widoM^ of Rev. Thomas Jones, and Rev. Mr. \nMarrett, in Burlington. From here, upon a new alarm, they \nretired to Mr. Amos AVyman's, in Billerica, leaving an elegant \nrepast, to which they had just sat down, untasted. Revere, \n\n\n368 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nafter his misadventure on the road to Concord, rejoined the \npatriots, as did also Madam Hancock and her niece. \n\nIt was while walking in the fields after hearing the firing \nthat Adams made the observation, \" It is a fine day.\" \" Very \npleasant,\" replied one of his companions, supposing him to \nmean the glories of the dawning day. \" I mean,\" said the \npatriot seer, \" tliis day is a glorious day for America.\" The \nveil was lifted, and perhaps he alone saw the end of which this \nwas the beginning. During the tiring random shots whizzed \npast the house he had quitted, and some of the wounded Amer- \nicans were brought into it to have their hurts cared for. The \nwhole affair on the Common was visible from this spot. \n\nThe house in which we have been loitering was built by \nThomas Hancock, the Boston merchant of whom we have \nalready had occasion to speak. He was not born until 1703, \nserved his time with Henchman, the stationer, and had not \nacquired wealth until a much later period ; so that we suppose \nthe building to have been erected about 1740, although the \ntablet reads 1698-1734. Thomas Hancock did not build \nhis own princely mansion in Boston until 1737. He was the \nson of the old Bishop Hancock, as he was called, who was \nordained in 1698 over a society which then inhabited this part \nof Cambridge, called \" the farms.\" The merchant, as soon as \nhis position enabled him to do it, doubtless looked to the more \nconvenient housing of his honored parent, who received his \nname of bishop on account of his great influence among the \nministers. Lexington was incorporated in 1712. \n\nThe best room communicates with the ancient or original \nhouse, which is seen fronting the street with its single story \nand picturesque dormer Avindows and roof. This part Avas \ndoubtless built by the bishop's parishioners soon after his settle- \nment. It formerly stood nearer the high-road until the new \nbuilding was completed, when it was moved back and joined \nupon it. The house is a A^eritable curiosity, and Avould not \nmake a bad depository for the household furniture and utensils \nof the period to which it belongs, being of itself so unique a \nspecimen of early NeAv England architecture. The floors and \n\n\n:/: \n\nw \n\n^ \n\n1 \n\n< \n\nf^ \n\n^ \n\n',^ \n\n■-: \n\nX \n\n\"~ \n\ny \n\nS^. \n\n•— ' \n\nr. \n\no \n\ni_ \n\nH \n\n*■ \n\n— \n\nO \n\np:3 \n\n- \n\n. \n\nfr, \n\n^vJ \n\n-^ \n\nhij \n\n1— » \n\ns \n\n— \n\np \n\nV: \n\n^ \n\nI— J \n\n^ \n\nH \n\n8 \n\nr^ \n\n^ \n\n■-_ \n\n^ \n\n»> \n\n^ \n\n1 \n\ny, \n\nO \n\n;< \n\nw \n\nn \n\n(/J \n\n^ \n\nvTl \n\n63 \n\n^ \n\nyj \n\n• \n\na \n\nk^ \n\nO \n\n^ \n\nc \n\nu \n\n?5 \n\nS \n\n>5 -X a \n\n\na: ?5, \n\n\n/C \n\ng \n\n2 \n\nr-> \n\nf— \n\nH \n\nc \n\nu \n\n^ \n\n^ \n\nK \n\n^ \n\n^ \n\n-> \n\n'—^ \n\n\"-r\" \n\nC \n\nt_Z \n\nX \n\nH \n\nP^ \n\n(^ \n\nW \n\nLECIIMERE'S POINT TO LEXINGTON. 369 \n\nwainscot are of hard wood, upon which time has left not the \nleast evidence of decay. The farmers clearly meant their min- \nister to inhabit a house of a better sort than their own, as is \napparent in the curious panelling of the outer door, which still \nretains its original fastenings, and in the folding shutters of the \nlittle study at the back. A cramped and narrow staircase con- \nducts to the chambers abo-\\'e, from the room in wliich we are \nstanding. The same old dresser is attached to the wall, gar- \nnished of yore by the wooden trenchers and scanty blue china \nof the good bishop's housekeeping. Some old three-legged \ntables are the only other relics of the former inhabitants. This \none room, according to the custom of the times, served as \nkitchen, dining-room, and for the usual avocations of the family. \nThe little study has the narrow windows which first admitted \nlight upon the ponderous foHos of the minister or the half- writ- \nten sheets of many a weighty sermon. And perhaps he listened \nhere to the tale of domestic wrong wTung in bitterness from \nsome aching heart, or A\\Testled in prayer with an awakening \nbut still struggling spirit. We see him in the common apart- \nment performing the marriage rite for some rustic swain and his \nbride, or reading aloud tlie news from the metropolis, which he \nalone of all the village receives. Teacher, guide, parent, and \nfriend, the clergyman of the olden time feared not to preach a \npolitical sermon or lay bare the abuses of society. In general, \nif something severe, he kept himself above reproach in his pri- \nvate life. He was steadfast, never confounding his flock with \na sudden change of doctrine. These were the men who laid \nline and plummet to the foundation-stone of New England \nsociety, and we yield them the respect their teachings haA^e \ngained for her sons. \n\nOn the day of the battle the clergymen followed their parish- \nioners to the field, with the town stores of ammunition, whicli \nthey busied themselves in distributing from their chaises. On \nthe Sunday ensuing those who had taken part in the fray stood \nup in the aisles of the churches, — many mth bullet-holes jn \ntheir garments, — Avhile thanks were publicly offered for their \nsafe return. The country was all on fire. The young men \n16* X \n\n\nS70 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nhastened to array themselves for the war that was seen to be \ninevitable. \" Arms ! \" was the cry, \" give us arms ! \" Hearken \nto one young, ardent spirit : \" I would not be without a gun if \nit costs me five guineas, as I shall be called a tory or something \nworse if I am without one. Pray don't fail of sending me a \ngun ! a gun ! a gun and bayonet ; by aU means a gun ! a gun ! \" \n\nAt the celebration in 1783 Hancock, then governor, was \npresent, again sojourning at Mr. Clark's. At the appointed \ntime Captain Munroe appeared Avith his company, and escorted \nhis Excellency to the meeting-house, where Rev. Mr, Adams of \nLunenburgh preached the anniversary sermon. Cannon were \nHred, and the United States flag hoisted at sunrise over Cap- \ntain Brown's, and near the spot where the militia were slain. \nThe Rev. Mr. Clark has recounted the events of the day, which \nhe witnessed in part from his own house. \n\nThe old burial-ground of Lexington is so secluded that the \nstranger might pass it without suspecting its vicinity, if some \nfriendly hand did not guide him to the spot. It lies back of \nthe Unitarian Church, and is reached by a little avenue from \nthe street. We looked for the older graves here with the same \nill success which has befallen in many similar places. The \n\" forefathers of the hamlet \" have scarcely left their traces upon \nthe stones. There is a handsome marble monument over the \nremains of Governor Eustis, erected by his wadow, the daughter \nof Hon. Woodbury Langdon of Portsmoutli. She lived to the \ngreat age of eighty-four, and now reposes by the side of her \nhusband. The stone for the governor's monument was quarried \nin the Berkshire Hills. \n\nThe noise which the battle of Lexington made reached Eng- \nland. A subscription was raised in London and forwarded for \nthe relief of the widows and orphans of those who fell here and \nall along the blood-stained road. Walpole deplored it in a let- \nter to Sir Horace Mann, and Rogers, the poet's father, put on \nmourning. The fatal news was carried from Salem to England \nby Richard Derby, reaching there May 29. \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO )RD. 371 \n\n\nCHAPTEE XVII. \n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. \n\n\" Why, GUI' battalia trebles that account ; \nBesides, the king's name is a tower of strength, \nWhich they upon the adverse faction want.\" \n\nShakespeare. \n\nIT would be difficult to imagine a more beautiful Indian \nsummer's day than that on which we marched from Lexing- \nton to Concord with the ghosts of Colonel Smith's command. \nA heav^'- frost still incrusted the grasses and shrubbery by the \nwayside, but the energetic rays of the sun speedily transformed \nthe beautiful crystal masses into commonplace grass and shi'ub. \nSome respectable hills, now made more passable by nearly a \nhundred years' labor of the sturdy tax-payers of old Middle- \nsex, must have tried the sinews of the king's troops, already \nwearied with their ten miles of hurried tramp from Lechmere's \nPoint. They may have paused, as we did, on the summit of the \nhighest of these, to breathe awhile and glance at the glistening \nwhite tower of Bedford Church, before descending into the \nplain of Concord. \n\nThe road over which the troops marched and retreated is in \nsome places disused, except for the accommodation of the neigh- \nboring farm-houses. Fiske's Hill, a high eminence a mile and \na thii'd from Lexington, is now avoided altogether. Another \nsegment of the old highway, grass-grown and roughened by the \nwashings of many winters, enters the main road at an abandoned \nlime-kiln, before you reach the Brooks tavern. In this vicinity \none of the severest actions of the 1 9th of April was fought. \n\nIt was in the days of the epizootic, and the high^vay was as \ndeserted as could have been desired for our purpose. Proceeding \nonward, a farm-house almost always in view, there seemed a \n\n\n372 HISTORIC ( 3NS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nsort of fascination in tli> , moss-grown, tumble-down stone- \nwalls. No great stretch oi imagination was necessary to con- \nvert them into the ramparts of a century ago, behind which the \nrustic warriors crouched and levelled the deadly tubes. \n\nA grand old elm standing sentinel at the entrance of the \ntown may have murmured a challenge to the advancing war, or \nwaved back the scarlet array with its then youthful arms. But \nthe goal was almost reached. The officers tighten their sword- \nbelts ; the men fasten their gaiters and fix their grenadier caps \nmore firmly. Onward ! \n\nThe high hill around which the road winds as it enters \nConcord is the position from which the Americans viewed the \napproach of the regulars, and which was immediately occupied \nby a British detachment. By his spies Smith knew the places \nAvhere the munitions were deposited. The bands disperse to \ntheir allotted work. \n\nConcord is one of those places which, not having any scenic \nfeatures sufficiently marked to arrest the tourist, has yet found \n— • and this apart from its battle reminiscences — a group of \nwriters who have made it one of exceeding and wide-spread \nattractiveness, so that no town in New England, we will ven- \nture to say, is so well known to the Avorld in general. And \nthis, as in the play which but for the excellent acting would \nbe doomed to fatal mediocrity, is what Emerson, Hawthorne, \n' Charming, Thoreau, Alcott, pere and fille, with others unnamed, \nhave done for quiet, inland Concord. Nature knew it in the • \ncommonplace pastoral sense. War left the print of her bloody \nhand there. Man's intellect has breathed upon it, and clothed \nit with such beauty that we seem to see gems sparkling in the \ndrifts of gravel, nuggets among the river's sands, and feel an \nuncontrollable desire to view for ourselves all those objects by \nwhich our interest has been fixed while regarding the picture \nfrom a distance. And a closer acquaintance confirms our pre- \npossession. \n\nAt the very entrance of the town, but at the distance of about \na mile from the public square, are several dwellings consecrated \nby pleasant memories. The hill itself, a brave old headland. \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCOKD. 373 \n\nthrows its protecting arm around the northern and eastern sec- \ntion of the settled portion of Concord. Were a second invasion \nof the place ever again to occur, a few pieces of cannon posted \nhere would, with the possession of some outlying hills, effectu- \nally command the approaches and the town itself. The hill-top \nforms a generaUy level plateau, sinking gradually away near \nthe northerly extremity of the public square, where a section \nof it has been removed to place in orderly array some handsome \nbuildings. Following the base of the hill through the town, \nwith your face to the north, you arrive at the site of the old \nNorth Bridge, of which hereafter. Upon the simimit and \nslopes of this eminence is the ancient burial-place, considered \nby many the oldest in Concord. Here you may command a \nsuperb view of the town at your feet ; of Concord River, -vidth \nits fertile meadows ; and of the hills which rise and stretch \naway along the northwest, where the Americans rallied after \nretreating from the town, and gathered strength for their onset. \nIn this same hillside the first settlers burrowed in caves ; and \nwe are left not only to wonder at their endurance, but to mar- \nvel at the patience and humility ■wdth which they recount their \nprivations. The hill was the key to Concord in 1775, and the \nBritish seized and held it until they evacuated the place. \n\nTlie much renovated Jiouse, with its pointed gables and its \nsquare tower between, is that in which Hawthorne lived after \nhis return from his English consulate. The house itself is al- \nmost hid from view among the masses of evergreen by which \nit is surrounded. For some distance a cool walk skirts the \nstreet, — a row of thickly-set larches next the road, with an \ninner rank of firs or spruces. These trees were set out by \nHawthorne. Back of the house, and dominating above it, the \nhill ascends in terraces, but so densely is it covered with ever- \ngreen-trees, planted by Alcott when he lived here, as to resem- \nble nothing more than a young forest of native growth. The \ncharacter of the trees which Hawthorne chose to have about \nhim conveys the idea that he loved their constant verdure and \nbalmy breath, if, indeed, he was not susceptible to the subtle \nand saddening influence of the bared and wintry arms of the \nstatelier woodland varieties. \n\n\n374 IIISTOUIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nPartly ancient and. in part modern, the novelist's dwelling \nhas little or nothing peculiar to itself except the before-men- \ntioned tower, which he built in defiance of architectural rules \non the top of the house. Towards the road, this retreat over- \nlooked a broad reach of sloping meadow in the highest state of \ntillage. Hill and dale, stream and pool, with all those concom- \nitants of New England landscape which the artist so well knew \nhow to weave into his pen-pictures, are here in the charming \nprospect. From the back window appeared the dark masses of \nevergreens with their needles glistening in the sun. As we \nlooked out of the little study, we could not believe pagan ever \nworsliipped fire more than Hawthorne loved nature. \n\nWe are told that the astrologers of old always pursued their \nstudies of the heavens from some lofty castle-turret, whither \nthe would-be questioner of Fate was conducted, bewildered by \nlong, wmding staircases, to find himself at last in the wizard's \ncabinet, confronted by all his unearthly and startling parapher- \nnalia. A corner of the arras is lifted, and the man of destiny \nappears. \n\nAscending to Hawthorne's watch-tower of genius, the eye \nwas first arrested by two cupboards of stained wood, standing on \neither side of tlie single window with wliich the rear wall is \nfurnished. These closets were each decorated with a motto \nin white paint, as follows: \" All care abandon ye that enter \nhere\" ; \" There is no joy but calm.\" Above the window was the \none word, \" Olympus.\" This, then, thought we, is the abode \n(if the gods, — the summit sung by Homer and the poets. En- \nclosing the stairs was a pine box with such a movable shelf as is. \nsometimes seen in a country school-house, appropriated to the \nvillage pedagogue. This was Hawthorne's desk, at which he \nis said to have written \" Septimius Felton,\" the last of his works. \nPerched upon a high stool, with his back to the landscape, and \nhis face resolutely turned towards his blank wall of stained deal, \nwe may picture the sorcerer, with massive, careworn brow and \nfeatures of the true Puritan stamp, tracing the horoscope of his \nfleshless creations. The house had since become a boarding- \nschool for young ladies, kept by Miss Pratt, the study appro- \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. 375 \n\npriated as a sleepiiig-apartiaeiit for scliool-girls whose dreams \nwere not vexed by its former celestial occupants. \n\nFranklin Pierce, the college chum of Hawthorne at Bowdoin, \ncame here to visit his old friend, whom he had given a highly \nlucrative appointment abroad. The \" Scarlet Letter \" was pro- \nduced while Hawthorne was surveyor of the port of Salem \nunder General Miller, the old hero of Lundy's Lane. With \nhis intimates, in the days of his custom-house experience, — \nand they were confined to a chosen few, — he was less taciturn \nthan he afterwards became. But even among these he often \nappeared absent, gloomy, and misanthropical, as if some disap- \npointment weighed upon him and had despoiled him of his \nyoung maidiood. \n\nOur author is one of those figures best contemplated from \na distant stand-point, as some tall peak, lifting itself above \nits lesser companions from afar, sinks into the general mass at \na nearer approach, giving no token of the subterranean fires \nthat glow -ttdthin its foundations. We know him better by his \nworks than by actual contact with himself, but we have not had \nin America a mind of so antique a stamp as his, even if his \nimaginings are something weird, and his characters partake \nlargely of the attributes of spectres who walk the earth because \nthe master wills it. \n\nSome of Hawthorne's productions, when a lad of fourteen, \nand thought to be authentic, have lately come to light. It ap- \npears that his literary tastes were first stimulated by an uncle, \nthe brother of his mother, who resided at Raymond, Maine, \nwhither Mrs. HaAvthorne had removed after her husband's \ndeath, at Havana, of yellow-fever. These early effusions, which \nare descriptive of some of the events of his life in Maine, do \nnot exhibit any of those flashes of genius for which the man \nwas famous, although excellent pieces of composition for a youth' \nin his teens. Hawthorne there speaks of the spur which his \nUncle Richard's praises gave him. \n\nHaAvthorne's intellect was too fine for the multitude. His \nplane did not conduct to the popular heart. His writings teem \nwith sombre tints, and oftenest lead to a tragic termination ; \n\n\n376 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbut his fancies are always striking and his descriptions often \nmarvellous. He seemed to walk apart, in an atmosphere of his \nown, seldom, if ever, giving note of what was within. Burns \nwas an exciseman, and Hawthorne a ganger. Both were given \nto convivial indvdgence, but the Scotsman's mood was in general \nless gloomy than the American's. \n\nAdjoining Hawthorne's is the house which Alcott formerly \nlived in. Curtis has indulged in some quiet pleasantry at \nthe expense of the practical cast of tlie philosopher's mind as \napplied to rural architecture, but for our own part, after having \ntrampled half New England under foot, we can commend the \ntaste which Alcott had applied to the restoration of his dwell- \ning. Not so, however, with the rustic fence which separated \nhis domain from the road. It appeared to have been com- \nposed of the relics of sylvan surgery, the pieces being selected \nwith references to knobs, fungi, and excrescences. This is \nnot what we should call putting one's best foot foremost by \nany means. Who likes to think of a Dryad with a wart on \nher nose or a woodland nymph with a hump? \n\nApropos of trees, they bear their ills as well as poor human- \nity. Go into the forest and see how many are erect and \nrobust and how many bent and sickly. One in a hundred, \nperhaps, is a perfect specimen, the remaining ninety and nine \nare subject to some blemish. Nevertheless we do not advo- \ncate the collection of the diseased members by the wayside. \n\nAlcott was by all accounts a pattern of industry. He i's one \nof the few men who have kept a daily journal of passing events, \nin itself a work of no small labor and value. A walking ency- \nclopaedia, he is frequently consulted for a date or an incident. \n\" I wish,\" said Webster, \" I had kept a record of my life.'' \nAnd who does not echo the wish 1 \n\nWhen Alcott was keeping school at Cheshire, in Connecticut, \nthe fame of his original plan of instruction came to the knowl- \nedge of the late Samuel J. May, who invited him to visit him, \nin order to know more of the man whom he felt assured must \nbe a genius. The result of this visit was an attachment be- \ntween Mr. Alcott and Mr. May's sister, Abigail, which led to \ntheir marriage in 1830. Says Mr. May : — \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCOKD. 377 \n\n\" I have never, but in one other instance, been so completely taken \npossession of by any man I have ever met in life. He seemed to me \nlike a born sage and saint. He was radical in all matters of reform ; \nwent to the root of all things, especially the subjects of education, \nmental and moral culture. If his biography shall ever be written \nby one who can appreciate him, and especially if his voluminous \nwritings shall be properly published, it wiU be known how unique \nhe was in wisdom and purity.\" \n\nIt is well known that Alcott was among the little band of \nautislavery reformers, or agitators, as they were called twenty \nodd years ago. So deeply was lie impressed with the wicked- \nness of supporting a government which recognized slavery, that \nhe refused to pay his poll-tax. As a consequence, one day an \nofficer came mth a warrant and arrested the philosopher. His \nloving wife soon packed a little tin pail of provisions, adapted \nto the w^ants of a vegetarian in seclusion, with which Alcott \ncontentedly trudged off to jail. Arrived here, the officer de- \nlivered his prisoner up, but the person in charge, astoni.shed to \nsee Alcott there, invited him to sit down in the waiting-room \nuntil his cell could be made ready. Word was then sent to one \nof Alcott's fi'iends, said to be Samuel Hoar, whi' came forward \nand paid the tax. Whereat Alcott waxed inc^ignant, for he \nwas as anxious to get into jaU as most men would be to get out \nof it. He stood on liigh moral, if not financial grVni^ds^an^ \nhad no idea of rendering unto Caesar the sinews of e-vrj], go \nthe example was lost, the wheels of governnicjit ruovfel oj; un- \nclogged, and Alcott motirnfully returned to his ]i '^\" ' > \n\nAt the time of this episode the idea of (uimniir ticH wa;^ a fa-^ \nvorite project with the transcendentalists. Brook ''^irm d'.d not \ngo far enough for philosophers of the ultra scIkkiI, 'A^« Em,;',rson \nand Alcott. They carried individualism tc* the point wh ich per- \nmits the citizen to choose, absolutely, the form of government \nunder which he shall live. They refused animal food, agrv^^d by \ntacit league and covenant not to make use of the products of \nslavery or pay taxes, and believed they could get along without \nmoney. The experiment at Harvard resulted, and was in less \nthan a year abandoned by its projectors, who may, nevertheless, \n\n\n378' HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nclaim the merit of having put their design into actual execu- \ntion while others have only dreamed and talked. \n\nAlcott, with the other reformers, soon realized that society is \nnot to be improved by seceding from it. He then sets himself \nto work within the hive, talking, writing, printing, and mak- \ning use of the appliances they were once so ready to surrender. \nAlcott was above six feet, and but little bent, even when he \nhad exceeded his threescore and ten. His silver hairs and \ndignified appearance rendered him an object of respectful curi- \nosity, whom few passed without turning for a second glance \nut his tall figure. He spoke with earnestness and simplicity, \nconveying the idea of a man thoroughly honest in his convic- \ntions, pure in his motives, and faithful in his friendships. \n\nAlcott lived in an old liouse, which ' '~ad made very com- \nfortable without destroying its distinctive antique character. \nThe grounds reach back into the hillside, whicli here seems in- \ndented on purpose for a romantic little dell. The authoress of \n\" Little Women\" has, we are told, christened the place \" Apple \nSlump,\" wherefore, 0 reader, demand of the sibyl, not of us. \nTwo patriarchal elms, with rustic seats at the foot, are the \nguardians of AJ.cott's home, — just such a one in which you \nwould look fcjt an honest, hearty welcome, and find it. \n\nOne of M^' Alcott's daughters, Louisa May, has made a \nbroad ai;d^'^^'^''H n;iurk with her pen. The world knows from \nher that ^thero aie old-fashioned girls with hearts and brains, \n\n- and litt^\" Wvime^ with ^reat souls. It may interest anjbitious- \nyoung writer? (q know that when Alcott brought tb a certain \n\n^ publisli^''^ the \\IS. of some stories for boys,, it was declined \nwith *he hq.pvy .suggestion of \" Get your daughter to write a \nstory |pr girlr,-' \" j^jje (.3^ ^^ jj, ^ gj^e has a mind to ! \" ex- \nclaimed Alfjit,, bringing his hand down on the desk, at which \nhe atoodi by way of emphasis. \" Little Woinen \" was t^e \nresult. \n\nAt the intersection of the Lexington with the old Boston \nroad is Ralph Waldo Emerson's, dwellirig, built in 1828 by \nCharles Coolidge, grandson of Jos.ep,l\\ Coplidge, one of the mag- \nnates of thp West End of Qld Bpatpn, where, he had a fiop \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. 379 \n\nestate. It is a coincidence, whicli led Samuel Parkman, another \nold-time resident of Bowdoin Square in that town, to inhabit \nthe ancient rough-cast house which stands somewhat farther on \nby the burying ground. The Coolidge house passed into Mr. \nEmerson's possession in 1835. It is a plain, square building, \npainted a light color, which you would pass without notice un- \nunless apprised of its former ownership. By some accident \nthe house was badly injured by fire, during Mr. Emerson's \nlifetime, but was skilfully restored to its former appearance, \nto the great delight of his townsmen. \n\nIn the grove of pines which stands at the extremity of Mr. \nEmerson's grounds, Alcott erected with his own hands the \nsummer-house which Curtis says was not technically based and \npointed, but Avhich he still speaks of with evident pride. As \nno vestiges of it now remain, m-o infer tliat it fulfilled the \nadverse destiny predicted for it. \n\nThere is amusement and instruction in the story of how, at \nEmerson's suggestion, Hawthorne, Akott, Thoreau, and Curtis \nmet at his house for mutual interchange of ideas. The plan \nwas excellent, the failure complete. The elements for spark- \nling wit or brilliant thought we'^^ there, but the combination \nwould not take place. In vain F-merson, with his keen and \npolished lance, struck the shield of I'Hch with its point. Only \na dull thud resulted, instead of the exp'^cted coruscation. HaM'- \nthorne was mute, while the rest struggled manfully but in vain \nto produce the ethereal spark. Three Mondays finished the club \n\nSome of Mr. Emerson's pupils, when he kept school in the \nold house at Cambridge, are noM' white-haired men, who recall \nwith a smile how, for discipline's sake, they were sometime- \nsent into the Widow Emerson's room to study. As a teachej \nhe was mild and gentle, leaving agreeable impressions on th ■ \nminds of his scholars. The school Avas in Brattle Street, oppo- \nsite the Brattle House. \n\nThoreau, the hermit-naturalist, lived in a house built by him \nself in 1 845 on the shore of Walden Pond, his literary friend; \nhelping him one afternoon to raise it. It is said he never wen' \nto church, never voted, and never paid a tax in the State ; foi \n\n\n380 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwhich contempt of the tax-gatherer he passed at least one night \nin jail. It is evident from his writings that Thoreau gloried \nin Nature, and that his soul expanded while he communed with \nher. She was his meat and drink. He craved no other society, \nputting to flight in his own person the crystallized idea that \nman is a gregarious animal. He calls upon hill and stream as \nif they would reply, and in truth the Book of Nature was never \nshut to him. A revival of interest in the character of Thoreau \nis manifest, an interest which no man is better able to satisfy \ntlian his friend Channing. \n\nGeorge William Curtis Avas for a tune a resident of Concord, \na)id Lieutenant Derby,^ better remembered as \"John Phoenix,\" \nboyond comparison the keenest of our American humorists, it is \nsaid some time tended a shop here. Frederick Hudson, author \nof \" Journalism in America,\" was also an inhabitant of this town. \n\nConcord, on the day of invasion in 1775, although a place \nof consiilt'vabl(i importance, contained but few houses scattered \nuvcr a >vide area. The-^^ld me(4ing-house, similar in appear- \njince to the one at Lexington, / stood in its present position. \nA square building at the cornfir of Main Street and the Com- \nmon, was then Icnown as Wright's 'i avern, and was the alarm- \npost of the provincial.s. This hou(r-3 alone, of those standing \nalong tills side of the SiJuare at th.it time, is still remaining. \nOn the opposite corner of Main Street, where is now the Mid- \ndlesex lioT.el, was Dr. Minott's residence. Between this and \nthe engine-house, on ground iiow lying between the latter and \nthe priest's house (formerly known as the county house), was \nthe old court-house, built in 1719, a square building with little \nold-fashioned belfry, steeple, and weather-vane, bearing the date \nof 1673. The northerly end of the public square was occupied \nby the residence of Colonel Shattuck, which, with some altera- \ntion, is still on the same spot. This brings us to the point of \nthe hill, previously described, around which the road wound to \nthe river, which it passed by the North Bridge. At this point, \nwhere the road diverges from the Square, Mr. Keyes's house \nformerly stood. Since 1794 the court-house has occupied the \nside of the Square opposite its old location, while the jail was \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. 381 \n\nremoved from its situation on Main Street to its late site iii tho \nrear of and between the Middlesex Hotel and the priest's. The \nhouse described as Minott's became, after the war, a tavern \nkept by John Richardson of Newton. At no great distancG \nfrom the soldiers' monument stands a magnificent elm, which \nonce served as the whipping-post to which culprits were tied up. \n\nMain Street, which we now propose to follow a certain dis- \ntance, conducted towards the South Bridge which crossed the \nriver by Hosmer's. In 1775 it was merely a causeway leading \nto the grist-mill which then stood on the spot now occupied by \nstores, next the old Bank and opposite Walden Street. A \nfew steps farther and you reach the second of the burial- \nplaces in the town, in which lie the remains of gallant John \nHosmer, who, \" although in arms at the battle of Concord and \na soldier of the Continental Army, was in all his life after a \nman of peace.\" Beyond the bnrying-ground was the second \nsituation of the jail built here in 1770. It was a wooden build- \ning with gambrel roof, standing on the estate of the late Reuben \nRice. On the same estate was the old tavern formerly known as \nHartwell Bigelow's. Prior to the erection of the first jail in \n1754, prisoners were confined in Cambridge and CharlestoAvn, \nConcord, having ceased to be one of the shire towns of Middle- \nsex, now contains neither jail nor malefactors. \n\nIn 1775 the tavern mentioned as Bigelow's was kept by \nCaptain Ephraim Jones, who had also charge of the jail. Gen- \neral Gage wrote home to England that the people of Concord \nwere \"sulky\" while his troops were breaking open their houses, \nflinging their property into the mill-pond, and killing their \nfriends and neighbors ! Of what stuff the inhabitants of Con- \ncord were made in the estimation of the king's officer we are \nunable to conjecture, but we have his word for it that they \nwere \"sulky, and one of them even struck Major Pitcairn.\" \nEphraim Jones was the man. He should have a monument for \nthe blow. \n\nPitcairn went straight to Jones's .tavern, where he had often \nlodged, sometimes in disguise. This time he found the door \nshut and fastened. As Jones refused to open, Pitcairn ordered \n\n\n382 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nhis greiuulii.'i'j; to break down the door, and, being the first to \nenter, rushed against Jones with such violence as to overthrow \nthe unluckj'- innkeeper, who was put under guard in his own \nbar, while Pitcairn, with a pistol at his breast, commanded him \nto divulge the places where the stores were concealed. The \ncrestfallen Boniface led the way to the prison, where the British \nwere surprised to find three 24-pounders in the yard, completely \nfurnished with everything necessary for mounting. The Major \ndestroyed the carriages, knocked off the trunnions of the guns ; \nand then, feeling his usual good-humor return with certain \ngnawings of his stomach, retraced his steps to the tavern and \ndemanded breakfast, of which he ate heartily and for which he \npaid exactly. Jones resumed his rdle of innkeeper, and found \nhis revenge in the transfer of many silver shillings bearing \nKing George's effigy from the breeches pockets of the king's \nmen to his own greasy till. \n\nThe jail is also connected with another incident of interest. \nA battalion of the 71st Highlanders, which had sailed from \nGlasgow in the George and Annabella transports, entered Bos- \nton Bay, after a passage of seven weeks, during which thej^ had \nnot spoken a single vessel to apprise them of the evaciiation. \nThey were attacked in the bay by privateers, which they beat \noft' after being engaged from morning until evening. The trans- \nports then boldly entered Nantasket Road, where one of our \nbatteries gave them the first intimation that the port was in \npossession of the Americans. After a gallant resistance the ves- \nsels were forced to strike their colors. The Highlanders, under \nthe orders of their lieutenant-colonel, Archibald Campbell, \nfought with intrepidity, losing their major, Menzies, and seven \nprivates killed, besides seventeen wounded. Menzies Avas buried \nin Boston with the honors of war, and Campbell sent a prisoner \nto Readmg, while the men were distribixted among the interior \ntowns for safety. \n\nThis regiment, raised at the commencement of the American \nwar, was one of the most famous levied among the Highland \nclans. It was composed of two battalions, each twelve hundred \nstrong, and was commanded by Simon Fraser, the son of that \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. 383 \n\nLord Lovat who had been beheaded m 1 747 for supporting the \nPretender's cause. Each battalion was completely officered, and \ncommanded by a colonel. Another Simon Eraser was colonel \nof the second battalion, — the same of which the larger number \nwere captured in Boston Bay. \n\nThere was a great desire to enlist in this new regiment, more \nmen offering than could be accepted. One company of one \nhundred and twenty men had been raised on the forfeited estate \nof Cameron of Lochiel, which he was to command. Lochiel \nwas ill in London, and unable to join. His men refused to \nembark without him, but after being addressed with persuasive \neloquence, in Gaelic, by General Eraser, they returned to their \nduty. While their commander was speaking, an old High- \nlander, who had accompanied his son to Glasgow, was leaning \non his staff, gazing at the General with great earnestness. When \nhe had finished the old man walked up to him and said, famil- \niarly, \" Simon, you are a good fellow, and speak Kke a man. \nAs long as you live Simon of Lovat will never die.\" \n\nWhen Sir William Howe refused to exchange General Lee, \n\n— and it was reported he had been placed in close confinement, \n\n— Congress ordered a retaliation in kind. Campbell, one of the \nvictims, was brought to Concord, and lodged in the jail of \nwhich we are writing. His treatment was unnecessarily severe, \nthe authorities placing the most literal construction upon the \norders they received. He complained in a dignified and manly \nletter to Sir William, with a description of his loathsome prison. \nBy Washington's order his condition was mitigated, and he was \nafterwards exchanged for Ethan Allen. In the Southern cam- \npaign he fought us with great bravery, and lived to be a British \nmajor-general. \n\nBut to resume our topography. Main Street was also for- \nmerly the old Boston and Harvard road, which left the Com- \nmon by the cross-way entering Walden Street, opposite the old \nHeywood tavern, since the property of Cyrus Stow. Within \nthe space between this cross-way and Main Street and Walden \nStreet and the Common was the mill-pond which played so \nimportant a part in the transactions of the 19th of April, but \n\n\n384 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthe existence of which would not be suspected by the stranger. \nThe mill-pond has, in fact, disappeared along with the dam, — \nthe little brook to which it owed its existence now finding its \nway underground, and flowing onward unvexed to Concord \nEiver. We ask the reader to circumnavigate with us the old \nmill-pond. \n\nPursuing our way along the south side of Walden Street, we \nsoon come to what is called the \" Hubbard Improvement,\" a \nlarge tract through which a broad avenue has been opened. \nUpon this land, where the cellar and well were still to be seen, \nwas once a very ancient dwelling, known as the Hubbard House. \nIt had a long pitched roof, which stopped but little short of the \nground, and from which projected two cliimneys, both stanch \nand strong. The old well-sweep, now an unaccustomed object in \nour larger towns, had done unwiUing service for the king's men \nin '75, creaking and groaning as it drew the crystal draughts \nfrom the cool depths. The house had been visited by these \nsame redcoats, and its larder laid under severe contribution. \n\nA little farther on was the dwelling and corn-house of Cap- \ntain Timothy Wheeler, the miller, whose successfid ruse-de-guerre \nsaved a large portion of the Colony flour, stored along with his \nown. The story has often been told, but will bear repetition. \n\nWhen the troops appeared at his door, he received them in a \nfriendly manner, inviting them in, and telling them he was glad \nto see them. He then asked them to sit do-wn, and eat some \nbread and cheese, and drink some cider, which they did not \nhesitate to do. After satisfying themselves, the soldiers went \nout and Avere about to break open the corn-house. Wlieeler \ncalled to them not to trouble themselves to split the door, as, \nif they would wait a minute, he would fetch the keys, and open \nhimself ; which he did. \" Gentlemen,\" said the crafty Yankee, \n\" I am a miller. I improve those mills yonder by which I get \nmy living, and every gill of this floui' \" — at the same time \nputting his hand on a bag of flour that was really his own — \n\" I raised and manufactured on my own farm, and it is all my \nown. This is my store-house. I keep my flour here iintil such \ntime as I can make a market for it.\" Upon this the officer in \n\n\nLEXINGTON TO CONCORD. 385 \n\ncommand said, \" Well, I believe you are a pretty honest old \nchap ] you don't look as if you would hurt anybody, and we \nwon't meddle with you.\" He then ordered his men to march. \n\nHeywood's tavern was vigorously searched by the troops for \na fugitive who had brought the alarm from Lexington. He, \nhowever, eluded their pursuit by getting up the chimney, where \nhe remained until the search was given over. If the reader is \nsurprised at finding so many houses of entertainment in Old \nConcord, he must remember it was the ancient seat of justice \nfor Middlesex, and on the high-road from the capital to the \nNew Hampshire Grants. \n\nThe hill burying-ground is now thickly covered with a growth \nof young locust-trees, which somewhat obstruct the view, al- \nthough they impart fragrance to the air and shade to tlie \nclose-set graves. The oldest inscription here is dated in 1G77. \nIt is credible that the settlers who first made theh homes \nin this hillside should have carried their dead to its summit. \n\"We observed here what we considered to be the rude sepid- \nchral stones seen in Dorchester and other ancient gi'avej^ards. \n\nOne inscription usually attributed to the pen of Daniel \nBhss, has been much admired. \n\n\" God wills us free ; — man wills us slaves. \n\nI will as God wills ; God's will be done. \n\nHere lies the body of \n\nJohn Jack \n\nA native of Africa who died \n\nMarch, 1773, aged about sixty years. \n\nThough born in a land of slavery, \n\nHe was born free. \n\nThough he lived Lii a land of liberty. \n\nHe lived a slave ; \n\nTill by his honest though stolen labours, \n\nHe acquired the source of slavery, \n\nWhich gave him his freedom ; \n\nThough not long before \n\nDeath, the grand tyi-ant, \n\nGave him his final emancipation, \n\nAnd put him on a footing with kings, \n\nThough a slave to vice, \n\nHe practised those virtues, \n\nWithout which kings are but slaves.\" \n\n17 V \n\n\n386 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. \n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. \n\n\" That same man that runnith awaie, \nMale again fight an other dale.\" \n\nErasmus. \n\nTHE area -which we have heen thus circumstantial in de- \nscribing was, on the morning of the battle, a scene of \nmingled activity, disorder, and consternation. The troops were \noccupied in searching the houses of the suspected, and in de- \nstroying or damaging such stores as they could find. Reserve \ncompanies stood in the principal avenue ready to move on any \npoint, for Smith was too good a soldier to disperse his whole \ncommand. The court-house was set on fire by the soldiers, but \nthey extinguished the flames at the intercession of Mrs. Moul- \nton, an aged woman of over eighty. The garret contained a \nquantity of powder, which would, m exploding, have destroyed\" \nthe houses in the vicinity. Colonel Shattuck's was also a \nhiding-place for public property. The inhabitants, though \n\" sulky,\" certainly behaved with address and self-possession in \nthe emergency in which they found themselves. \n\nAll this time the storm without was gathering head. The \ntroops had entered the town at seven. It was now nearly ten \no'clock. So far the British liad little reason to complain of \ntheir success, but in reality the provincial magazines had met \nwith trifling injury. \n\nA magnetism easily accounted for conducted our footsteps \nalong the half-mile of well-beaten road that leads to the site of \nthe battle-ground, as it is called. A shady avenue, bordered \nwith odoriferous pines and firs, parts from the road at the \nwestward side and leads you in a few rods to the spot. Briefly, \nthis was the old road to Carlisle, which here spanned the river \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 387 \n\nby a simple wooden bridge resting upon piles. The passage of \nthe bridge was secured by Smith's orders, who did not omit to \npossess himself of all the avenues leading into the town. A \ndetachinent under Captain Parsons, of the 10th, crossed the \nbridge and proceeded to the house of Colonel Barrett, a leader \namong the patricits, and custodian of the Colony stores. Cap- \ntain Laurie of the 43d had the honor to command the troops \nleft to protect the bridge. \n\nThe monument is built of Carlisle granite, the corner-stone \nhaving been laid in 1825 in the presence of sixty survivors of \nthe battle, who listened to an eloquent word-painting of their \ndeeds from the lips of Everett. The Bunker Hill Monument \nAssociation aided greatly in advancing its erection. The pil- \ngrim, as in duty bound, reads the inscription on the marble tab- \nlet of the eastern face : — \n\nHere \n\nOn the 19th of April, 1775, \n\nwas made the first foi-cible resistance to \n\nBritish Aggression. \n\nOn the opposite bank stood the American \n\nmilitia, and on this spot the first of the enemy fell \n\nin the War of the Revolution, \n\nwhich gave Independence to these United States. \n\nIn gratitude to God, and in the love of Freedom, \n\nThis monument was erected, \n\nA. D. 1836. \n\nWbat need to amplify the history after this simple conden- \nsation ! We seated ourselves on a boulder invitingly placed at \nthe root of an elm that droops gracefully over the placid \nstream, and which stands close to the old roadway. Beyond, \nwhere you might easily toss a pebble, were the remains of the \nfarther abutment of the old bridge, for the mastery of which \ndeadly strife took place between the yeomen of Middlesex and \nthe trained soldiers from the isles. For our own part we have \nnever fallen upon so deHghtful a nook for scholar's revery or \nlovers' tryst. The beauty, harmony, and peacefulness of the \nlandscape drove the pictures of war, which we came to retouch, \nclean away from our mental vision. Jfot a leaf trembled. The \n\n\n388 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nriver in its almost imperceptible flow glided ou without ripple \nor eddy. The trees, which had become embedded in the mould \naccumulated above the farther embankment, cast their black \nshadows across its quiet surface. A vagrant cow grazed quietly \nat the base of the monument, where the tablet tells us the \nnewly springing sod was fertilized by the life-blood of the first \nslain foeman. \n\n\" By the rude bridge that arched the flood, \nTheir flag to April's breeze unfurled, \nHere once the embattled farmers stood \nAnd fired the shot heard round the world.\" \n\nThe ground upon which the monument stands was given to \nthe town by Dr. Eipley in 1834, for the purpose, and formed \noriginally a part of the parsonage demesne. We cannot choose \nbut challenge the anachronism of the inscription as well as the \nfitness of the site. The first declares that \" here was made the \nfirst forcible resistance to Britisli aggression.\" By substituting \nthe word \" American \" for \" British \" we should adhere to his- \ntoric truth; for, to the eternal honor of those Middlesex farmers, \nthey were the aggressors, Avhile \" here \" stood the enemy. The \nBritish fired the first volley, but the Americans were moving \nupon them with arms in their hands. \n\nAVhen Thomas Hughes, Esq., better Icnown as \"Tom \n\n•Brown,\" was here, he is said to have exclaimed, \"British \n\naggression ! I thought America was a colony of Great Britain, \n\nand that her soldiers had a right to march where they pleased ! \" \n\nThis Xonument, therefore, marks the spot where the British \nsoldiers fought and fell, while the place where the gallant yeo- \nmen gave up their lives is commemorated by a statue. A \nwealthy citizen of Concord bequeathed by his will a sum to be \napplied to the restoration of the old bridge, taken down in \n1793, and for the erection of a monument on the farther shore. \nA committee of intelligent and patriotic gentlemen have fuL- \nfilled the conditions of Mr. Hubbard's legacy, thus permanently \nfixing the positions of the combatants when the collision took \nplace. A spirited figure in bronze, by French, presents to \nus the minute-man of 1775 hastening to the conflict. The \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 389 \n\nartist has succeeded in investing his subject with a good deal \nof martial fire. Eagerness and determination are well ex- \npressed in the attitude of the youthful st)ldier. The rebuild- \ning of the bridge, too, brings the warlike scene all the more \nvividly before us. \n\nA few paces from the monument, beside a stone-wall, are the \ngraves of the two British soldiers who were killed here, their \nplace of sepulture marked by two rough stones. One of these \nhas so nearly disappeared by acts of vandalism as to be scarcely \nvisible above tlie sod. A stone from the North Bridge is \nplaced under the corner of the soldiers' monument in the public \nsquare, thus uniting two historic eras in the town's annals. \n\nAt this place the river, which before flowed easterly, bends \na little to the north. The old road, after passing the stream, \nran parallel with it along the wet ground for some distance be- \nfore ascending the heights beyond. The muster-field of the \nprovincials is now owned by Mr. George Keyes, who has found \nflints such as were then used where the Americans stood in \nbattle-array. Were they dropped there by some wavering spirit \nwho feared to stain his soul vnth. bloodshed, or were they dis- \ncarded by some of sterner cast? — a Hay ward, perhaps, who \ndrew up his gun at the same moment the Briton levelled his \nown, and gave' and received the death-shot. \n\nMr. Keyes has also ploughed up a number of arrow-heads, \naxes, pestles, and other of the rude stone implements of the \norigmal owners of the soil, who kept faith with the white man \nas he had kept faith with them. Hardships fell to the settlers' \nlot, but peace and concord endured, in token of the name \nwhich Peter Bulkley, their first minister, gave the plantation. \n\nThe Old Manse has received immortality through the genius \nof Hawthorne. It was built in 1765, the year of the Stamp \nAct, for Rev. William Emerson, the fighting parson, the same \nwho vehemently opposed retreating from before the British in \n.-rthe morning at Concord; the same who died a chaplain in the \narmy. The same reverend gentleman likewise officiated as \nchaplain to the Provincial Congress when it sat in Concord. \n\nStanding back from the road, a walk bordered by black ash- \n\n\n390 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ntrees, now somewhat in the decHne of life, leads to the front \ndoor. The house looks as if it had never received the coat of \npaint, the prospect of which so alarmed Hawthorne's sensibili- \nties. It is of two stories with gambrel roof and a chimney \npeeping above at either end. The front faces the road, the \nback is towards the river ; one end looks up the street by \nwhich you have come from the town, while the other com- \nmands a view of the old abandoned road to the bridge, — the \nboundary of the demesne in that direction. A considerable \ntract of open land extends upon all sides. \n\nThe Manse is among modern structures what a Gray Friar \nin cowl and cassock might be in an assemblage of fashionably \ndressed individuals. The single dormer window in the garret \nlooks as if it might have made a quaint setting for the head of \nthe old clergyman, with his silver hairs escaping from beneath \nhis nightcap. If he looked forth of a summer's twilight to scan \nthe heavens, fireflies flitted sparlding across the fields, as if \nsome invisible hand had traced an evanescent flash in the air. \nBehind the house, among the rushes of the river meadows, the \nfrogs sang jubilee in every key from the deep diapason of the \npatriarchal croaker to the shrill piping of juvenile amphibian. \nDiscord unsjDeakable followed the shores of the Concord along \nits Avindings even to its confluence with the Assabeth. The din \nof these night-disturbers seemed to us, as we stood on the riv- \ner's bank, like the gibings of many demons let loose to murder \nsleep. And one fellow — doubt it if you will, reader — actu- \nally brayed with the lungs of a donkey. \n\n\" As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's somid, \nErects his mane and neiglis and paws the ground. \" \n\nWalking around to the rear of the Manse, we see a section \nof the roof continued down into a leanto, — a thing so unusual \nthat we make a note thereon, the gambrel being the successor of \nthe leanto in our architecture. The back entrance is com];)letely \nembowered in syringas, whose beautiful waxen flowers form a \nstriking contrast with the gray walls. Vines climb and cling \nto the house as if inefl\"ectually seeking an entrance, imparting \n\n\nivMiMj \n\n\nTHE KETREAT FROM CONCORD. 391 \n\nto it a picturesqiieness answerable to and harmonizing with \nthe general effect of the mansion. We give a glance at the \ngarden where Hawthorne grew his summer squashes, of which \nhe talks so poetically. What, Hawthorne delving among pota- \ntoes, cabbages, and squashes ! We can scarce bend our imagina- \ntion to meet such an exigency. It is only a little way down to \nthe river where he moored liis boat, in which he floated and \ndreamed with Ellery Channing. \n\nWe enter the house. A hall diAddes it in the middle, giving \ncomfortable apartments at either hand. Some mementos of \nthe old residents serve to carry us back to their day and gener- \nation. A portrait of the Eev. Dr. Eipley, the successor of Mr. \nEmerson, and inhabitant of the house many years, hangs upon \nthe wall. His descendants long possessed the Manse. On llie \nmantel I noticed an invitation to General Washington's table, \naddressed, perhaps, to Dr. Emerson. The ink is faded and \nthe grammar might be improved; but the dinner, we doubt \nnot, was none the less unexceptionable. \n\nHawthorne's study was in an upper room, but let none but \nhimself describe it. \n\n\" There was in the rear of the house the most delightful little \nnook of a study that ever afforded its suvig seclusion to the scholar. \nIt was here that Emerson wrote ' Nature ' ; for he was then an in- \nhabitant of the Manse. \n\n\" There was the sweet and lovely head of one of Raphael's Madon- \nnas and two pleasant little pictures of the Lake of Como. The only \nother decorations were a vase of flowers, always fresh, and a bronze \none containing ferns. My books (few, and by no means choice ; for \nthey were chiefly such waifs as chance had thrown in ray way) stood \nin order about the room, seldom to be disturbed. \n\n\"The study had three windows, set with little old-fashioned panes \nof glass, each -with a crack across it. The two on the western side \nlooked, or rather peeped, between the willow branches down into \nthe orchard, -with glimpses of the river through the trees. The third, \nfacing northward, commanded a broader view of the river, at a spot \nw^here its hitherto obscure Avaters gleam forth into the light of his- \ntory. It Avas at this Avindow that the clergyman Avho then dwelt in \nthe Manse stood watching the outbreak of a long and deadly struggle \n\n\n392 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nbetween two nations : he saw the irregular array of his parishioners \non the farther side of the river and the glittering line of the British \non the hither bank. He awaited in an agony of suspense the rattle \nof the musketry. It came ; and there needed but a gentle wind to \nsweep the hattle smoke around this quiet house.\" \n\nIn 1843 Hawthorne — whom many here name ffaw-thorne \nas they would say \" Haw-hwck \" to their oxen — came to dwell \nat the Manse. The place would not have suited him now. The \nrailway coming from Lexington passes at no great distance, and \nthe scream of the steam-whistle would have rudely interrupted \nhis meditative fancies. He lived here the life of a recluse, re- \nceiving the visits of only a feAV chosen friends, such as Whit- \ntier, Lowell, Emerson, Channing, Thoreau, and perhaps a few \nothers. Here he passed the first years of his married life, and \nhere his first child was born. The townspeople knew him only \nby sight as a reserved, absorbed, and thoughtful man. \n\nThe house opposite the Manse, now the residence of Mr. J. \nS. Keyes, is another witness of the events of that April day. \nThe then resident was named Jones, who, from being a spec- \ntator of the scenes at the bridge, maddened at the sight, wished \nto fire upon the redcoats. It is said that he levelled his gun \nfrom the window, but his wife, more prudent, prevented him \nfrom pulling the trigger. He at last stationed himself at the \nopen door of the shed as the regulars passed by, when he was \nfired at, and with evil intent, as you may see by the bullet- \nhole near the door. Farther our informant did not proceed ; \nbut in the angry swarm that clung to and stung ■ the Britons' \ncolumn all that day, we doubt not Jones at last emptied the \ncontents of his musket. \n\nIn Mr. Keyes's house we saw a marble mantel beautifully \nsculptured in relief. It is a relic from the old Chamber of \nEepresentatives at Washington. On the fender the feet of \nAdams, Clay, Webster, Calhoun, and the master spirits of that \nold hall have often rested. Before the emblematic fasces the \ngreat Carolinian brooded how to loose the bands. The cau- \ncuses, bickerings, and party tactics that fireplace could tell of \nwould make a curious volume. Ascending the hill behind the \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 393 \n\nhouse you have a ravishing landscape, with blue Wachusett \nlooming in the distance. \n\nThe Concord deserves to be known in all time as the Rubicon \nof our history. The atfair at Lexington was but a butchery : \nhere the Americans gave shot for shot and hfe for life. Tlieir \nblood on fire with the rage of battle and the fall of their \nfriends, it is most unaccountable that the patriots allowed Par- \nsons and his command to repass the bridge unmolested. These \nlast must have stepped over the dead bodies of their com- \nrades stretched in their path, gathering evil augury from the \nsight. \n\nThis ended the advance, and here begins the retreat, which \nwe should say is one of the most extraordinary in the annals \nof war, for the pertinacity of the pursuit by an armed rabble \nand for the complete demoralization of eight hundred disci- \nplined soldiers, led by officers of experience. The old song \nmakes the British grenadier recite in. drawling recitative : — \n\n\" For iifteen miles they followed .ami pelted lis, we scarce had time to draw a \ntrigger ; \nBut did you ever know a retreat conducted with more vigour ? \nFor we did it in two hours, wliich saved us from perdition ; \n'T was not in going out but in returning, consisted our expedition. \" \n\nThe British detachment from the North Bridge buried one \nof their slain at the point of tlie hill as they turned into the \nsquare, where the house of Mr. Keyes formerly stood. The \nwounded were carried into Dr. Minott's. All being at length \ncollected, the troops begin their march, — the main body by \nthe road, a strong flanking column by the burying-ground hill. \nThis hill terminates at the distance of a mile from the centre of \nthe town at Meriam's Corner. The flankincr column had to \ndescend the hill at this point, where the road passes the low \nmeadow by a causeway until it reaches the hill beyond. JM^ear \nthe corner was a little bridge thrown over a brook, which the \nroad crossed. \n\nMeriam's house and barn are still seen in the angle where \nthe Bedford road unites with that coming from Lexington. \nFrom behind these buildings gallant John Brooks with his \n17* \n\n\n9 \n\n\n94 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nEeading company arrived in time to pour a volley among the \nenemy as they w^ere passing the bridge. Brooks, a captain in \nBridge's regiment, had received his colonel's permission to push \non vi^hile the regiment halted for refreshment. Loammi Bald- \nwin came up with the Woburn men, Avho drifted in a cloud \nalong the British flank. The men of Sudbury, of Lincoln, and \neven Parkers's from Lexington, joined in the race, for race it \nwas beginning to be. The fields grew armed men, and the \nhighway was fringed with fire-arms. \n\nThe six miles from Concord back to Lexington were per- \nfectly adapted to the guerilla-fighting of the Americans. They \nabounded in defiles and places for ambush. On the other hand, \nthe retreating enemy was somewhat covered by the stone-walls \nas long as the flank guards could keep them clear of foemen ; \nbut the column was fired at in front, in rear, and on all sides \nat once. Eanks, platoons, and the semblance of military order \nwere soon lost. We need no ghost to tell us what such a retreat \nmust have been. The dust trampled into stifling clouds, and en- \nveloping everything ; the burning thirst which men brave death \nto assuage ; no time to halt ; tongues parched and cleaving to the \nroof of the mouth ; haggard faces, and red, bloodshot eyes ; the \nproud array and martial bearing all gone ; burnished arms and \nuniforms stained with powder and dirt ; one by one a comrade \ndropping with a bullet in his heart, or another falling out, ex- \nhausted, to await his fate in dogged despair, — this is what it \nmeant to retreat fighting from Concord to Lexington. The col- \numn, like some bleeding reptile, scotched but not killed, dragged \nits weary length along. Stedman, the British historian, says \nthe regulars were driven like sheep. Harassed, humiliated, and \ndespairing, the men became fiends, divested of every semblance \nof humanity. Every shot that whistled through the broken \nbattalion proclaimed aloud, \" The Province is dead ! Long live \nthe Eepublic ! \" \n\nThat same prowling ensign, Berniere, tells his own tale : — \n\n\" At last, after we got through Lexington, the officers got to the \nfront and presented their bayonets and told the men if they advanced \nthey should die. Upon this they began to form under a very heavy \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 395, \n\nfii:e ; but at this instant the first brigade joined us, consisting of the \n4th, 23d, and 47th regiments, and two divisions of marines, under \nthe . command of Brigadier-General Lord Percy ; he brought two \nfield-pieces with him, which were immediately brought to bear upon \nthe rebels, and soon silenced their fire. After a little fixing the \nwhole halted for about half an hour to rest.\" \n\nPercy opened his ranks and received the fugitives within, \nhis squares. His cannon, a new element for the militia to \ndeal with, were unlimbered and began to play on the hunt- \ners. Smith's men threw themselves upon the ground, \" with \ntheir tongues hanging out of their mouths, hke those of \ndogs after a chase.\" Certainly, my lord was near being too \nlate. \n\nThis was the first appearance of the Royal Artillery in the \nwar. The 4th battalion was in Boston under command of \nColonel Cleaveland, who also served on the staff of the army as \nbrigadier, as did most of the colonels of the line regiments. In \nrelation to the report sent to England that the pieces were not \nwell provided with ammunition. Colonel Cleaveland stated that \nLord Percy refused to take an ammunition-wagon, which was \non the parade, fearing it might retard the march, and did not \nimagine there could be occasion for more than was in the side \nboxes. A more serious complaint Avas preferred against Cleave- \nland at Bunker Hill, where, according to Stedman, he sent \nballs too large for the guns, wliich rendered the artillery use- \nless until the error could be rectified. Allusion is also made \nto this occurrence in a letter in the British Detail and Conduct \nof the War, in which it is said, \" The wretched blunder of the \nover-sized balls sprung from the dotage of an officer of rank in \nthat corps, who spends his whole time in dallying with the \nschoolmaster's daughters.\" This language is attributed to Sir \nWiUiam Howe, and the Misses Lovell are referred to. Colonel \nCleaveland, however, says he sent sixty rounds with each of \nthe twelve guns that accompanied the troops, but that not more \nthan half were fired. The name of a brother of the \" school- \nmaster's daughters \" has been mixed up with this accident, \nwhich is also referred to in the song : — \n\n\n396 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\" Our conductor he got broke \nFor his misconduct, sure, sir ; \nThe shot he sent for twelve-pound guns \nWere made for tweutj'-four, sir. \" \n\nThe companies of the Eoyal Artillery were numbered, and \nwore in full dress a laced hat with black feather, hair clubbed \nand powdered, white stock, white breeches and stockings. \nThey were armed with a carbine and bayonet. The Conti- \nnental artillery were formed upon the same model. \n\nThe place where Percy met the fugitives is about half a mile \nbelow Lexington Common. One of his cannon was placed \nupon a little eminence near the present site of the Town Hall. \nThis elevation has since been levelled. The other gun was \nposted on the hill above the old Munroe Tavern, and back of \nthe residence of the late Deacon Mulliken. These pieces com- \nmanded the road for a considerable distance in front, and one \nof them sent a shot through the old meeting-house. \n\nThe old inn of William Munroe, which was used as a hos- \npital for the British wounded during their halt in its vicinity, \nyet stands, somewhat altered in appearance, but still the same \nbuilding as in 1775. It presents its end to the high-road, and \nfaces you as you pass up towards Lexington Common. The \nplace is still owned by the Munroe family, the house being at \npresent occupied by William Munroe. A short distance be- \nyond, the road from Woburn unites with that in which we are \njourneying, which was the old post-road to No. Four, Crown \nPoint, and the New Hampshire Grants. \n\nGage had received the express, and at nine o'clock despatched \nthe Earl with something less than a thousand men and two \nfield-pieces. The noble Northumbrian marched out over Boston \nNeck with the Ptoyal Welsh, King's Own, 47th, and his cannon \nat his heels, to the tune of Yankee Doodle. We feel that al- \nlowance must be made for Gordon's statement that a smart boy \nattracted his Lordship's attention by recalling Chevy Chase to \nhim, — a circumstance at which his Lordship seemed much \naffected ; but as we now know no other means of ascertaining \nthe truth than by a resort to supernatural agencies, — to which, \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 397 \n\nhowever, it is possible the noble Earl's ethereal part might fail \nto respond, — we wiUingly refer the subject to the reader as a \ntough historical morsel. \n\nYankee Doodle, from whatever cause, ceased to be popular \nwith the English after this day. On the return from Lexing- \nton one Briton asked a brother officer \" how he liked the tune \nnow.\" \" Damn them ! \" was the reply, \" they made us dance \nit tm we were tired.\" Yankee Doodle was beat along the \nAmerican line at the surrender of Burgoyne. \n\nAt eight o'clock on the morning of the 19th the people of \nBoston first knew that a collision between the troops and \npeople had occurred, though an express had arrived at the Gen- \neral's quarters at an earher hour. The anxiety to know the \ncircumstances was extreme, especially when Percy's brigade was \nseen under arms. Word was immediately sent to Watertown \nby a sure hand, and at ten o'clock Trial Bissell mounted his \nhorse, carrying the first intelligence of the events thus far, — \nnamely, the slaughter at Lexington and the momentarily ex- \npected arrival of the first brigade. He took the great southern \nhighway. The town committees on the route made copies of \nhis despatch and gave him fresh horses. Worcester, Hartford, \nITew Haven, were in turn reached and electrified. At the time \nthe express rider left Watertown the idea of preventing the \njunction of Smith with Percy was circulating, but no combina- \ntion to that end could be effected. \n\nAt noon Gage gave out to the inhabitants of Boston, by \nhis aide-de-camp, that no one had been Idlled. He had not, \nit is said, been informed of the massacre on Lexington Com- \nmon until late in the afternoon. Eumors then flew thickly, \nraising the excitement within the town to the highest pitch. \nPercy and Haldimand were both reported killed. But. the \nreader knows by what exaggerated accounts the news of battle \nis usually heralded. \n\nPercy's force was doubtless considered equal to every emer- \ngency. His own and Colonel Smith's commands comprised \nabout half Gage's available strength, and mcluded the flower \nof the army. The relieving troops passed on unassailed through \n\n\n398 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nEoxbury, Brookline, Little Cambridge, now Brighton, to Charles \nEiver. At this point they found the \" leaves \" of the bridge \nhad been removed, but, the rest of the structure being unin- \njured, they were soon found, replaced, and Percy, after being \nsome time delayed, proceeded. The season was unusually early. \nThe barley was waving in the fields, the pastures were green, \nand the men plucked branches from the cherry-trees, on which \nthe buds were bursting into bloom. It was a warm and dry \nday, and the men suffered with the heat. An officer in the de- \ntachment observing, as they marched along, that the windows \nof the houses were all shut, remarked to his commander, that, \nin his opinion, they would meet but little opposition. \" So \nmuch the worse,\" Lord Percy replied, \" for we shall be fired on \nfrom those very houses.\" \n\nPercy, having allowed breathing time to the troops, threw \nout his flankers, faced about, and commenced his retrograde \nmarch. Captain Harris, — the same mentioned in a previous \nchapter as Lord Harris, — senior captain of the 5th, Percy's \no\\\\Ti regiment, was ordered to cover the retreat. It was now \nabout half past two in the afternoon. \n\nThe Americans were joined in the upper part of Arlington \nby Dr. Warren and General Heath, who were the master-spir- \nits in condu.cting the attack from this point. The Earl adopted \na savage expedient for clearing his way. Parties fell off from \nthe front, entered the houses by the road, first plundered, and \nthen set them on fire. For two miles, after descending into \nthe plain of Arlington, it was a continued scene of arson, pil- \nlage, and slaughter. The militia having assembled from the \nmore populous towns near Boston, their numbers were greatly \naugmented, and the conflict here merged into the proportions \nof a battle. Led by Warren, and maddened by the sight of \nthe burning dwellings, the fleeing women and children, and \nthe stark bodies of aged men lying dead by their own hearth- \nstones, the patriots fell upon the British rear with fury. Har- \nris was so hard pressed that half his company, with his lieuten- \nant. Baker, were either killed or wounded. When accosted by \nPercy, the captain, with his grenadier-cap filled with water for \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 399 \n\nthe relief of the wounded, offered some of the precious beverage \nto the Earl, but his Lordship gratefully declined it. Warren \nhad the pin struck from the hair of his earlock by a bullet at \nthis time. A British officer had his bayonet-scabbard shot \nfrom his side, and Percy came near realizing his sombre appre- \nliensions, a musket-ball carrying away a button from his waist- \ncoat. The cannon ammunition being expended, the pieces \nbecame a useless encumbrance. Smith is wounded, and Bernard \nof the Welsh has received a hurt. Chevy Chase, indeed ! \n\nEliphalet Downer's Duel. \n\nDr. Eliphalet Downer left his house in Punch-Bowl Village, \nin Brookline, early in the morning, first directing his wife and \nchildren to a place of safety. He then repaired to the front. \n\nComing in sight of the main body of the enemy advancing \nin their retreat, he suddenly encountered one of their flankers, \nwho had stopped to pillage a house. At the same moment the \nsoldier descried Downer, who instantly put himself in the duel- \nlist's posture of defence, presenting his side to his foe. Both \nlevelled their guns, and both missed. The antagonists then \nclosed in deadly struggle. They crossed bayonets, each hoping \nby superior strength or skill to obtain the advantage. For the \nlittle time they looked into each other's eyes, gleaming with fero- \ncity, and read there the bitter resolve to destroy, each knew the \nsupreme moment had come. They lunged, parried, locked bay- \nonets, and with every muscle strained to its utmost tension \nstrove for each other's life. Downer soon found he was no \nmatch for his adversary in dexterous use of the bayonet. He \ncould only protract the contest, while all the time the main \nbody was coming nearer. Gathering himself together for a \ndesperate effort. Downer, \"with incredible quickness, reversed \nhis firelock and dealt the Briton a terrific stroke with the butt \nwhich brought him to the ground. The blow shattered the \nbreech of his gun, that had served him so good a turn. His \nblood was up, he had fought for life, his enemy was only dis- \nabled, and he finished him with eight inches of cold steel ; \n\n\n400 HISTOiUC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nthen, possessing himself of the soldier's arms as the spoil of \nvictory, he hastily retreated to a safer position. When the \nbattle was over, he found his forehead had been grazed by a \nmusket-ball. General Heath, in noticing this combat, calls Dr. \nDowner \" an active, enterprising man \" ! \n\nA little about the bellicose doctor's subsequent career. He \nimmediately joined the army as surgeon. His regiment having \ndisbanded at the conclusion of the siege of Boston, he entered \non board the privateer sloop Yankee, Captain Johnson, in a \nsimilar capacity. The sloop mounted nine guns, four on a side. \nIn her first cruise in July, 1776, she fell in with two ships, the \nCreighton and Zachara, heavily laden with rum and sugar. \nThese she took. Our surgeon, compelled to remain below, as- \nsisted in working the odd gun in the cabin. \n\nCaptain Johnson having sent a number of his men away \nwith the prizes, the prisoners took advantage of the lenity with \nwhich they were treated, rose and possessed themselves of the \nsloop. Their captors, now prisoners, were taken to England, \nwhere they were treated with great rigor. Downer found \nfriends, who obtained his removal from prison into a public \nhospital as an assistant, and in the course of a year made his \nescape to France. Not finding an immediate opportunity of \nreturning to America, he entered on board the Alliance, then \nfitting out at a French port for a cruise in the Channel. She \nhad the good fortune to capture eighteen prizes. \n\nThe Doctor then took ship for home, but on the passage had \nthe ill-luck to again become a prisoner. The vessel in which \nhe was fought for seven hours and a half, had both her masts \nshot away, and fired her last round before she surrendered. \nDowner was severely wounded in the action by a gi-ape-shot. \nHe, with his fellow-prisoners, becames inmates of Portsea Prison, \nnear Portsmouth, where, to use the Doctor's own language, they \nwere worse treated than if they had fallen into the power of \nsavages. \n\nThe prisoners contrived to dig a hole under ground for a dis- \ntance of forty feet, their object being to pass under the prison- \nwaU and into the street. This was eftected with no other tool \n\n\nTHE EETREAT FROM CONCORD. 401 \n\nthan a jack-knife, and a sack to carry away the earth, which was \ndeposited in an old chimney and beneath the floor. Only one \nperson at a time could work at the excavation, which had to be \nprosecuted at certain hours of the day, as the noise at night \nwould have discovered them to the sentinel who paced directly \nabove the workman's head. Once they were betrayed, but, the \ngallery being at length completed, they cast lots for precedence \nin the order of escape. The Doctor was rather corpulent, and \nwhen his turn came he stuck fast in the passage, completely \nblocking the way until it could be enlarged by the removal of \nmore earth. Owing to the badness of the roads in that chalky \ncountry, made worse by rains, many of the fugitives were recap- \ntured and consigned to the black-hole. The Doctor's friends \n\n— for Americans had friends even then in the heart of England \n\n— concealed him till an opportunity off\"ered for him to cross \nover to France, from whence he made his way to Boston after \nan absence of three years. Dr. Do'mier afterwards served as \nsurgeon-general of the Penobscot expedition, that most melan- \ncholy of failures. He was the grandfather of Samuel Downer \nof Boston. \n\nAs you go towards Lexington, at your left hand, nearly op- \nposite the Baptist Church, was an old house rejuvenated with \nwhite paint and bright with green blinds. Still, beneath this \ndisguise, and in spite of the modern additions grafted on the \nparent structure, you would have known it for a veteran by \nits monstrous chimney and simple outlines. The house stood \na little back from the street, with the end towards it, and was \nthe dwelling of Mr. Russell Teel. \n\nWe found in this house the mother of Mr. Teel, a sprightly, \nintelligent lady of eighty-one. She willingly related the tra- \ngedy that happened here on the 19th of April, 1775. \n\nAfter the regulars had passed up to Lexington, a number of \nminute-men from the eastward, who had collected here, thought \na good opportunity would occur to harass them on their return. \nTo this end they made a small breastwork of casks, shingles, \nand such movables as they could readily obtain near the pres- \nent gate and next the road. From behind this cover the pa- \n\n\n402 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ntriots fired on Percy's van, but they had not taken into account \nthe flank-guards moving across the fields parallel with the main \nbody. Hemmed in between these two columns, the minute- \nmen sought shelter within the dwelling. \n\n\" My grandfather, Jason Eussell, then lived in this house,\" \ncontinued Mrs. Teel. \" He had conducted his wife and chil- \ndren to the high hill back of the house, and was returning, \nwhen he was discovered and pursued, with the others, into the \nhouse. He was first shot and then bayoneted. The bloody \nstains remained until quite recently upon the floor, where he \nwith ten others perished while in vain entreating mercy. Sev- \neral Americans of this ill-fated band, which belonged to Lynn, \nDanvers, and Beverly, retreated into the cellar, and as they \nwere well armed the British durst not follow them, but dis- \ncharged several volleys into the entrance.\" Upon opening the \ndoor leading to the cellar, a dozen bidlet-holes were plainly \nvisible in the heavy cross-timbers. Jason Eussell was an in- \nvalid, and it is thought imprudently returned to his dwelling to \nsave some articles of value. \n\nEussell's old store, wdiich is seen with a modern addition not \nfar above the railway-station and on the same side of the main \nstreet, was entered by the regulars, who, after helping them- \nselves to the liquors which they found there, left all the spigots \nturned so as to waste what remained. Eight in front of this \nstore a soldier was mortally wounded, and in his agony begged \nhis comrades to finish him. \n\nOpposite the Unitarian Church, the successor of the several \nhouses of the First Parish, is the scene of the following inci- \ndents. Two wagons had been despatched from Boston in the \nroute of Percy's brigade, but at some distance in his rear. One \ncontained ammunition, the want of which he had so miscalcu- \nlated on setting out, the other was loaded with provisions. A \nguard of seventeen men and an officer accompanied the convoy. \nInformation reached Menotomy that these supplies were com- \ning, and their capture was at once resolved upon. The young \nmen were all in the main action then going on in Lexington, \nand this afiair was managed by some of the elders, led, say \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 403 \n\nthe town traditions, by David Lamson, a half-breed, though \nGordon claims this honor for Rev. Dr. Payson, of Chelsea. \n\nA low stone-wall then extended in front of the former resi- \ndence of George Russell. The ground here falls off sharply \ntowards the railway, forming a hollow in which was kept an \nold cider-mill. Behind this wall the patriots posted themselves, \nand when the train arrived opposite their ambuscade they rose \nto their feet, levelled their guns, and called out for the officer \nto surrender. For answer the drivers lashed' their horses, upon \nwhich Lamson's party fired a voUey, killing and wounding at \nleast four of the escort, besides disabling several of the horses. \nThe officer soon found himself alone and was made prisoner. \nSeveral of the guard ran to the pond, into which they threw \ntheir guns ; then, continuing their flight for half a mile along \nits westerly shore, they came to a little valley where they en- \ncountered an old woman digging dandelions, to whom they \ngave themselves up. The wagons became the prize of the \nAmericans. \n\nWe frankly admit the doubts which assailed us at first in \nregard to this old woman digging dandelions. On a day so un- \nfavorable, with Percy's guns rumbling in the distance, the mus- \nketry sputtering spitefuUy at intervals, the spectacle of Mother \nBatherick calmly digging early greens awoke in our mind a \nscepticism such as not unfrequently attends the announcement \nof natural phenomena. The relation being authenticated by \npersons of high credibility, we are no longer surprised that a \nsquad of his Majesty's grenadiers gave themselves up to such \nan Amazon. And yet this woman lived and died in poverty. \nHer figure was tall and commanding, her eye piercing. She \nled her captives to a neighbor's house, and there delivered them \nup T\\ath the injunction to tell the story of their capture to their \nking. The home of John T. Trowbridge, the author, is the \narena of Mother Batherick's exploit. . \n\nThe old house which stood opposite the railway-station, on \nthe spot since occupied by the residence of the late Mr. Pierce, \nwas that of Deacon Adams, a leading man in the village. Tlie \ndwelling was riddled with bullets, and a big elm standing near \n\n\n404 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nwas spattered, with lead, which the youth of West Cambridge \nwere fond of cutting out and displaying as souvenirs. When \nthe old house was pulled down, and the tree, rotten with age, \nwas laid low, many of the leaden mementos were secured. \n\nAnother family of this name, so hateful to the British, lived \nhigher up the road. Mrs. Adams was sick in bed, with a new- \nborn infant at her side. The regulars forced open the doors, \nand, bursting into the room in which she was lying, one of the \nbrutes levelled his bayonet at her breast. The poor woman, in \nan agony of fear, cried out, \" For the Lord's sake do not kill \nme ! \" \" Damn you ! \" ejaculated the brute. Another, more hu- \nmane, interposed, and said, \" We will not hurt the woman if she \nwill go out of the house, but we will surely burn it.\" Strength- \nened by terror, Mrs. Adams arose, and tlirowing a blanket about \nher person crawled to the corn-house with her infant in her \narms. Her other httle children, concealed by the curtains, re- \nmained unsuspected under the bed which she had just left. The \nsoldiers then made a pile of chairs, tables, books, clothing, etc., \nto which, after helping themselves to as much plunder as they \ncould carry, they set fire. The flames, however, were extin- \nguished at the instant the troops had passed by. A relative of \nthe family, from whom the writer received this narration, has a \nsmall Bible which the soldiers had used to kindle the fire at \nDeacon Adams's. It was much scorched, and although she did \nnot say so much, we could easily see that the owner attributed \nthe preservation of the house to the sacred volume. \n\nAt Cooper's whig tavern, now the site of the Arlington \nHouse, the king's troops committed similar atrocities. Two \nunresisting old men, non-combatants, were . killed, their skulls \ncrushed and their brains scattered about. More than a hundred \nshots were fired into the house. Farther on was the tory tav- \nern, to which the British officers were accustomed to resort. \nAt that time four houses stood near together between the Cam- \nbridge line and the railway-station in Arlington, all owned by \nfamilies of the name of Winship. The couplet runs, — \n\n\"Jed' and Jeth', Jason and Jo' \nAll lived in Menotomy Row.\" \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 405 \n\nOnly a single shot was inadvertently fired into the tavern \nwhich stood near the position of Mr. Abbott Allen's house. \nWinship kept here in 1772, and Lem. Blanchard later. \n\nIn the same strain the relation might be continued, but \nenough has been said to show that the severest fighting and \nmost afflicting scenes took place in old Menotomy. Mrs. Win- \nthrop, who passed over the ground shortly after the battle, \nsays : — \n\n\" But what added greatly to the horrors of the scene was our pass- \ning through the bloody field at Menotomy, which was strewed with \nthe mangled bodies. We met one affectionate father with a cart, \nlooking for his murdered son, and picking up his neighbors who had \nfallen in battle, in order for their burial.\" \n\nIt is probable that Percy intended to return as he came, but \nby this time he learned that Brighton Bridge had been effectu- \nally disabled. Had this not been done, the villages of Old \nCambridge, Brookline, and Roxbury would have each renewed \nthe scenes of Menotomy. To have forced his way for eight \nmiles farther might have been difficult, if not impossible, for \nPercy. Fortune, therefore, conducted the head of his column \nback through Charlestown by the way around Prospect Hill. \nAt the old tavern in North Cambridge the officers may have \nhastily swallowed a mouthful of spirits. At six o'clock the \nBritish vanguard began to file across Charlestown Neck, and \nranged themselves in battle line on the heights of Bunker Hill, \nwhere they remained until the next day. They were then re- \nlieved by the marines and the third brigade. \n\n\" Says our General we were forced to take to our arms in our own defence ; \n(For arms read legs, and it will be both truth and sense. ) \nLord Percy (says he) I must say something of him in civility, \nAnd that is I never can enough praise him for his great agility.\" \n\nWe annex the whole account of this battle as it appeared in \nDraper's Boston Gazette of April 20, 1775, Avhich is, we think, \nworthy of being numbered among the literary curiosities of its \nday: — \n\nBattle of Lexington. \n\n\" Last Tuesday Night the Grenadier and Light Companies belong- \ning to the several Eegiments in this Town were ferried in Long \n\n\n406 HISTOEIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nboats from the Bottom of the Common over to Phip's Farm in Cam- \nbridge, from whence they proceeded on their way to Concord where \nthey arrived early yesterday. The fii'st Brigade commanded by \nLord Piercy with two pieces of Artillery set oS from here Yesterday \nMorning at Ten o'clock as a Re-inforcement, which with the Grena- \ndiers and Light Companies made about Eighteen Hundred men. \nUpon the people's having notice of this Movement on Tuesday night \nalarm guns were fired through the country and Expresses sent off \nto the different Towns so that very early yesterday morning large \nnumbers were assembled from all parts of the Country. A general \nBattle ensued which from what we can learn, was supported with \ngreat Spirit upon both Sides and continued until the King's Troops \nretreated to Charlestown, which was after sunset. Numbers are \nkilled and wounded on both sides. The reports concerning this \nunhappy Affair and the Causes that concurred to bring on an En- \ngagement are so various that we are not able to collect anything \nconsistent or regular and cannot therefore with certainty give our \nreaders any further Account of this shocking Introduction to all \nthe Miseries of Civil War.\" \n\nThe American accounts appeared in the form of hand-bills. \nOne, printed in Boston, is embellished with a death's-head, and \ncontains a list of the American killed and wounded. Another \nhas at its head twenty coffins, bearing each the name of one \nof the slain. It is entitled, \n\n\"BLOODY BUTCHERY \n\nBY THE \n\nBRITISH TROOPS \n\nOB THE \n\nRUNAWAY FIGHT OF THE REGULARS.\" \n\n\" Being the PARTICULARS of the VICTORIOUS BATTLE fought at \nand near CONCORD, situated Twenty Miles from Boston, in the Province of \nthe Massachiisetts Bay, between Two Thousand Regular Troops, helonging to \nHis Britanic Majesty, and a few Hundred Provincial Troops, belonging to the \nProvince of Massachusetts- Bay, which lasted from sunrise until sunset, on the \n19th of April, 1775, when it was decided greatly in favor of the latter. These \nparticulars are published in this cheap form at the request of the friends of the \ndeceased WORTHIES who died gloriously fighting in the Cause of Liberty \nand their Country and it is their sincere desire that every Householder in \nHie Country, who are sincere well-wishers to America may be possessed of the \nsame either to frame and glass, or otherwise to preserve in their houses, not \nonly as a Token of Gratitude to the memory of the Deceased Forty Persons \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 407 \n\nbut as a perpetual memorial of that important event on which perhaps, may \ndepend the future Freedom and Greatness of the Commonwealth of America. \nTo which is annexed a Funeral Elegy on those who were slain in the Battle.\" \n\nIn the burying-ground at Arlington we found a plain shaft \nof granite, nineteen feet high, standing over the remains of the \nfallen. The monument is protected by a neat iron fence, and \nhas a tablet \"wath this inscription : — \n\n\" Erected by the \n\nInhabitants of West Cambridge \n\nA. D. 1848, \n\nOver the common grave of \n\nJason Russell, Jason Winship, \n\nJabez Wyman and nine others \n\nWho were slain in this Town by the \n\nBritish Troops, \n\non their retreat from the battles of \n\nLexington and Concord, \n\nApril 19th 1775. \n\nBeing among the first to lay down \n\ntheir lives in the struggle for \n\nAmerican Independence.\" \n\nA plain slate gravestone at the foot of the obelisk has the \nfollowing : — \n\n\" M' Jason Russell was \nbarbarously murdered in his own \nHouse by Gage's bloody Troops \non y 19th of April 1775 ^Etat 59 \nHis body is quietly resting \nin this grave with Eleven \nof our friends, who in like \nmanner, with many others were \ncruelly slain on that fatal day. \nBlessed are y« dead who die in y' \n\nLord.\" \n\nThe memorial was erected by the voluntary contributions of \nthe citizens of West Cambridge ; the remains beneath the old \nslab being disinterred and placed within the vault under the \nmonument, April 22, 1848. Nine of the twelve victims are \nunknown. \n\n\n408 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nAt Acton, on the 19th of April, 1851, a monument was dedi- \ncated to the gallant spirits belonging to that town who fell on \nthe day of Lexington and Concord. The tablet bears the names \nof Captain Isaac Davis and of privates Abner Hosmer and \nJames Hayward, provincial minute-men. \n\nIt was Davis's company which marched in the van to force \nthe passage of the N\"orth Bridge. A halt and parley had \noccurred among the provincial soldiers. None, apparently, \nwere desirous of occupying the post of honor and of facing the \nBritish muzzles. Davis, resolute, and ashamed of this ignoble \nconduct before the enemy, exclaimed, \" I have n't a man that is \nafraid to go \" ; immediately suiting the action to the word by \nmarshalling his men in the front. He appeared depressed, and \nhad rebuked the gayety of some of his comrades who break- \nfasted with him on that, to him, fateful morning. \n\n\" 'T is the sunset of life gives us mystical lore. \nAnd coming events cast their shadows before.\" \n\nDavis was a tall, athletic man, famed for courage and cool- \nness. He was a gunsmith, and an excellent marksman. At the \nfirst voUey he was shot through the heart. He leaped convul- \nsively in the air, and fell, still grasping his musket, over the \ncauseway on the low ground. Hosmer was killed by the same \nfire. Hayward's more tragic death we have briefly alluded to. \nHe was killed, during the pursuit, at the red house on the right \nas you descend Fiske's Hill, in Lexington, going towards Bos- \nton. His adversary's ball perforated his powder-horn, which is \nstill preserved ; but before he fired his last shot he had nearly \nexpended the forty bullets with which he had set out. \n\nThe remains of these brave men were exhumed from the \nburial-ground, where they had lain for seventy odd years, and \nplaced in the tomb at the base of the monument. The graves \nwere then filled up, — the gravestones being left standing to \ntell the future visitor where they had first been interred. The \nbones were found remarkably well preserved. The orifice in \nHosmer's skull through which the ball passed while he was in \nthe act of taking aim was still distinctly visible. These relics \n\n\nTHE RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 409 \n\nwere carefully placed in a coffin of three compartments aud laid \naway beneath the monument, while the booming of cannon \nsounded a soldier's requiem. \n\nTwo mementos of the battles of Lexington and Concord \nmay be seen in the Massachusetts Senate Chamber ; one is a \nTower musket captured from a soldier of the 43d, the other \nthe gun used by Captain John Parker on that day. These \nweapons were a legacy to the State from Theodore Parker, and \nwere received by both branches of the Legislature assembled in \njoint convention. Governor Andrew made the address of pres- \nentation, during the delivery of which he exhibited much emo- \ntion, and as he concluded he pressed the barrel of the Eevo- \nlutionary firearm to his lips \" with effusion.\" This occuiTed in \n1861, when the opening events of the Eebellion presented a \ncertain analogy in the Governor's mind to the teachings of 1776. \nMany applauded, while not a few were disposed to ridicule his \npatriotic fervor. \n\nAn internecine war has raged ever since the event of 1775 \nbetween Lexington and Concord, as to which town might claim \nthe greater honor of the day. As if there were not enough and \nto spare for both ! To Lexington belongs the glory of having \nassembled the first force to oppose the march of the king's \ntroops, and of the first bloody sacrifice to liberty. At Concord \nthe Americans first attacked the troops, and with numbers \nwhich rendered such a measure justifiable. Concord, too, was \nthe object of the British expedition. The conflict raged during \nthe day within the limits of six towns, each of which might \nfairly claim a portion of the credit due the whole. The his- \ntorian will, however, treat the occurrences of the 19th of April \nas a single event, leaving to local chroniclers the care of sepa- \nrating the golden sands which make their peculiar portion of \nf.ime from the fused ingot. All will agree that no similar \n(juantity of powder ever made so great a noise in the world as \nthat burned on the Green at Lexington, and all along the old \ncolonial highway. \n\n18 \n\n\n410 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. \n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. \n\n\" Ah ! who could deem that foot of Indian crew \nWas near ? — yet there, with lust of murderous deeds, \nGleamed like a basilisk from woods in view, \nThe ambushed foeman's eye.\" \n\nTHE village of South Sudbury lies embosomed in a little \nvalley formed by considerable hills. A few houses \nmount the slope of the easternmost eminence, which is called \nGreen Hill, while to the southwest of the meadows through \nwhich trickles the Mill or Hop Brook, rises what we call a \nmountain in Massachusetts, — a 'well-wooded height lying \npartly in Framingham and still holding to its Indian name of \nNobscot. The brook once turned the water-wheel of an an- \ncient saw and grist mill at the foot of Green Hill. \n\nThe years 1675-76 were fateful ones for New England. \nThe old chronicler, Hubbard, says, \" It was ebbing water with \nNew England at this time, and awhile after; but God shall \nturn the stream before it be long, and bring down their en© \nmies to lick the dust before them.\" Philip, the great chief tain \nof the Wampanoags, had begun hostilities with the whites, \nand for a time it looked as if he might destroy all their frontier \nsettlements. Had he been able to effect his object of bringing \nall the savage nations into alliance, the war might have ended \nwith the extermination of the pale-faces. \n\nIndians were everywhere. There had been no formal decla- \nration of war, — nothing of that poetic exchange of rattlesnake- \nskin filled with arrows for the white man's powder and lead. \nThere was nothing chivalric about it. The war Avas planned \nin secret and in treachery; the onset was sudden and wellnigh \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. 411 \n\nirresistible. The first intimation the English had that Philip \nhad dug up the hatchet was in the fatal shot from an ambus- \ncade, or the war-whoop sounded in the midst of the hamlets. \nAt this time the Colony could muster about four thousand foot \nand four hundred horse, without reckoning the aged or infirm. \n\nOn their part, tVie whites were not move blameless than they \nnow are, more than two hundred years since, when the work of \nextinguishing the remnant of the red race is approaching the \nend. Two centuries ago the Indians were powerful enough, on \nthe Atlantic shore to render it doubtful for a time whether the \nEnglish might retain a precarious foothold in the seaports. To- \nday they are hunted down among the rocky fastnesses of the \nPacific. \n\nIn 1675 there were, as now, Indian traders without souls, \nand Enghshmen who thought as Httle of shooting a savage as \nof outraging a squaw. There was also the fire-water, under the \ninfluence of which the savage parted with his birthright, or \nmade his mark at the bottom of a so-caUed treaty, of which he \nknew not the meaning. The English fought then for self-pres- \nervation, which we know is nature's first law, so that we can \nwell pardon them for dealing blow for blow, — and even their \nreverend teachers for preaching a crusade against the savages, \nas Dr. Mather and the clergy generally did. The Indians — \ndid they not suspect it, and did not their wise men foretell it 1 \n— were also fighting for self-preservation. The law was as in- \nexorable to them as to the pale-face. Philip was living in a \nsort of vassalage which his proud spirit rebelled against. Did \nan Englishman complain of an injury from an Indian, his \nsachem was instantly cited to appear before the stranger's coun- \ncil. Did an Indian complain of the -wrong of a white man, \njustice was oftentimes both blind and deaf. The Indians \nwarred after a cruel fashion, certainly. They tortured the \nliving and mutilated the dead. But then, after all, they were \nbut savages, and it was the manner in which they had been ac- \ncustomed to wage war among themselves ; until we had civilized \nthem we had little right to murmur if they did not adopt our \nstyle of warfare. But what did the English do 1 With the \n\n\n412 \n\n\nHISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\n\nHoly Scriptures in one hand, they ordered the beheading and \nscalping of theh' red enemies. Tlie Quakers who refused to en- \nlist were compelled to run the gauntlet in Boston streets, and \nattempts were made to break open the jails and put to death \nthe Indian prisoners. There was a strong dash of heroism in \nPhilip of Pokanoket, and we cannot blame him for making \none grand effort for freedom. \n\nWhen the news came to the Massachusetts capital that the \nfrontier towns were being harried, drums beat to arms, and \nstout John Leverett summoned his council together. Hench- \nman, Hutchinson, Paige, Willard, and the other captains put \non their buff coats and belted their heavy broadswords or ra- \npiers about them. The bands were mustered. In each com- \npany was an ensign, who bore aloft a color of red sarsenet, a \n\nyard square, with the \nnumber of the company \nin white thereon. An- \nothei* had a white blaze \nin the centre. Volun- \nteers were demanded, and \neven the profane seafar- \ning men — \"privateers,\" \nas they were called — \nwere enrolled. A guard \nof musketeers was set at \nthe entrance of the town. \nA busy man was John \nFayerweather, the com- \nmissary, in providing for \nthe levies. With drums \nbeating, trumpets bray- \ning, and standards dis- \nplayed, the troops de- \nfiled through the town- \ngates. A few encoun- \nters, and this bravery of regular war was laid aside. This was \nabove two hundred years ago, and yet we have lately seen \n\n\nKING PHILIP, FROM AN OLD PRINT. \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. 413 \n\nour brave men led into an enemy's ambush as unwarily as \nthey were in the year 1675. \n\nSome of the evils which a solemn session of the General \nCourt, convened at Boston at this time, held to lie at the foun- \ndation of their misfortunes, were the proud excesses in apparel \nand hair of which many — \" yea, and of the poorer sorte as well \nas others \" — were guilty. The Quakers came in for a liberal \nshare of invective. Excess in drinking, and the toleration of \nso many taverns, especially in Boston, which the townspeople \nwere too much inclined to frequent, were glaring offences. It \nwas urged that profane swearing had frequently been heard, \nand steps were taken to suppress and punish it. The fourth \nand fifth commandments were ordered to be better observed \nthan formerly, and it was decreed that there should be no \nmore such oppression by merchants or laborers as had been. \nTruly, Philip was working a social revolution among his \nenemies of Massachusetts Bay ! \n\nFrom these measiu'es we may see that our forefathers were \nnot so well satisfied with themselves as to feel sure of pro'sdden- \ntial aid in their work of killing savages ; but it is set down in \nthe chronicles that on the very day when these new civil regu- \nlations were established, the English forces achieved a victory \nat Hatfield. \n\nDuring the summer and autumn of 1675 the Indians had \nalmost uninterrupted success. They had ravaged the country \nfrom the Cuunecticut to the shores of Boston Bay, and a stray \nwarrior had appt;aie(j within a few miles of Boston Town -House. \nIn November t^g commissioners of Massachusetts, Plymouth, \nand Connecticut met at Boston, and agreed to raise an army of \na thousand men, of which the Bay Colony furijished more than \nhaK. At the head of this force Winslow assaulted the strong-- \nhold of the Narragansetts in December, inflicting a terrible de- \nfeat upon that nation, and entirely breaking its power. \n\nThe Indians resumed hostilities in the early spring of 1676. \nThe English had become more circumspect ; still their losses \nwere heavy, and the path of PhiHp's warriors could be marked \nby desolation and ruin. The w^hites, too, learned at length to \n\n\n414 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nmake use of tlie Christian or Praying Indians, to act as runners \nand scouts, — a measure which we in \"later times imitated \nwith advantage in the employment of the Warm Springs In- \ndians against the Modocs. \n\nOne Sabbath, late in March, the Indians attacked Marl- \nborough, while the inhabitants were at divine worship in their \nmeeting-house. The people sought the shelter of their garrison- \nhouses, which were found in every settlement, leaving the \nenemy to burn the greater part of the town. Lancaster had \npreviously suffered, and the tale of the captivity and redemp- \ntion of Mrs. Eowlandson furnishes a graphic chapter of these \nterrible years. \n\nIn April Philip had assembled about four hundred of his \nfollowers in the neighborhood of Marlborough, and after burn- \ning the few deserted houses they fell with fury upon Sudbury. \nA small party from Concord, coming to the assistance of their \nneighbors, were ambushed and slain. The news of the descent \non Marlborough having reached Boston, Captain Samuel \"Wads- \nworth was despatched with a company of soldiers to its relief. \nReaching Marlborough after a weary march of twenty -five miles, \nWadsworth learned that his enemy had gone in the direction \nof Sudbury, and, after giving his men some rest and refresh- \nment, and being joined by Captain Brocklebank, who com- \nmanded the garrison at Marlborough., ho returned on his 0W7i \nfootsteps in pursuit, following, tradition says, the oW trail, \nafterwards the Lancaster road, now clo«e,d to travel. \n\nWhen within what is now South oudbi'iy? ^^\"\"adsworth saw \nabout a hundred of the enemy's war-p;iily, \\Yith whom, believ- \ning them the main body, he endeavored to clo&'c. The Indians \nretired slowly through the woods, until Wadsworth's men were \nwholly encompassed by enemies lying in concealment, when \nthe terrific war-whoop rang through the forest, and every tree \naround the devoted band blazed with a death-shot. The Eng- \nlish, perceiving theirs to be a desperate case, fought with obsti- \nnate bravery, but were at length forced to the top of Green \nHill, the circle of enemies all the while drawing closer around \nthem. On this hill they defended themselves valiantly untU \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. 415 \n\nnightfall, when gotne of the party, attempting to escape, were \nfollowed by others, vjitil a precipitate retreat was the result. \nThe Indians pursued, slaying aU but thirteen or fourteen, who \nsought safety at Noyes's mill, — the same referred to in another \nplace. This mill was fortified after the usual fashion of the \ngarrisons, but had been abandoned by the Sudbury people. \nBelieving it to be still occupied by them, the Indians did not \nventure to the assault, but withdrew to complete and celebrate \ntheir victory. The survivors at the mill were afterwards re- \nlieved by Captain Hugh Mason's company from Watertown, \nwho approached the battle-ground by way of Mount Nobscot, \nwhere they left the carts containing their baggage and pro- \nvisions. The Indians were still in the \\T.cinity, but Mason did \nnot feel sufficiently strong to attack them. \n\nThe English lost in this battle their captain, Wadsworth ; \nSharp, their lieutenant ; and twenty-six others, besides Captain \nBrocklebank. Five or six who were captured were put to the \ntorture on the night of the fight. The remains of the fallen \nEnglishmen were gathered and interred near the spot where \nthey fell. Over their common grave a heap of loose stones was \npiled. This humble monument was in an open field, about \nthirty rods east of the road, and near a growth of pines and \noaks. The soil on the hill-top is light and sandy. \n\n\"With this victory Phihp's onset culroinated, and he began to \ndrift down the tide apace. The fierce Maquas and Senecas \nattacked the undefended villages of his aUies, while sickness \nand disease spread among his people. Disasters overtook him, \nand he became a hunted fugitive. On the 12th of August, \n1676, he fell by the hand of one of his own race, and was be- \nheaded and quartered by the Plymouth authorities, -; — his head \nbeing set on a gibbet, where it was to be seen for twenty years. \n\nA plain slab of blue slate was raised over the remains of \nCaptain Wadsworth and his ill-fated companions by his son, \nPresident Wadsworth, of Harvard College. It bears the follow- \ning inscription : — \n\nCapt. Samuel Wadsworth of Milton, his Lieut. Sharp of Brook- \nlin, Capt. Broclebank of Rowley, with about 26 other souldiers, \n\n18* AA \n\n\n416 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nfighting lor the defence of their country, were slain by y Indian \nenemy, April 18th, 1676, lye buried in this place.\" \n\nIn 1852 the reHcs were exhumed and removed a little dis- \ntance to the site of the present monument, — a plain granite \nshaft, which was dedicated by an address from Hon. George S. \nBoutweU, present Senator for Massachusetts. The old grave- \nstone is placed at the base of the monument, the tablet of \nwhich recites that it was erected by the Commonwealth and the \ntown of Sudbury, in grateful remembrance of the services and \nsufferings of the founders of the State. The same date is ex- \nhibited on the monument as is borne on the old slab, namely, \nApril 18, 1676 ; but as this is a subject of contradiction among \nthe historians of the time, the committee concluded to adhere \nto the date adopted by President \"Wadsworth. \n\nA fuUer research has turned the weight of testimony against \nthe earlier date, and in favor of AprU 21 as the time of the \nfight. In the midst of discrepancies of this character the nar- \nrator has only to accept what is supported by the greatest num- \nber of authorities, and these certainly are on the side of April \n21, 1676. \n\nIn the discussion which has ensued as to the date which \nshould have been placed on the Wadsworth monument, it was \nassumed by the distinguished advocate of the earlier date that \ncommunication with Boston was cut off by Philip between the \n17th and 20th of AprU. Doubts have also been expressed as to \nwhether intelligence of the fight could have reached the vicinity \nof Boston on the same day. The authorities had not neglected \nso vital a matter as the arrangement of signals between the gar- \nrison attacked and the capital. The firing was, of course, dis- \ntiactly heard in the neighboring towns, and was communicated \nby alarm-guns from garrison to garrison until it reached Boston. \nIn Hutchinson's History an example is given of the rapidity \nwith which communication could be transmitted : — \n\n\" Sept 23* (1676) an alarm was made in the town of Boston about \nten in the morning, 1200 men were in arms before 11 and all dis- \nmissed before 12. One that was upon guard at Mendon, 30 miles \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE iNN. 417 \n\noff, got drunk and fired his gun, the noise of which alarmed the next \nneighbors and so spread to Boston.\" \n\nConsidering what were then the resources of the Colony, Sud- \nhuij fight was as important in its day as a pitched battle with \nthousands of combatants would be in our own time. It occa- \nsioned great depression. The Indians must have lost heavily \nto have conducted their subsequent operations so feebly. \n\nThough the whites usually ventured to attack them with \ngreatly inferior numbers, they were far' from being contemptible \nfoes. The Englishman's buff coat would sometimes turn a bul- \nlet, but the Indian's breast was bared to his enemy. His \nprimitive weapons, however, the bow and arroAV, had been ex- \nchanged for guns and hatchets, which he soon learned to use \nbut too well. The Dutch on one side, or the French on another, \nkept him supplied with powder and ball. He fought for his \nhunting-grounds, now parcelled out among strangers. He fell \nto be received into the elysian fields of the great Manitou. \n\nAVe caimot forbear our tribute of pity and of admiration for \nPhilip. \"What though he struck the war-post and chanted the \ndeath-song to gather his dusky warriors for one mighty effort to \nexterminate our ancestors, his cause was the same that has ever \nreceived the world's applause. Liberty was as sweet to Philip \nas to a TeU or a Toussaint, but he failed to achieve it, and the \nshades of oblivion have gathered around his name. There was \na simple yet kingly dignity in Philip's communications to the \nchief men among the colonists. His neck could not bear the \nyoke ; he must wallc free beneath the sun. \n\nThough the great chief's pohcy would not have left a single \nfoe aUve, it is known that he sent warning to some among the \nwhites who had bound themselves to liim by uprightness and \nhonorable dealing. In that part of Taunton now known as \nRaynham was one of Philip's summer haunts for fishing and \nhunting. The Leonards had there erected the first forge in New \nEngland, if not in North America, and had there hved in amity \nwith the Indian prince. They fashioned him spear and arrow- \nheads with which to strike the red-deer or the leaping salmon, \nand he repaid them with game, rich skins, and wampum. To \nthem he gave a hint to look to their safety. \n\n\n418 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nIt seems passing strange to be standing beside a monu- \nment erected to commemorate a victory over our sires by a \nrace wellnigb blotted out of existence. Every circumstance \nof our surroundings, every object upon which the eye dwells \nin the landscape, gives the lie to such an event. \"Where the \nwarriors lay in ambush, green and well-tilled fields extend \nthemselves ; where the old mill creaked, steam issues from its \nsuccessor ; instead of the Indian trail the railway presents its \niron pathway ; the rude yet massive garrison-house is replaced \nby yonder costly villa ; and the simple village meeting, in \nwhich the settlers fearfully pursued their devotions with arms \nin their hands, is renewed where we see the distant and lofty \nspire. The virgin forests have disappeared as completely as \nhave the red-men who threaded the greenwood. All nature is \nat work for man where once all was repose. Only the hills and \nthe stream remain as pressed by the moccason or cleft by the \ncanoe. \n\nIn Pilgrim Hall, at Plymouth, the stranger is shown some \nmemorials of Philip. The barrel of the gun tlirough which the \nbullet passed to his heart, and the cu.riously woven helmet \nwhich he is said to have worn, are there displayed among the \nbones and implerueiits of his race. As yet we lack, here in \nNew England, a museum devoted to Indian antiquities, in \nwhich we might see the dress, arms, and utensils of the natives \nof the soil. It would be a most interesting collection. They \nwere no effete Asiatics, but a brave, warlike, hardy people. \nTheir liistory is filled with poetry and romance. Even Cooper, \nwhile presenting in a Magna the wild, untamable, vindictive \nsavage, depicts on the same scene an Uncas brave, noble, and \ndevoted. \n\nAbout three miles from Sudbury Mills and four from Marl- \nborough is the old Wayside Inn, which Longfellow has made \nfamous. It stands in a sequestered nook among the hiUs Avhich \nupheave the neighboring region like ocean billows. For above \ntwo hundred years, during the greater part of which it has been \noccupied as a tavern, this ancient hostelry has stood here with \nits door hospitably open to wayfarers. \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. \n\n\n419 \n\n\nD.H:^^fs^. \n\n\nIn the olden time the road possessed the importance of a \nmtich-travelled highway, but with the building of railways \nthrough this region, travel deserted it, and custom the tavern. \nAfter being closed for thirty years as a public house, for once, \nat least, sentiment has prevailed over the logic of events, and \nonce again the old inn, true to its ancient traditions, proffers \n\" entertainment to man and beast \" as of yore. \n\n\" As ancient is this hostelry \nAs any in the land may be, \nBuilt in the old Colonial day, \n^^^^en men lived in a grander way, \nWith ampler hospitality.\" \n\nThe name of the house was the Red Horse, and at the other \nend of the route, belonging to the same family, in rivalry of \ngood cheer, was the White Horse \nin' Old Boston Town. The horse \nhas always been a favorite symbol \nwith pubUcans. However tedious \nthe vray may have been, however \nshambling or void of spirit your \nhackney of the road, the steed on \nthe hostel sign always pranced \nproudly, was of high mettle, and \nof as gallant carriage as was ever \nblazoned on Saxon's shield. \n\nThe Red Horse in Sudbury was built about 1686. From \nthe year 1714 to near, if not quite, the completion of a cen- \ntury and a half, it was kept as an irm by generation after gen- \neration of the Howes, the last being Lyman Howe, who served \nthe guests of the house from 1831 until about 1860. The \ntavern stood about half-way on the great road to Worces- \nter, measuring twenty-three good Enghsh miles from Boston \nTown-House. \n\nWeU, those were good old times, after all. A traveller, after \na hard day's jaunt, pulls up at the Red Horse. The landlord \nis at the door, hat in hand, with a cheery welcome, and a shout \nto the blacks to care for the stranger's beast. Is it winter, a \n\n\nSIGN OF TKE WAYSIDE INN, \n\n\n420 HISTOKIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nmimic conflagi-ation roars on the hearth. A bowl of punch is \nbrewed, smoking hot. The guest, nothing loath, swallows the \nmixture, heaves a deep sigh, and declares liimself better for \na thousand pounds. Soon there comes a summons to table, \nwhere good wholesome roast-beef, done to that perfection of \nwhich the turnspit only was capable, roasted potatoes with \ntheir russet jackets brown and crisp, and a loaf as white as the \nlandlady's Sunday cap send up an appetizing odor. Our guest \nfalls to. Hunger is a good trencherman, and he would have \nscorned your modern tidbits, — jeUies, truffles, and pates afois \ngras. For drink, the well was deep, the water pure and spark- \nling, but home-brewed ale or cider was at the guest's elbow, \nand a cup of chocolate finished his repast. He begins to be \ndrowsy, and is lighted to an upper chamber by some pretty \nmaid-of-aU-work, who, finding her pouting lips in danger, is \nperhaps compelled to stand on the defensive Avith the warm- \ning-pan she has but now so dexterously passed between the \nfrigid sheets. At parting, Boniface holds his guest's stirrup, \nwarns him of the ford or the morass, and bids him good speed. \nOur modern landlord is a person whose existence we take \nupon trust. He is never seen by the casual guest, and if he \nwere, is far too great a man for common mortals to expect \nspeech of him. He sits in a parlor, with messengers, perhaps \nthe telegraph, at his beck and call. His feet rest on velvet, \nhis body reclines on air-cushions. You must at least be an \nEnglish milord, a Eussian prince, or an American Senator, to \nreceive the notice of such a magnate. It is a grave question \nwhether he knows what his guests are eating, or if, in case of \nfire, their safety is secured. His bank-book occupies his undi- \nvided attention. \" Like master, hlie man.\" Your existence is \nall but ignored by the lesser gentry. You fee the boot-black, \ntip the waiter, drop a douceur into the chambermaid's palm, \nand, at your departure, receive a vacant stare from the curled, \nmustached personage who hands you your bill. At entering \none of these huge caravansaries you feel your individuality lost, \nyour identity gone, in the living throng. Neglected, heavy- \nhearted, but lighter, far hghter in purse than when you came. \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. 421 \n\nyou pass out under a marble portico and drift away with the \nstream. Give, 0 publican, the stranger a welcome, a shake of \nthe hand, a nod at parting, and put it in the bill. \n\nComing from the direction of Marlborough, at a little dis- \ntance, the gambrel roof of the Wayside Inn peeps above a dense \nmass of foliage. A sharp turn of the road, which once passed \nunder a triumphal arch composed of two lordly elms, and you \nare before the house itself. Formerly tlie capacious barns and \ntall sign-posts stood across the old, grass-bordered, country \nroad, which leads straight up to the tavern door. The general \nappearance of things, however, has been much altered by the \nbuilding of a new macadam road past the spot, by the State. \nBut let us go in. \n\nThe interior of the inn. is spacious and cool, as was suited to \na haven of rest. A dozen apartments of one of our modern \nhotels could be set up within the space allotted to his patrons \nby mine host of the \"Wayside. Escaping from a cramped stage- \ncoach, or the heat of a July day, our visitor's lungs would here \nbegin to expand \" like chanticleer,\" as, flinging his flaxen wig \ninto a corner, and lianging his broad-flapped coat on a peg, he \nsits unbraced, with a bowl of the jolly landlord's extra-brewed \nin one hand, and a long clay pipe in the other, master of the \nsituation. \n\nEverything remains as of old. There is the bar in one corner \nof the common room, with its wooden portcullis, made to be \nhoisted or let down at pleasure, but over which never appeared \nthat ominous announcement, \" IS'o liquors sold over this bar.\" \nThe little desk where the tipplers' score was set down, and the \nold escritoire, looking as if it might have come from some hos- \npital for decayed and battered furniture, are there now. The \nbare floor, which once received its regular morning sprinkling \nof clean white sea-sand, the bare beams and timbers overhead, \nfrom which the whitewash has fallen in flakes, and the very \noak of which is seasoned with the spicy vapors steaming from \npewter flagons, all remind us of the good old days before the \nflood of new ideas. Governors, magistrates, generals, with \nscores of others whose names are remembered with honor, have \nbeen here to quaff a health or indulge in a drinking-bout. \n\n\n422 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nIn the guests' room, on the left of the entrance, the window- \npane bears the following recommendation, cut with a gem that \nsparkled on the finger of that young roysterer, William Moli- \nneux, Jr., whose father was the man that walked beside the \nking's troops in Boston, to save them from the insults of the \ntownspeople, — the friend of Otis and of John Adams : — \n\n\" What do you tliink \nHere is good drink \nPerliaps you may not know it ; \nIf not in haste do stop and taste ' \nYou merry folks will shew it. \n\nWm. Molineux Jr. Esq. \n24th June 1774 Boston.\" \n\nThe writer's hand became unsteady at the last line, and it \nlooks as though his rhyme had halted while he turned to some \ncompanion for a hint, or, what is perhaps more likely, here gave \nmanual evidence of the potency of his draughts. \n\nA ramble through the house awakens many memories. You \nare shown the travellers' room, which they of lesser note occu- \npied in common, and the state chamber where Washington and \nLafayette are said to have rested. In the garret the slaves were \naccommodated, and the crooknecks and red peppers hung from \nthe rafters. This part of the house has been fitted up into \nbedrooms, by the present proprietor, Mr. Lemon. \n\nConducted by the presiding genius of the place, Mrs. Dad- \nmun, we passed from room to room and into the dance-hall, \nannexed to the ancient building. The dais at the end for \nthe fiddlers, the wooden benches fixed to the walls, the floor \nsmoothly polished by many joyous feet, and the modest effort \nat ornament, displayed the theatre where many a long winter's \nnight had worn away into the morn ere the company dispersed \nto their beds, or the jangle of bells on the frosty air betokened \nthe departure of the last of the country belles. The German \nwas unknown ; Polka, Eedowa, Lancers, were not ; but contra- \ndances, cotillons, and minuets Avere measured by dainty feet, \nand the landlord's wooden lattice remained triced up the livelong \n\n\nAT THE WAYSIDE INN. 423 \n\nnight. 0 the amorous glances, the laughter, the bright eyes, and \nthe bashful whispers that these walls have seen and listened to, \n— and the actors all dead and buried ! The place is silent now, \nand there is no music, except you hear through the open win- \ndows the flute-like notes of the wood-thrush where he sits \ncarolling a love-ditty to his mate. \n\nThe road on which stands the old inn first became a regular \npost-route about 1711, a mail being then carried over it twice \na week to New York. But as early as 1704, the year of the \npublication of the first newspaper in America, there was a west- \nern post carried \\nth greater or less regularity, and travellers \navailed themselves of the post-rider's company over a tedious, \ndreary, and ofttunes hazardous road. \n\nWe have the journal of Madam Knight, of a journey made \nby her in 1704, to New Haven, with no other escort than the \npost-rider, — an undertaking of which we can now form little \nconception. She left Boston on the 2d of October, and \nreached her destination on the 7th. The details of some \nof her trials appear sufficiently ludicrous. For example, she \nreached, after dark, the first night, a tavern where the post \nusually lodged. On entering the house, she was interrogated \nby a young woman of the family after this fashion : — \n\n\" Law for mee — what ia the world brings You here at this time \na night. I never see a woman on the Eode so Dreadfidl late in all \nthe days of my versall life. Who are You ? Where axe You \ngoing 1 I 'm scar'd out of my wits.\" \n\nWho that has ever travelled an unknown route, finding the \nfarther he advanced, the farther, to all appearances, he was from \nhis journey's end, or whoever, finding himself baffled, has at \nlast inquired his way of some boor, will deeply sympathize \nwith the tale of the poor lady's woes. At the last stage of her \nroute, the guide being unacquainted with the way, she asked \nand received direction from some she met. \n\n\" They told us we must Ride a mile or two and tume downe a \nLane on the Right hand ; and by their Direction wee Rode on, but \nnot Yet coming to y* tiuning, we mett a Young fellow and ask't him \n\n\n424 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nhow far it was to the Lane which turn'd down towards Guilford. \nHee said wee muse Ride a little further and turn down by the \nCorner of micle Sara's Lott. My Guide vented his spleen at the \nLubber.\" \n\nNo wonder that wheii safe at home again in Old Boston, she \nwrote on a pane of glass in the house that afterwards became \nthat of Dr. Samuel Mather, — \n\n\" Now I 've returned poor Sarah Knights, \nThro' many toils and many frights ; \nOver great rocks and many stones, \nGod has presarv'd from fracter'd bones,\" \n\nThe use of coaches was introduced into England by Fitz \nAlan, Earl of Axundel, A. D. 1580. At first they were drawn \nby two horses only. It was Buckingham, the favorite, who \n(about 1619) began to have them drawn by six horses, which, \nas an old historian says, was wondered at as a novelty, and \nimputed to him a \" mastering pride.\" Captain Levi Pease was \nthe first man to put on a regular stage between Boston and \nHartford, about 1784. \n\nThe first post-route to New York, over which Madam \nKnight travelled in 1704, went by the way of Providence, \nStonington, New London, and the shore of Long Island \nSoimd. The distance was 255 miles. We subjoin the itin- \nerary of the road as far as Providence : — \n\n\"From Boston South-end to Roxbury Meeting-house 2 miles, \nthence to Mr. Fisher's at Dedham 9, thence to Mr. Whites * 6, to \nMr. Billings 7, to Mr. Shepard's at Wading River 7, thence to Mr. \n_ Woodcock's t 3, from thence to Mr. Turpins at Providence 14, or to \nthe Sign of the Bear at Seaconck 10, thence to Providence 4, to \nMr. Potters in said town 8.\" \n\n* Stoughton, f Attlehorough. \n\n\nP3 \nO \n\n\nO \n\n\nTHE HOME OF RUMFOKD. 425 \n\n\nCHAPTEE XX. \n\nTHE HOME OF RUMFORD. \n\" Fortune does not change men, it only unmasks them.\" \n\nTHE world knows by heart the career of this extraordinary \nman. Sated with honors, he died at Auteuil, near Paris, \nAugust 21, 1814. Titles, decorations, and the honorary dis- \ntinctions of learned societies flowed in upon the poor Ameri- \ncan youth such as have seldom fallen to the lot of one risen \nfi'om the ranks of the people. The antecedents and character \nof the man have very naturally given rise to much inquiry and \nspeculation. \n\nBenjamin Thompson was born iu the west end of his grand- \nfather's house in IS'orth Woburn, March 26, 1753. The room \nwhere he first drew breath is on the left of the entrance, and \non the first floor. As for the house, it is a plain, old-fashioned, \ntwo-story farm-house, with a gambrel roof, out of which is \ntlirust one of those immense chimneys of great breadth and, \nsolidity. A large willow which formerly stood between the \nhouse and the road has disappeared, and is no longer a guide to \nthe spot. Tliis ancient dwelling has a pleasant situation on a \nhttle rising ground back from the road, which here embraces in \nits sweep the old house and the queer little meeting-house, its \nneighbor. \n\nA pretty Httle maiden deftly binding shoes, and an elderly \nfemale companion who had passed twenty years of her life under \ntliis roof, were the occupants of the apartment in which Count \nEumford was born. A Connecticut clock, which ticked noisily \nabove the old fireplace, and a bureau, the heirloom of several \ngenerations, were two very dissimilar objects among the fur- \nniture of the room. There are no relics of the Thompsons \nremaining there. \n\n\n426 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nThe father of our subject died while Benjamin was yet an \ninfant, and the widowed mother made a second marriage with \nJosiah Pierce, Jr., of \"Woburn, when the future Count of the \nHoly Eoman Empire was only three years old. After this \nevent Mrs. Pierce removed from the old house to another which \nformerly stood opposite the Baldwin Place, half a mile nearer \nthe centre of Woburn. \n\nAt the age of thirteen young Thompson was apprenticed to \nJohn Appleton, a shopkeeper of Salem, Massachusetts, and in \n1769 he entered the employment of HopestiU Capen in Boston. \nWhile at Salem, Thompson was engaged during his leisure \nmoments in experiments in chemistry and mechanics, and it is \nrecorded that in one branch of science he one day blew himself \nup with some explosive materials he was preparing, while on \nthe other hand he walked one night from Salem to Woburn, a \ndistance of twenty odd mOes, to exhibit to his friend Loammi \nBaldwin a machine he had contrived, and with which he ex- \npected to illustrate the problem of perpetual motion. His mind \nappears at this period absorbed in these fascinating studies to \nan extent which must have impaked his usefulness in his mas- \nter's shop. \n\nA few doors south of Boston Stone every one may see an \nantiquated building of red brick, a souvenir of the old town, \nwhich was standing here long before the Eevolution. Strange \nfreaks have been playing in its vicinity since Benjamin Thomp- \nson tended behind the counter there. The canal at the back \nhas been changed into solid earth, and sails are no more \nseen mysteriously gliding through the streets from the harbor \nto the MiU-pond. The facsimile of Sir Thomas Gresham's \ngrasshopper, on the pinnacle of Faneuil Hall, is about the \nonly object left in the neighborhood familiar to the eye of \nthe apprentice, who, we may' assume, would not have been \nabsent from the memorable convocations which were held \nwithin the waUs of the old temple in his day. The build- \ning with which Rumford's name is thus connected forms \nthe angle where Marshall's Lane enters Union Street, and \nbears the sign of the descendant of the second oystermau \n\n\nTHE HOME OF RUMFORD. 427 \n\nin Boston, himself for fifty years a vender of the delicious \nbivalve. \n\nThompson's master, Hopestill Capen, becomes a public char- \nacter through his apprentice, whom he may stiU have regarded \nas of Uttle advantage in the shop by reason of his strongly \ndeveloped scientific vagaries. Capen had been a carpenter, \nwith whom that good soldier, Lemuel Trescott, served his \ntime. He married an old maid who kept a little dry-goods \nstore in Union Street, and then, uniting matrimony and trade \nin one harmonious partnership, abandoned tools and joined his \nwife in the shop. Samuel Parkman, afterwards a well-known \nBoston merchant, was Thompson's fellow-apprentice. The \nfamous Tommy Capen succeeded to the shop and enjoyed its \ncustom. \n\nThompson, at nineteen, went to Concord, New Hampsliire, \nthen known as Rumford, and from which his titular designation \nwas taken. At this time he was described as of \" a fine manly \nmake and figure, nearly six feet in height, of handsome fea- \ntures, bright blue eyes, and dark auburn hair.\" He soon after \nmarried the widow of Colonel Benjamin Eolfe, a lady ten or a \ndozen years his senior. Eumford himself is reported by his \nfriend Pictet as having said, \" I married, or rather I was mar- \nried, at the age of nineteen.\" One child, a daughter, was the \nresult of this marriage. She was afterwards known as Sarah, \nCountess of Rumford. \n\nIf Rumford meant to convey to Pictet the idea that his union \nwith Mrs. Rolfe was a merely passive act on his part, or that she \nwas the wooer and he only the consenting party, he put in a \nplea for his subsequent neglect which draws but little on our \nsympathy. His wife, according to his biographers, took him \nto Boston, clothed him in scarlet, and was the means of intro- \nducing him to the magnates of the Colony. \n\nThe idea forces itself into view that at this time Rumford's \nambition was beginning to develop into the moving principle \nof his life. The society and notice of his superiors in worldly \nstation appears to have impressed him greatly, and it is evident \nthat the agitation which wide differences with the mother \n\n\n428 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\ncountry was then causing in the Colonies did not find in him \nthat active sympatliy which was the rule with the young and \nardent spirits of his own age. He grew up in the midst of \ntroubles which moulded the men of the Eevolution, and at a \ntime when not to be with his brethren was to be against them, \n\"We seldom look in a great national crisis for hesitation or de- \nliberation at twenty-one. \n\nCertain it is that Rumford fell under the suspicions of his \nown friends and neighbors as being inclined to the royalist \nside. He met the accusation boldly, and as no specific charges \nof importance were made against him, nothing was proven. \nThe feeling against him, however, was so strong that he fled \nfrom his home to escape personal violence, taking refuge at \nfirst at his mother's home in Wobuxn, and subsequently at \nCharlestown. \n\nThompson was arrested by the Woburn authorities after the \nbattle of Lexington, was examined, and released ; but the taint \nof suspicion still clung to him. He petitioned the Provincial \nCongress to investigate the charges against him, but they re- \nfused to consider the application. He remained in the vicinity \nof the camps at Cambridge, vainly endeavoring to procure a \ncommission in the service of the Colony, until October, 1775, \nwhen he suddenly took his departure, and is next heard of \nwithin the enemy's lines at Boston. \n\nIn the short time intervening between October and March, \n— the month in which Howe's forces evacuated Boston, — \nThompson had acquired such a confidential relation with that \ngeneral as to be made the bearer of the official news of the end \nof the siege to Lord George Germaine. He does not seem to \nhave embraced the opportunity of remaining neutral under \nBritish protection, as did hundreds of others, but at once \nmakes himself serviceable, and casts his lot with the British \narmy. \n\nIt has been well said that nothing can justify a man in be- \ncoming a traitor to his country. Thompson's situation with \nthe army at Cambridge must have been wellnigh intolerable, \nbut he had always the alternative of living down the clamors \n\n\nTHE HOME OF RUMFORD. 429 \n\nagainst him, or of going into voluntary exile. His choice \nof a course which enabled him to do the most harm to the \ncause of his countrymen gives good reason to doubt whether \nthe attachment he had once professed for their quarrel was \ngrounded on any fixed principles. Be that as it may, from \nthe time he clandestinely withdrew from the Americans \nuntil the end of the war his talents and knowledge were \ndirected to their overthrow with all the zeal of which he was \ncapable. \n\nFrom this point Rumford's career is a matter of history. At \nhis death he was a count of the Holy Eoman Empire, lieuten- \nant-general in the service of Bavaria, F. R. S., Foreign Fellow \nof the French Institute, besides being a knight of the orders of \nSt. Stanislaus and of the White Eagle. \n\nRumford had derived some advantage from his attendance at \nthe lectures of Professor Winthrop, of Harvard University, on \nNatural Philosophy. With his friend, Loam mi Baldwin, he \nhad been accustomed to walk from Woburn to Cambridge to \nbe present at these lectures. Being at the camp, he had assisted \nin packing up the apparatus for removal when the College \nbuildings were occupied by the soldiery. In his will he re- \nmembered the University by a legacy of a thousand dollars \nannually, besides the reversion of other sums, for the purpose \nof founding a professorship in the physical and mathematical \nsciences, the improvement of the useful arts, and for the exten- \nsion of industry, prosperity, and the well-being of society. \nJacob Bigelow, M. D., was the first incumbent of the chair of \nthis professorship. \n\nA miniature of Count Rumford, from which the portrait in \nSparks's Biography was engraved, is, or was, in the possession \nof George W. Pierce, Esq. The Count is painted in a blue \ncoat, across which is worn a broad blue ribbon. A decoration \nappears on the left breast. The miniature, a work of much \nartistic excellence, bears a certain resemblance to the late Presi- \ndent Pierce, a distant relative of the Count. It is a copy from \na portrait painted by Kellenhofer of Munich, in 1792, and is \ninscribed on the back, probably in Rumford's own hand, \" Pre- \n\n\n430 HISTORIC MANSIONS AND HIGHWAYS. \n\nsented by Count Eumford to his much loved and respected \nmother 1799.\" \n\nColonel Loammi Baldwin, the companion of Thompson in \nearly youth, and who manfully stood up for his friend in the \nmidst of persecution, when the name of tory was of itself suffi- \ncient to cause the severance of life-long attachments, lived in \nthe large square house on the west side of the road before you \ncome to the birthplace of Thompson. The house has three \nstories, is ornamented with piUars at each corner, and has a \nbalustrade around the roof. In front is a row of fine elms, with \nspace for a carriage- drive between them and the mansion. The \nhouse could not be mistaken for anything else than the country- \nseat of one of the town notabilities. \n\nBaldwin's sympathies were whoUy on the side of the patri- \nots, and he was at once found in the ranks of their army. He \nwas at Lexington, at the siege of Boston, and in the surprise at \nTrenton, where a battalion of his regiment, the 26th Massachu- \nsetts, went into action with sixteen officers and one hundred \nand ninety men. Wesson, Baldwin's lieutenant-colonel, and \nIsaac Sherman, his major, were both in this battle, leading \nMigheU's, Badlam's, and Robinson's companies. \n\nColonel Baldmn resigned before the close of the war, and \nwas appointed High Sheriff of Middlesex in 1780. He has \nalready been named in connection with his great project, the \nMiddlesex Canal. He discovered and improved the apple \nknown by his name, and if that excellent gift of Pomona is \nking among fruits, the Baldwin is monarch of the orchard. His \nson Loammi inherited his father's mechanical genius. While \na student at Harvard he made with his pocket-knife a wooden \nclock, the wonder of his fellow- collegians. The Western Ave- \nnue, formerly the Mill Dam, in Boston, and the government \ndocks at Charlestown and Newport, are monuments of his skill \nas an engineer. \n\nWoburn was originally an appanage of ancient Charlestown, \nand was settled in 1640 under the name of Charlestown Vil- \nlage. Among its founders the name of Thomas Graves — the \nsame whom CromweU .named a rear-admiral — appears. A \n\n\nTHE HOME OF RUMFORD. 431 \n\nconfusion, not likely to be solved, exists as to whether he was \nthe same Thomas Graves who laid out Charlestown in 1629, \nand is known as the engineer. The admiral, however, is en- \ntitled to the distinction of having commanded, in 1643, the \n\" Tryal,\" the first ship built in Boston. \n\n\" Our revels now are ended ; these our actors, \nAs I foretold you, were all spirits, and \nAre melted into air, into thin air ; \nAnd, like the baseless fabric of this vision. \nThe cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces. \nThe solemn temples, the great globe itself. \nYea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, \nAnd like this insubstantial pageant faded. \nLeave not a rack behind.\" \n\n\n19 BB \n\n\nINDEX \n\n\nA. \n\nAdams, Hannah, 337. \n\nAdams, John, 68, 337. \n\nAdams, John Qiiincy, 226. \n\nAdams, Samuel, atLexington, 365-368. \n\nAlcott, A. Bronson, his residence and \nfamily, 376-378. \n\nAlcott, Louisa May, 378. \n\nAlcott, May, 378. \n\nAldrich, Thomas Bailey, 318. \n\nAllston, Washington, residence at \nCambridge, 193 ; works of, 193, 194 ; \nburial-place, 279. \n\nAmory, Thomas C, 93. \n\nAnchor, the history of, 39. \n\nAndrew, John A., 409. \n\nAppleton, Nathaniel, 215. \n\nApthorp, East, 197, 273, 274. \n\nArlington, incidents of battle at, 398 - \n405. \n\nArnold, Benedict, at Bemis's Heights, \n133 ; at Cambridge, 257, 325 ; anec- \ndotes of, 258, 272, 309. \n\nArtillery, American, 152-155. \n\nAuvergne, Philip d', 358. \n\nB. \n\nBaldwin, Loammi, 81, 430, 431. \n\nBaldwin, Loammi, Jr., 40. \n\nBaldwin, Captain Jonathan, 187. \n\nBallard, John, anecdote of, 354. \n\nBarker, Josiah, residence of, 28 ; re- \nbuilds Constitution, 40; sketch of, 41. \n\nBarrel!, Joseph, 172, 177, 178. \n\nBatchelder, Samuel, 283 ; residence of, \n285. \n\nBaylor, George, 300. \n\nBayonet, history of the, 247. \n\n\nBelcher, Andrew, 214. \n\nBelcher, Governor Jonathan, death and \n\nburial, 279 ; residence of, 285, 286. \nBelknap, Dr. Jeremy, 68. \nBenningtonbattle, incidents of,126, 127; \n\ntrophies of, 128, 129; prisoners, 128. \nBernard, Governor Francis, 228. \nBigelow, Dr. Jacob, 330, 338. \nBird, Joseph, 346. \nBissell- Trial, 397. \nBond, William C, 201. \nBorland, John, 197. \nBoston, blockade of, in 1781, 35 ; naval \n\nbattle in harbor, 35 ; Grenadiers, \n\n178 ; bombardment of, 181, 182 ; \n\nrelics of siege, 265. \nBoston Frigate, armament of, 34. \nBourne, Nehemiah, 12. \nBoutwell, George S., 416. \nBoylston, Nicholas, 225, 226. \nBradstreet, Governor Simon, 351. \nBranding, examples of, 171. \nBrattle's Majl, 280, 281. \nBrattle Street Church (Boston), ball \n\nin, 182. \nBrattle, Thomas, 281. \nBrattle, Thomas, son of William, 281, \n\n282. \nBrattle, William, 281. \nBray, Major John, 97, 184. \nBrimmer, George W., 338. \nBrocklebank, Captain, 414, 415. \nBrooks, Governor John, residence and \n\nsketch of, 133, 134. \nBunker, George, 80. \nBunker Hill Monument, history of, \n\n73-79. \nBunker (Breed's) Hill, battle of, \n\nBritish landing-place, 48, 49 ; Brit- \n\n\n434' \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\nish regiments engaged, 53 ; losses \nin, 56, 57 ; anecdotes of, 56-60 ; \nTrumbull's picture, 60; question of \ncommand, 60 - 63 ; anecdotes of, 64, \n65; redoubts, etc., 65, 66; disap- \npearance of, 66 ; anomalous author- \nity of American officers, 66 - 68 ; ac- \ncounts of, 70 - 73 ; American hos- \npital, 71; prisoners, 71; slaughter \nof British officers, 72, 73; Bunker \nHill proper fortified, 80, 81. \n\nBurbeck, Captain Henry, 173. \n\nBurgoyue, General Jolin, in Boston, \n59; arrives at Cambridge, 158 ; re- \n■ turns to England, 165; residence in \nCambridge, 197. \n\nBurr, Aaron, anecdotes of, 104, 105. \n\nc. \n\nCambridge, fortifications, 180 - 187 \n213, 243, 244; settlement of, 195 \n196; first church, 211, 212; Ferry \n212 ; topography of, 212, 213; Court. \nHouse, 217 ; camps at, 245; Com \nmon, 245 et seq.; old burial-place \n276-280. \n\nCampbell, Colonel Archibald, 89 \nimprisoned at Concord, 382, 383. \n\nCapen, Hopestill, 426. \n\nCai-ter, Robert, 323. \n\nCartwright, Cuff\", 358. \n\nCipher of United States, origin of, 47. \n\nChanning, W. E., 200. \n\nChardon, Peter, 181. \n\nCharles River, named, 2; bridged, 3-5. \n\nCharles River Bridge, projected, 3 ; \nbuilt and opened, 4, 5 ; building \ncommittee, 6. \n\nCharlestown Lane, 357. \n\nCharlestown Ferry established and \ngranted to Harvard College, 5 ; ex- \nchange of prisoners at, 8, 9. \n\nCharlestowTi, topography and settle- \nment, 8 ; dispersion of inhabitants, \n8 j site of the \" Great House \" and \nfirst ordinary in, 9 ; old burial-place, \n11 ; distinguished citizens of, 10. \n\nChrist Church (Boston), bells of, 52. \n\nChrist Church (Cambridge), 273-276. \n\n\nCliurch, Dr. Benjamin, residence of, \n286; his treason, 287, 288. \n\nChelsea Bridge, built, 7. \n\nClaflin, William, residence of, 351. \n\nClaghorn, Colonel George, constructs \nfrigate Constitution, 29. \n\nClap, Preserved, 154. \n\nClarke, James Freeman, 352. \n\nClarice, Samuel, 352. \n\nClarke, Samuel C, 352. \n\nClark's House (Lexington), 36'4 ; occu- \npied by Hancock and Adams, 365. \n\nClark, Rev. Jonas, 363, 367. \n\nCleaveland, Colonel, 183. \n\nClinton, General Sir Henry, 80. \n\nCobble Hill (McLean Asylum), forti- \nfied, 172; prisoners on, 177; Bjvrrell's \npalace, 177; Insane Asylum, 178. \n\nCodpian, Captain John, murder of, \n169, 170. \n\nCoffin, John, at Bunker Hill, 57. \n\nColonial Army, early composition of, \n246 ; in 1 775, 247 - 254 ; location of \nregiments, 249 ; roster in Cambridge, \n250 ; flag of, 251, 252: punishments, \n252 ; uniform, 253, 254. \n\nCommittee of Safety, rendezvous of, \n257. \n\nConcord, 371-394; approach to, 372, \n373; topography in 1775, 380-383 ; \nOld Court House, 380 ; grist-mill \nand jail, 381 ; mill-pond, 383 ; Old \nHubbard House, 384 ; hill burial- \nground, 385 ; battle monument, 387 \n-389; named, 389; Old Manse, 389 \n-392; retreat from, 393, 394; Mer- \nriam's Corner, 393. \n\nConstitution, frigate, incident of her \nbuilding, 29, 30; cruise in the East \nIndies, 30; conflict with the Guer- \nriere, 32, 33 ; rebuilt in Charlestown, \n40; story of the figure-head, 41-44; \naction with the Java, 47 ; has the \nfirst made mast in our navy, 47 ; \nmemorials of, 50; lines to, 363. \n\nConvent of St. Ursula, 91 -95. \n\nConvention troops, march to Rutland, \n163; barracks at, described, 164 ; \nmarch to Virginia, 165 . \n\nCook, John, residence of, 348. \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\n435 \n\n\nCoolidge, Cliarles, 378. \n\nCoolidge, Joseph, 378. \n\nCopley, John S., works of, 225. \n\nCopper sheathing, origin of, 47. \n\nCox, Lemuel, builds Charles River \nBridge, 3, 4 ; sketch of, 6. \n\nCradock's Fort, 134. \n\nCradock, Governor Matthew, 134, 135, \n136; dies, 139. \n\nCraigie, Andrew, 179. \n\nCresap, Michael, 88. \n\nCurtis, George William, 379, 380. \n\nCushman, Charlotte, birthplace of, 22; \nanecdotes of early life, 22 ; first ap- \npearance in public, 22 ; studies for \nthe stage, 23; debut in London, 23, \n24 ; Cushman School, 25. \n\nD. \n\nDana Hill, 199 ; mansion, 200. \n\nDana, Judge Francis, 200. \n\nDana, Richard H., 200. \n\nDane, Nathan, 218, 219. \n\nDavis, Isaac, killed, 408. \n\nDavis, Judge John, residence of, 59. \n\nDawes, Major Thomas, 173. \n\nDaye, Stephen, 224. \n\nDearborn, General Henry, 105 ; at \nMonmouth, 106. \n\nDerby, George H., 380. \n\nDerby, Richard, 370. \n\nDewey, Samuel P., exploit with Con- \nstitution's figure-head, 41 - 44. \n\nDickerson, Mahlon, 43, 44. \n\nDickinson, Edward, 193. \n\nDirty Marsh, 27. \n\nDoncaster, England, night surprise at, \n12, 13. \n\nDorchester Heights, occupation of, pro- \nposed, 260, 261. \n\nDowner, Eliphalet, duel with the regu- \nlar, 399. \n\nDovraing, Sir George, 238. \n\nDudley, Thomas, residence of, 112. \n\nDuer, William, 303. \n\nDunster, Henry, 211. \n\nE. \n\nEdes, Benjamin, printing-office of, 347, \n348. \n\n\nEdes, Thomas, 19. \n\nEllsworth, Annie G., dictates first tel- \negraphic message, 21. \nEmerson, Rev. William, 389. \nEmerson, Ralph Waldo, 378, 379. \nEssex Bridge built, 6. \nEustis, William, 'burial-place of, 370. \nEverett, Edward, 11, 80, 210, 211. \n\n\nFayerweather, John, 414. \n\nFayerweather, Thomas, 316. \n\nFife, the, introduced into British army, \n\n248. \nFirst church (Cambridge), sites of, 211, \n\n212; Provincial Congi-ess sits in, 215. \nFlags of truce, methods of conducting \n\nbefore Boston, 86, 87. \nFlucker, Thomas, 63. \nFoot of the Rocks, 359. \nFox, Jabez, residence of, 256. \nEraser, Simon, 382. \nFresh Pond, 340; ice-traffic of, 344, 345. \nFuller, Abraham, 351. \nFuller, Joseph, 351. \nFuUer, John, 351. \nFuller, Sarah, 351. \nFuller, Sarah Margaret, birthplace of, \n\n192. \nFuneral customs, 331 - 333. \n\nG. \n\nGage, General Thomas, 8, 63, 356. \n\nGardiner, Rev. J. S. J., anecdote of, 18. \n\nGates, General Horatio, 104, 299. \n\nGergeroux, Marquis de, banquet to, 36. \n\nGerry, Elbridge, 317, 320. \n\nGerrymander, history of the, 320 - 322. \n\nGibbeting, instances of, 169, 170. \n\nGibbet in Middlesex, location of, 170. \n\nGibbs, Major Caleb, Washington's re- \nbuke of, 15, 27 ; commands Life \nGuard, 308. \n\nGilbert, John, birthplace of, 22. \n\nGlover, Colonel John, quarters of, 292- \n294. \n\nGookin, Daniel, 200. \n\nGordon, Rev. William, 347. \n\nGorham, Nathaniel, sketch of, 14-16, \n\n\n436 \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\nGraves, Samuel, 358. \n\nGraves, Thomas, 432. \n\nGreene, Catharine, Eli Whitney a pro- \ntege of, 152. \n\nGreene, General Natlianiel, Knox's \nopinion of, 149 ; camp on Prospect \nHill, 149 ; trial of Andre, 150 ; money \nembarrassments, 150, 151, 272. \n\nGreen, Samuel, 224. \n\nGridley, Colonel Richard, 187. \n\nH. \n\nHaldimand, General, 355. \n\nHamilton, Alexander, 300. \n\nHancock Frigate, armament of, 34. \n\nHancock, John, at Lexington, 365- \n370. \n\nHancock, Tliomas, 225, 368. \n\nHand, General Edward, 90. \n\nHarrington, Jonathan, 361. \n\nHanington, Daniel, 361. \n\nHarris, Lord George, at Bunker Hill, \n56, 57. \n\nHartt, Edmund, naval yard of, 27. \n\nHarvard College, Charlestown Ferry \ngranted to, 5; first observatory, 201 ; \nFellows' Orchard, 201; Gore Hall, \n201; College libraries, 201-206; \nPresident's hou'se, 206-212; Dane \nHall, 218; early, accounts, 221, 222, \n229; enclosures, 222; building and \nsites of old Halls, 223 ; College Press, \n223, 224; Massachusetts, 224, 225; \nPortrait Gallery, 225, 226; lotteries, \n226, 227; buildings used for bar- \nracks, 227; Harvard, 227,228; Hol- \nlis, 229; Holden Chapel, 229, 230; \nHolworthy, 230; University Hall, \n230; customs, 232, 233; clubs, 234; \nCommencement, 234, 235; dress of \nstudents, 235, 236; Oxford caps, \n\n237, 238; distinguished graduates, \n\n238. 239; historic associations, 240, \n. 241; outbreaks of students, 241, 242; \n\nAmerican -works, 243, 244 ; seal, 242. \n\nHarvard, John, 10; library and monu- \nment, 11. \n\nHastings, Jonathan, 256. \n\nHastings, Rebecca, 261. \n\nHastings, Walter, 256, 257. \n\n\nHawthorne, Nathaniel, residence in \nConcord, 373, 391. \n\nHenley, Colonel David, court-martial \nof, 160; sketch of, 161, 162. \n\nHessians, appearance of, 158; uniform \nand colors, 315, 316. \n\nHewes, Shubael, 271. \n\nHollis, Thomas, 226. \n\nHolmes, Abiel, 262. \n\nHolmes, 0. W., 254, 262. \n\nHopkins, Commander Ezekiel, per- \nsonal appearance of, 38. \n\nHoppin, Rev. Nicholas, 275. \n\nHosmer, Abner, 408; John, 381. \n\nHovey, C. M., 186. \n\nHoward, Caroline, 324. \n\nHoward, Samuel, 324. \n\nHowe, Lyman, 419. \n\nHudson, Frederick, 380. \n\nHudson, William, 12. \n\nHull, Commodore Isaac, described, 31, \n32; superintends docking the Con- \nstitution, 40. \n\nHull, General William, tomb of, 349 ; \nsketch of, 350-352. \n\nHumphreys, David, 300. \n\nHumphreys, Joshua, reports in favor of \nCharlestown as a naval station, 27. \n\nI. \n\nluman, Ralph, 187-189. \n\n\nJackson, Colonel Henry, 27; residence, \n\n348. \nJackson, Colonel Michael, 349. \nJaques, Samuel, 99. \nJones, Ephraim, 381, 382. \nJones, Commodore John Paul, hoists \n\nAmerican flag, 38. \nJoy, Benjamin, 178. \n\nK. \n\nKent, Duke of, 310, 311. \nKent, Judge William, 284. \nKeyes, George, 389. \nKeyes, John S., 392. \nKirkland, John T., 209, \n\n\nINDEX, \n\n\n437 \n\n\nKnight, Sarah, journey to New York \nin 1704, 423, 424. \n\nKuox, General Henry, 27, 56 ; book- \nstore of, 172 ; accident, 173 ; mar- \nriage, 174 ; at Trenton, 175; birth- \n■ place, 177, 187, 272, 275; residence, \n348. \n\nKuox, Lucy (Flucker), 173, 176, 177. \n\nKuox, William, 173. \n\n\nL. \n\n\nM. \n\n\nLafayette, Marquis, 303, 304. \nLardner, Dionysius, prediction of, 35. \nLechmere's Point, 179; British land at, \n180 ; access to, 180 ; fort on, 180 - \n184; e-xecutions at, 184. \nLechmere, Richard, 179. \nLechmere, Thomas, 179. \nLee, General Charles, annouuces his \narrival to the enemy, 85, 86; quar- \nters of, 129, 141 ; slcetch and anec- \ndotes of, 142-144; alleged treason, \n145 ; incidents of his capture, 146 ; \nsingular request and death, 147, 148' \n272. \nLee, Joseph, 316. \nLee, Colonel William R., 107, \nLeonard, Rev. Abiel, 191. \nLeverett, Governor John, serves with \n\nCromwell, 12; portrait of, 14. \nLexington, battle of. Prisoners of, ex- , \nchanged, 8, 9; Smith's march to, \n854-364; topography of the Com- \nmon, 360; meeting-house and belfry, \n360, 361 ; battle monument, 362, \n363; Clark House, 364-369; burial- \nground, 370; Fiske's Hill and the \nroad to Concord, 371 ; Smith's junc- \ntion with Percy, and the retreat, \n395, 396. \nLightning conductors first applied to \n\nvessels, 47. \nLinzee, Captam John, 188, 189. \nLongfellow, H. W., description of his \n\nresidence, 290, 312. \nLong, Samuel, innkeeper, 9. \nLowell, Rev. Charles, 317, 322. \nLowell, James Russell, 317 ; home of \n\n318, 323, 324. \nLurvey, James, 258. \n\n\nMagoun, Thatcher, 41. \n\nMaiden Bridge, built, 6, 83. \n\nMallet, Andrew, 110. \n\nMaUet, John, 110. \n\nMallet, Michael, 110. \n\nMartin, Michael, career and execution \n\nof, 97, 184, 185. \nMason, David, 174, 183. \nMather, Increase, 211. \nMcLean Asylum, 172. \nMcLean, John, 172. \n\nMassachusetts Bay divided into shires \n7. ' \n\nMass. Horticultural Society, 337, 338 \n\nMerrimac Frigate, launch and history \nof, 45, 46. ^ \n\nMiddlesex Canal, 81, 82. \n\nMiddlesex County formed, 7. \n\nMifflin, Thomas, residence of, 282, 283 \n300. ' ' \n\nMilitary roads in 1775, 83, 84. \n\nMiller's River (Willis's Creek), 179, 180 \n\nMobneux, William, Jr., 422. \n\nMoncrieff, Major, officiates \"at an ex- \nchange of prisoners, 8, 9. \n\nMonmouth, battle of, incidents of, 106 \n163. \n\nMorgan, General Daniel, account of \n\nI his corps, 87 - 90. \n\nI Morse, Samuel F. B., birthplace of, 19; \nfirst attempts at paintmg, 20 ; con- \nception of the telegraph, 20 ; first \nline and message, 21. \n\nMorse, Jedediah, 16-18; residence, 19 \n\nMoulton's Point (Moreton's or Mor- \nton's), British landing-place at bat- \ntle of Bimker Hill, 27; fortified, 28 \n\nMount Auburn, 326-340; the Tower, \n329; the Chapel and statuary, 335- \n337;. origin of, 337, 338. \n\nMount Pisgah. See Prospect Hill \n\nMurray, Samuel, 357. \n\n\nN. \n\n\nNapoleon I., his opinion of American \n\nsailors, 46. \nNavy Yard, Charlestown, 26-51; first \n\nGovernment yards, 27 ; history of \n\n\n438 \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\nCharlestown purchase, 27; surround- \nings, 28 ; commanders of, 29 - 33 ; \nthe park of artillery, 33 ; compared \n•with Woolwich, 34 ; dry dock, 40 ; \nfamous vessels huilt at, 44 - 46 ; \nlanding of Sir William Howe, 48, 49 ; \narea, cost, and original proprietors, \n49, 50 ; Naval Institute and tro- \nphies, 50. \n\nNelson, Hoi'atio, noble conduct of, 37. \n\nNewmau, Robert, 354. \n\nNewton, celebrities of, 348 - 353. \n\nNicholson, Commodore Samuel, com- \nmands Charlestown Yard, 29; col- \nlision with Claghom, 29, 30 ; death \nand burial, 30. \n\nNight watch, customs of, 9, 10. \n\nNix's Mate, 170. \n\nNoddle's Island (East Boston), 27. \n\nNonantum Hill, 352, 353. \n\n\nOld Manse (Concord), 389-392. \n\nOld South Church (Boston), 183 ; \n\nW^ashiugton's visit to, 271, 272. \nOld Wayside Mill. See Powder House. \nOliver, Thomas, 318, 319. \nOtis, James, 336. \n\n\nParker, Isaac, 218. \n\nParker, Theodore, birthplace of, 361. \n\nParker, John, 361, 409. \n\nParker, Rev. Samuel, 274, 275. \n\nParkman, Samuel, 379, 427. \n\nPearson, Eliphalet, 262. \n\nPercival, Captain John, 30. \n\nPercy, Hugh, Earl, march to and re- \ntreat from Lexington, 395 - 405. \n\nPenny Ferry, 83. \n\nPere la Chaise, Mount Auburn com- \npared with, 329, 334. \n\nPhillips, Rev. George, 346, 347. \n\nPhillips, General William, 165. \n\nPhips, David, mansion, etc., 200. \n\nPhips's Point. See Lechmere's. \n\nPierce, Josiah, Jr., 426. \n\nPierce, George W., 431. \n\nPierce, Joseph, 173. \n\nPigot, General Robert, 5, \n\n\nPitcaim, Major John, at Lexington, \n357 - 359, 381, 382. \n\nPlowed Hill (Mt. Benedict), fortifica- \ntions described, 84, 85; convent on, \nburnt, 92, 93. \n\nPoraeroy, Colonel Seth, at Bunker \nHill, 60, 6]. \n\nPontefract Castle, England, capture \nand siege of, 12. \n\nPowder House, history and description \nof, 110-112; legend of, 115. \n\nPrentice, Captain Thomas, 348. \n\nPrescott, Colonel William, 60-62. \n\nProspect Hill, occupied by Putnam, \n62; fortifications, 148 ; 'vestiges of, \n148, 149, 166, 167 ; garrison of, 149; \ndescription of camps and flag-raising \non, 156, 157 ; Burgoyue's troops en- \ncamped on, 157 ; description of their \nbarracks, 159; collision between \nprisoners and guards, 160. \n\nPutnam, General Israel, conducts an \nexchange of prisoners, 8, 9 ; at Bun- \nker Hill, 60 - 62 ; quarters and \nsketches of, 189 - 192, 197, 272. \n\nPutnam, Colonel Rufus, anecdote of, \n108. \n\nQ. \n\nQuarry HUl, 113. \n\nQuincy, Dorothy, 366. \n\nQumcy, Eliza S., 206, 210. \n\nQuincy, Josiah, 210. \n\nQuincy, Samuel, residence of, 59. \n\nR. \n\nRainsborrow, General William, ser- \nvices imder Cromwell, 12 ; killed, 13. \n\nRale, Sebastian, 205. \n\nRawdon, Francis, Lord, at Bunker \nHill, 57. \n\nReed, Joseph, 299. \n\nRevere, Paul, prints Colony notes, \n348; night ride to Lexington, 354, \n357, 367. \n\nRice, Reuben, 381. \n\nRipley, Rev. Ezra, 388, 391. \n\nRivington, James, anecdote of, 55. \n\nRiedesel, Baron von, 107^ 314 r 316, \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\n439 \n\n\nRoyal Artillery, 112, 183, 395. \nRolfe, Benjamin, 429. \nRoyall, Isaac, 120, 123, 124, 218. \nRoyall, William, 122. \nRoyall, Samuel, 123. \nRoyall, Penelope, 124. \nRuggles, Timothy, 165. \nRuggles, Captain George, 316. \nRussell, Thomas, 309, 310. \nRussell, Jason, 402. \n\n\nS. \n\n\nT. \n\n\nSaltonstall, Sir Richard, 317. \n\nScammell, Alexander, 101. \n\nSedgwick, General Robert, serves under \n\nCromwell, 12 ; death, 14. \nSerjeant, Rev. Winwood, 274. \nSeventy-first Highlanders, organization \n\nof, 382. \nSewall, Jonathan, 313, 314. \nSibley, John L., 205. \nSmall, General John, anecdote of, 59. \nSmith, Captain John, names Charles \nRiver, 2 ; New England, 3 ; his \ntomb, 3. \nSmith, Lieutenant-Colonel, lands at \n\nLechmere's Point, 356. \nSparks, Jared, 311. \nSpooner, Bathsheba, 165, 166. \nSpooner, Joshua, 166. \nStark, General John, at Bunker Hill, \n56, 60, 70 ; quarters at Medford, and \nsketch of, 125, 126, 272. \nStirling, Alexander, Lord, 303. \nStirling, Lady Kitty, 303. \nStone, John, architect of Charles River \n\nBridge, 4. \nStory, Joseph, 219; home of, 283 \n\nhabits of, 284, 337. \nStory, W. W., birthplace of, 284, 337 \nStoughton, Israel, 12. \nStow, Cyrus, 383. \nStratton, John, 318. \nSudbury, Green HiU, 410 ; Nobscot, \n410; King Philip's attack, 416, 417 • \nNoyes Mill, 417. ' \n\nSullivan, General John, 84; quarters \nof, 98, 129; his camp, 101, 102 • \nsketch of, 102, 103. \n19* \n\n\nTalleyrand (Prince of Ponte Corvo) \n310. \" \n\nTaverns. The Sun, 71 ; Anna Whitte- \nmore's (Charlestown), 83; Billings's \n(Medford), 126, 132; Fountain (Med- \nford), 132; Conestoga Wagon (Phila- \ndelphia),148; Bradish's (Cambridge), \n158, 213, 214, Richardson's (Water- \ntown), 345, 346; Coolidge's, 348; \nDavenport's (Cambridge), 357 ; Black \nHorse (Arlington), 357 ; Tufts's, \n357 ; Buckmau's (Lexington), 361 ; \nWright's (Concord), 380; Richard- \nson's, 381: Bigelow's (Concord), 381; \nHeywood's, 383, 385; Jones's, 381; \nMuni-oe's (Lexington), 396. \nTemple, Robert, residence and account \n\nof, 96, 97. \nTen-Hills Farm, account of, 95 - 99. \nTliompson, Benjamin (Count Rum- \nford), 425-432. \nThompson, General William, 89. \nThoreau, Henry D., 379, 380. \nTidd, Jacob, 129. \nTilghman, Tench, 300. \nTilghman, Lloyd, 300. \nTracy, Nathaniel, 308, 309. \nTrescott, Lemuel, 173, 427. \nTrenton, battle of, 109 ; council of war \n\nbefore, 126 ; incident of, 175. \nTrowbridge, Jolm T., 403. \nTrowbridge, Judge, home of, 280. \nTrumbull, John, 299. \nTudor, Frederick, 345. \nTudor, Colonel William, 151 ; anec- \ndotes of, 162. \nTudor, William, Jr., 74, 338. \nTuckerman, Edward, 284. \nTufts, Nathan, 113. \nTufts, Oliver, 141. \nTurner, Job, 40. \nTwo Cranes, Charlestown, 9. \nTwo-Peuny Brook, 113. \n\n\nVanderlyn, John, anecdote of, 105. \nVassall, Colonel Henry, 125. \nVassall, John, Sr., 286, 292. \n\n\n440 \n\n\nINDEX. \n\n\nW. \n\nWadswoi-th, Captain Samuel, killed, \n414, 415. \n\nWapping, 28. \n\nWard, General Artem as, 61; headquar- \nters, 258 ; incident of Shays's Re- \nbellion, 259, 260. \n\nWard, Josei^h, 349. \n\nWan-en, Joseph, conducts an exchange \nof prisoners, 8 ; at Bunker Hill, 60, \n61, 261 ; death, 72 ; statue of, 77. \n\nWashington Elm, 267. \n\nWashington, General George, collision \nwith Hancock on a point of etiquette, \n15, 70, 71 ; leave-taking of his officers, \n174, 208 ; first headquarters in Cam- \nbridge, 262 ; events in life of, 271, \n272 ; headquarters, 289 - 308 ; per- \nsonal description of, 296; Continental \nuniform, 297 ; his staff, 299, 300 ; at \nMonmouth, 301 ; anecdotes of, 301, \n302 ; habits of, 306 ; his body-guard, \n307, 308. \n\nWashington, Lady, 305. \n\nWaterhouse, Benjamin, 264. \n\nWaters, Captain Josiah, 187. \n\nWaterto\\vn meeting-houses, 347 ; \nBridge, 347, 348 ; burial-groimds, \n346, 347. \n\nWayside Inn (Sudbury), 420-425. \n\nWells, William, 317. \n\nWesson, Colonel James, 162, 163. \n\n\nWest Church (Boston), anecdote of, \n\n322. \nWest Boston Bridge, built, 4, 5. \nWheeler, Captain Timothy, ruse of at \n\nConcord, 384. \nWhitcomb, Colonel Asa, anecdote of, \n\n156. \nWhitefield's Elm, 268. \nWilder, Marshall P., 339. \nWilkinson, General James, account of \n\nBunker Hill battle, 70; duel with \n\nGates, 104. \nWillard, Joseph, 209. \nWillard, Samuel, 211. \nWillard, Solomon, architect of Bunker \n\nHill Monument, 75, 79, 80. \nWilliams, General Otho H., 88. \nWindmUl Hill (Cambridge), 284. \nWinter Hill, fortified and garrisoned, \n\n100-102; Gennan encampment on, \n\n106, 107. \nWinthrop, Mrs. Hannah, 359, 360. \nWinthrop, Governor John, 95, 96 ; \n\nstatue, 336 ; William, 200. \nWoolrich, John, 244. \nWorcester, Joseph E., 312. \nWyeth, Nathaniel J., his trip to the \n\nPacific, 341-344. \nWyman, Rufus, M. D., 178. \n\n\nYankee, origin of the word, 256. \nYankee Doodle, 397. \n\n\nTHE END. \n\n\nTHE WRITINGS OF SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE. \n\n\nOld Landmarks and Historic Persojn-- \nages of Boston, \n\nOne Volume. Square l2mo. 100 Illustrations. Price $2.00l \n\n\nOld La7idmarks and Historic Fields \n\nof Middlesex, \n\nOne Volume. Square l2mo. Fully Illustrated. Price $2.00. \n\n♦ \n\n\"Your Old Landmarks of Boston is a perfect storeiiouse of information.\" — \nHenry W. Longfellow. \n\n\"I am simply amazed at the e.\\tent and accuracy of its information.\" — John \nG. Palfrey. \n\n\" Historic Fields and Mansions of IVIiddlese.x is a book after my own heart.\" — \nBenson J . Lossing. \n\n\nSold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paia, on 7-eceipt of price, by \nthe Publishers., \n\n\nriiK WRITINGS OF SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE. \n\n\nAROUND THE HUB. \n\n\nA BOY'S BOOK ABOUT BOSTON. \n\n\n- - — ) ■ m \n\n\nn-taa^ \n\n\nBoston i.\\ i7';1. \n\n\"Of the books on Boston, Mr. Samuel Drake's 'Around the Hub' is \nmuch the best. The author has written a boolv about Boston — Boston in \nthe old time — for boys. From the days when — as the second chapter has it \n— 'the Puritans hung up their hats ' in the then small town of Shawmut, down \nto its expansion into the Boston of a hundred years ago, they were stirring \ntimes, indeed. Mr. Drake tells how the first settlers in Boston managed to \nsettle with their Indian neighbors. He draws for us graphically accurate \npictures of the old Puritan homes and customs. Then we get to the time \nwhen the withdrawal of the King's Charter caused the Bostonians to rise in \narms, and how sturdily they stuck to their rights is told in a style that quite \nsecures one's sympathies. The history of the American struggle for inde- \npendence could not be written without the men of Boston well in the fore- \nground, and as the narrative progresses, we are taken through the thick of \nthe moral and actual fighting until the famous chapter of history gains a new \nreality from the vivid style of the narrator. Although some parts of the \nbook make an Englishman wince, it is just the sort of historic story-telling \n'CO do boys real good. Capital illustrations are scattered through the volume, \nincreasing the realism of the old-time scenes so well depicted.\" — T/u \nLondon Bookseller. \n\n\nOne volume. Square lamo. Illustrated. Price, $1.25. \n\n« \n\nSold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, \nby the Publishers, \n\nLITTLE, BROWN & Co. \n\n254 Washington St., Boston. \n\n\nNEW ENGLAND LEGENDS # FOLK LORE. \n\nBy SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE, \n\n/luihor of \" Old Landmarks of ' Boston ' and ' Middlesex,^ \" \n\"Around the Hub,\" etc. \n\nOne volume, 12iiio, clotli, illustrated. Price, $2.00. \n\n\nTHIS volume brings together, for the first time, tlie scattered Legendary and Folk Lore \nof New England. No subject is so tliorouglily fascinating as this is, while very few \nindeed afford materials at once so rich, so varied, and so picturesque. It is confi- \ndently believed that every one who sees how fertile is the field the author's research has \nopened, will now wonder why such a work was not long ago undertaken. \n\nThe collection, preservation, and effective presentation of the Legendary Tales of New \nEngland is then the purpose of this book; and that purpose presupposes a work of per- \nmanent interest and value. \n\nFor a work of this character no man is better qualified than Mr. Samuel Adams \nDrake, the author who has already a high rejiutation as a writer of History, Biography, \nand Travel, and who is thoroughli' .t home in any and every phase of Old New England \nLife. His \"Old Landmarks of Boston,\" his \" Nooks and Corners of the New England \nCoast,\" are unique works of their kind, to which his \" New England Legends \" will un- \nquestionably be the appropriate companion and claimant for public favor. \n\nHaving diligently searched out the origin of the Legendary Tales that compose this \nvolume, Mr. Drake's method has been to rewrite them in an entertaining manner for his \nreaders of to-day ; and as some of these pieces have been the theme of poetry and romance, \nhe has placed the prose and pnetic versions side bv side, in order that the thousands to \nwhom \"The Scarlet Letter,\" \"The Buccaneer,\" or \"The Skeleton in Armor\" are as \nfamiliar as household vvords, may have as ready access to the truth as hitherto they have \nhad to the romance of history. \n\nIn this way many of the poetical gems of such authors as Longfellow, Whittier, Holnies, \nDana, Lowell, Brainard, Sigourney, and others, are newly interpreted for the public, besides \ngoing to enrich the collection. Motley, Hawthorne, Sir Walter Sc^tt, Austin, the Mathers, \n— whoever in fact may have drawn upon this subject for inspiration, — are quoted for its \nillustration. \n\nThe popular superstitions of our ancestors, which included a firm belief in Witchcraft, \nin the Special Providences of God, and in the Manifestations of the Invisible Wor'd, — \nnot to speak of Omens, Charms, and the like, — are an unfailing source of interest to our \nage. Mr. Drake shows us what those beliefs were, and in what way they worked for good \nor evil, as moral or physical agents, and so moulded the history of the times. Although \nthey possess all the charm of romance, these stories are really the sober record of the start- \nling or marvellous occurrences that they narrate. One cannot rise from a perusal of this \nmost fascinating book without saying, \" I now know what kind of meii and women the \nfounders of New England really were. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction ! \" \n\n\nLITTLE, BROWN & Co. \n\n254 Washington St., Boston. \n\n\nThis book is a preservation photocopy. \n\nIt is made in compliance with copyright law \n\nand produced on acid-free archival \n\n60# book weight paper \n\nwhich meets the requirements of \n\nANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper) \n\nPreservation photocopying and binding \n\nby \n\nAcme Bookbinding \n\nCharlestown, Massachusetts \n\n\n2003 \n\n\nBOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY \n\n\n3 9999 04988 659 9 \n\n\n","title":"Historic Mansions and Highways around Boston","updated_at":"2026-09-05T09:48:51.400644Z","urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:historic-mansions-and-highways-around-boston","version":1,"withdrawn_reason":null},"urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:historic-mansions-and-highways-around-boston","version_history":[{"change_note":"accessioned from the Internet Archive, item historicmansions00drak","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-05T09:48:51.706194Z","version":1}]}