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A public-domain text about Boston, accessioned whole so the archive can quote it.","text_extract":"F  73 \n.4 \n\n.B63 \nCopy  2 \n\n\n1?  racfistofie \n\n\nJSoston's   iFftst   Xtiijatittnttt \n\n\ny,^ \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE \n\n\nBci0toti'0   jfiv^t   jJuljaiittant \n\n\nJ-iMTyy \n\n\nx-oJi^ \n\n\n•      • \n\n\n1^7-73 \n\n\n-'H^  'U  . \n\n\n)-73 \n\n\nCopyright,  1877. \n\nRockwell    &    Churchill, \n\nBoston. \n\n\n^AR    2\"    1^'^^ \n\n\n» •  • \n\n\nRockwell  &   Churchill,  Printers,  39  Atch  Street,  Boston. \n\n\nTO \n\n\nEJje  ©Iti  Soutl}  JHtettng  l^ouse: \n\nONE      OF     THE      FEW      REMAINING      MONUMENTS      OF      OUR \nPROVINCIAL    PERIOD,     OF    EVENTS    AND    MEN     THAT \nHELPED      TO      ESTABLISH      OUR      NATIONAL \nINDEPENDENCE    AND    FREE     INSTITU- \nTIONS,     THIS      TRIBUTE      TO \nTHE      MEMORY     OF \n\nWilliam     Blackstone, \n\nTHE    EARLIEST    INHABITANT    OF    BOSTON,    WHO    ALSO \nLOVED     LIBERTY,     CIVIL     AND     RELIGIOUS,     IS \n\n\nlaespcctMlg  BttJicateti. \n\n\nESTO    PERPETUA.\" \n\n\nWh/IT  is  K[(OWf(  OF  BLACKSTOf, \n\n\nFor  several  jears  previous  to  the  first  settlement  of  Boston, \nin  September,  1630,  William  Blackstone,  its  earliest  European \ninhabitant,  occupied  bj  himself  what  formed  for  long  after- \nwards the  principal  part  of  it,  and  which  was  then  known  as \nShawmut.  It  comprised  an  area  of  about  eight  hundred \nacres,  since  more  than  doubled  by  accessions  from  the  sea \nthat  surrounded  it,  the  whole,  with  much  besides  annexed  to \nour  city  from  the  country  round  about,  noAv  crowded  with \npopulation.  Blackstone,  a  man  of  learning,  an  ordained  min- \nister of  the  Church  of  England,  and,  consequently,  a  graduate \nof  one  of  its  universities,  unwilling  to  conform  to  ecclesiastical \nrequirements  which  his  conscience  disapproved,  had  come  to \nAmerica  \"  to  get  from  under  the  power  of  the  lords  bishops.\" \nHere  he  dwelt,  solitary  and  alone,  raising  his  apples  and  roses, \nand  reading  his  books,  of  which  he  had  a  plentiful  supply. \n\nHis  solitude  was  unpleasantly  disturbed  in  the  summer  of \n1630  by  the  arrival  at  Charlestown,  across  the  river,  of  Win- \nthrop  and  his  company,  under  their  patent  of  March  4,  1629. \nTheir  lives  in  peril  from  disease  engendered  by  exposure  and \nprivation,  and  aggravated  by'the  impurity  of  the  water,  he \ngenerously  invited  them  over  to  share  with  him  the  more \nsalubrious  spot  he  inhabited,  and  which  abounded  in  springs. \n\nCheerfully  yielding  up  to  them  the  greater  part  of  his \npossessions,  he  was  contented  himself  to  retain  fifty  acres, \nand  six  more  adjacent,  whereon  stood  his  house.  Our  story \nintimates  hoAV  it  chanced  that,  a  few  years  afterwards,  \"find- \ning he  had  fallen  under  the  power  of  the  lords  brethren,\"  he \nsurrendered  the  larger  lot  and  all  his  rights  within  the  then \nnarrow  neck  of  land  conneaing  the  peninsula  with  Roxbury, \n\n\nWILLIAM    BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nexcept  his  six  acres.  He  received  six  shillings  from  each \nhouseholder,  and,  in  some  instances,  larger  sums  in  volun- \ntary contributions,  for  this  release.  It  has  been  said  that  he \ndisclaimed  any  other  title  but  that  of  first  discoverer  and  occu- \npant, but  this  payment  shows  that  the  colonists  considered \nthat  title  to  some  extent,  at  least,  valid  or  equitable.  In  1623, \nthe  Council  of  New  England  had  patented  to  Robert  Gorges \nten  miles  along  the  north-east  shore  of  Massachusetts  Bay, \nby  thirty  inland,  with  all  islands,  not  previously  granted, \nwithin  three  miles  of  the  main  land.  Walford,  at  Charles- \ntown  ;  Maverick,  on  what  is  now  East  Boston ;  Thompson, \nwho  died  in  1628,  on  the  island  that  still  bears  his  name ; \nBlackstone,  at  Shawm^ut,  are  supposed  to  have  held  under  this \npatent,  and  been  pioneers  of  a  projected  plantation. \n\nSir  Ferdinando  Gorges  had  received  large  grants  from  the \nCouncil  farther  north ;  and,  interested  in  the  speedy  coloniza- \ntion of  the  country,  caused  his  son  Robert  to  surrender  his \npatent,  and  another  issued,  vesting  in  Winthrop  and  his \nassociates  what  it  covered,  with  the  rest  of  Massachusetts, \noutside  the  limits  of  Plymouth,  to  the  western  sea.  John \nBlackstone,  a  inember  of  Parliament,  appears  to  have  taken \nan  active  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  infant  plantations.  As \none  of  a  parliainentary  committee,  in  1642,  he  invited  Cotton, \nHooker,  and  Davenport  to  come  over  for  consultation  upon \nthe  general  condition  of  the  realm.  As  one  of  the  Council,  he \njoined  in  a  power  to  William  Blackstone  to  deliver  seisin  under \none  of  its  patents.  No  consanguinity  is  known  between  John \nand  William ;  but  their  bearing  the  same  name  justifies  the \nconjecture  that  such  existed ;  that  our  first  settler  did  adl- \nually  possess  claims  entitled  to  compensation  for  their  relin- \nquishment; and  that  John's  position  in  the  Council  may  have \nled  William  to  take  up  his  residence  in  New  England,  when \nconstrained  by  conscience  to  abandon  the  Church. \n\nWhereabouts,  precisely,  on  the  peninsula  was  his  dwell- \ning-place has  long  puzzled  our  historians.  An  early  authority \n(Lechford)   speaks  of  his  residing  on  Blackstone's  Point,  on \n\n\nWILLIAM    BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n7 \n\n\nCambridge  Bay,  opposite  the  mouth  of  Charles  River.  It \nseems  not  to  have  occurred  to  Shaw,  Snow,  Drake,  and  Shurt- \nleff  that  his  name  might  attach  at  that  period  to  all  Shawmut ; \nand,  regarding  Barton's  Point  as  what  was  intended,  they \nlocated  his  house  variously  on  Poplar  or  Cambridge  streets \nor  a  mile  away  in  the  vicinity  of  Charlestown  Bridge.  The \npublication  of  Odlin's  deposition,  dated  June  lo,  1684,  re- \ncorded with  Suffolk  Deeds,  26-84,  ^s  to  Blackstone's  release, \ndiscouraged  the  hope  that  further  information  might  be \ngleaned  by  examination  of  these  ancient  volumes.  The  cor- \nrespondence in  area  of  the  lot  reserved  by  Blackstone,  or \nassigned  to  him  in  1631,  and  that  appropriated  soon  after  his \nsurrender  as  a  common  and  training-field,  and  of  his  six-acre \nlot  to  that  conveyed  by  Copley  to  Harrison  Gray  Otis  and \nJonathan  Mason,  in  1791,  long  since  led  the  present  writer  to \nthe  conclusion  that  our  beautiful  Common  was  no  other  than \nhis  park  and  pasture ;  that  his  orchard  lay  close  by,  and \nwas  substantially  the  same  laid  down  as  Bannister's  gardens, \non  Burgiss'  map  of  1728,  and  that  his  house  stood  on  the \nground  bounded  by  Beacon,  Walnut,  and  Spruce  streets,  near \nto  which  latter  street  the  sea  then  ebbed  and  flowed. \n\nUnder  the  impression  that  his  connedlion  with  our  early \nhistory  was  too  interesting  an  episode  not  to  be  kept  in  mind, \nthe  subjea  shaped  itself  into  the  present  form;  and  whilst \nthus  engaged,  another  effort  was  made  to  procure,  if  possible, \nsuch  additional  light  as  the  Suftblk  Registry  afforded.  No \nconveyance  is  there  believed  to  be  recorded  of  the  six-acre \nJot  before  1719,  when  Bannister  mortgaged  it,  then  eight \nacres,  for  two  hundred  pounds.  But  by  the  help  of  the  last \npublication  of  the  Record  Commission,  and  Classified  Index \nto  Deeds  prior  to  1800,  the  deposition  of  Mrs.  Ann  Pollard, \nthe  first  of  Winthrop's  company,  as  mentioned  in  the  text,  to \nleap  ashore  upon  the  peninsula,  and  who  lived  till  1725,  when \nshe  had  reached  the  age  of  one  hundred  and  five,  stood \nrevealed.  Strange  to  say,  it  was  upon  the  same  page  as  that \nof  Odlin,  so  much  better  known.    It  states  that  Blackstone  sold \n\n\nWILLIAM    BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nhis  homestead  to  Richard  Pepys,  who  built  a  house  on  the \nland,  of  which  her  husband  was  the  tenant,  and  possibly \nPepys  may  have  occupied  another  himself  on  the  property. \nWhen  Copley  conveyed  it,  in  1791,  two  ancient  houses  stood \nupon  the  estate,  in  one  of  which  he  painted  many  of  his  ad- \nmirable portraits,  and  there  his  distinguished  son,  Lord \nChancellor  Lyndhurst,  was  born. \n\nThe  area  then  actually  passing  came  nearer  to  twenty \nacres  than  six,  the  ordinance  of  1647  giving  proprietors  of  the \nupland  one  hundred  rods  below  high-water  mark. \n\nPepys  may  have  gone  home  at  the  restoration  of  the  mon- \narchy, or  earlier.  We  do  not  know  that  he  was  not  the  same \nRichard  Pepys,  cousin  of  Samuel,  the  entertaining  diarist, \nand  the  Irish  judge  of  1664,  from  whom  Lord  Cottenham, \nchancellor  in  1836-41,  and  a  successor  of  Lyndhurst,  de- \nscended. It  would  be  agreeable  to  trace,  in  addition  to \nthose  associations  of  great  legal  luminaries  with  the  spot,  yet \nanother  of  the  kind,  and  discover  that  our  Blackstone  was \nof  the  same  family  as  his  namesake,  Sir  William,  the  dis- \ntinguished commentator  on  the  Laws  of  England,  whose \nvolumes  never  grow  old  and  are  ever  pleasant  to  read,  and \nwho  was  born  in  London,  son  of  Charles,  in  1723,  and  died \nin  1780.  The  son  of  our  William  *had  sons,  one  of  whom,  a \nlieutenant,  fell  at  the  siege  of  Louisburg,  in  1746.  The  only \npromising  clue  to  the  parentage  and  birthplace  of  our  first \ninhabitant  is  a  power,  in  1653,  of  Sarah  Blackstone  (Suffolk \nDeeds)  to  collect  money  advanced,  in  which  she  is  described \nas  of  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  and  which  mentions  the  name  of \nStevenson,  that  of  the  first  husband  of  Blackstone's  wife. \n\nIn  1638  the  authorities  granted  Blackstone  fifteen  acres  at \nMuddy  Brook,  now  Brookline,  then  a  part  of  the  town  of  Boston. \nHe  may  have  continued  still  a  freeholder,  possibly  not  have \nsold  his  estate,  but  it  is  generally  presumed  that  he  left  with \nhis  cattle  and  books  for  Rehoboth  in  the  spring  of  1635.  In \na  house  he  called  Study  Hall,  a  few  rods  from  the  river \nnow  bearing  his   name,  on  the  declivity  of  what   he   called \n\n\nWIL  L/A^r    BLA  CKS  TONE. \n\n\n9 \n\n\nStudy  Hill,  about  sixty  feet  in  elevation,  he  resided  the  rest ' \nof  his  days.  Miantonimo,  nephew  of  Canonicus,  V\\x\\^  of  the \nNarragansetts,  Ocamsequin  or  Massasoit,  king  of  Wampa- \nnoags,  were  his  friends,  as  also  their  sons  Canonchet  and  king \nPhilip,  and  his  influence  may  have,  during  his  life,  averted \nthe  calamity  of  Indian  hostilities  which  broke  out  soon  after \nhis  death.  That  event  took  place  May  26,  1675,  when  he  had \nreached  the  age  of  fourscore. \n\nHe  occasionally  visited  Boston  ancl  Providence,  and  preached \n^in  the  latter  place,  and  at  Boston,  in  1659,  before  Gov.  Endi- \ncott,  inarried  Mrs.  Sarah  Stevenson,  widow  of  John,  who  died \nin  June,  1673.  His  only  child,  John,  sold  the  two  hundred \nacres  at  Rehoboth,  in  1693,  to  the  Whipples,  who  very  recently \nowned  thein.  The  house,  barns,  and  books  —  nearly  two  hun- \ndred in  number,  quartos  and  folios,  and' some  Latin  —  were \nburnt  by  the  Indians  in  1676,  one  of  their  few  vi(5lories  having \nbeen  gained  not  far  from  Study  Hill.  In  the  conflagration  of \nhis  house  perished  his  manuscript  volumes  and  other  papers, \nvery  possibly  of  great  interest.  His  grave,  near  the  site  of  his \ndwelling,  may  be  still  marked  by  stones  at  the  head  and  foot; \nbut  he  should  have  appropriate  monuments  raised  to  his \nmemory  both  there  and  here. \n\nIf  to  be  deplored  that  our  first  inhabitant  did  not  leave  his \nown  monuments  in  word  and  deed,  if  his  life  coursed  on  and \nleft  no  waif  behind  it,  there  is  much  in  his  charadler  and  career \nfor  respectful  admiration.  Conscientious,  noble,  and  gener- \nous, his  intelledlual  pursuits,  love  of  nature,  cultivation  of \nthe  earth,  and  subjedlion  of  the  lords  of  the  pasture  to  his \nbidding,  his  courage  and  faith  strike  sympathetic  chords. \nNor. should  his  preference  of  seclusion  to  the  busy  world  be \ncondemned  without  remembering  what  that  world  was  which \nhe  abandoned.  A  self-complacent,  perfidious  tyrant  on  the \nthrone,  besotted  with  indulgence,  merciless  from  impunity, \nrobbing  his  subjeas  to  enrich  favorites  that  imprisoned  or \nbeheaded,  or  worse,  at  their  will  or  his  own ;  a  people  that \ntamely  submitted  ;  a  Church  of  rite  and  dogma  without  Christi- \n\n\nlO \n\n\nWILLIAM    BLACKS  TONE. \n\n\nanity,  — from  this  seething  caldron  of  corruption  emerged  later \nthe  furies  of  retribution ;  and  minister,  primate,  and  another \nking,  his  son,  quite  as  arbitrary,  went  to  the  block.  No  marvel \nthat  the  howl  of  the  Avild  beast  of  the  forest  and  the  yell  of  the \nsavage  lost  their  terrors ;  or  that  the  good  seed  separated \nfrom  the  chaff  and  came  here  to  plant.  The  recluse,  grown \nsensitive  to  rude  contact  with  his  kind,  strove  in  vain  to  con- \nquer his  repugnance  and  become  as  other  men.  He  negledled \nno  opportunity  to  do  them  service,  but  valued  too  highly  his \nown  independence  to  submit  to  their  di6lation.  Circum- \nstance and  Providence  had  circumscribed  his  paths,  and  he \nhad  not  the  motive  and,  perhaps,  not  the  strength  to  open \nothers  for  himself. \n\n\nWILLIAM    BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nIGH  on  an  eminence  he  stood, \nHis  thoughts  beyond  the  sea, \nFor  he  had  left  his  native  land \n\nThat  he  might  here  be  free,  — \nFree  from  the  thrall  of  unjust  laws, \n\nFar  from  a  despot  king, \nPrelates  whose  haughty  will  would  all \n\nTo  Hke  subjedion  bring. \nToo  true  and  honest  to  accept \n\nWhat  conscience  disapproved, \nIts  dictates  he  obeyed,  and  left \n\nAll  that  at  home  he  loved. \nIf  his  from  all  the  world  to  choose, \n\nSurely  no  lovelier  spot \nThan  where  our  three-hilled  city  stands \n\nTo  dwell,  all  else  forgot. \nThe  sylvan  scene  around,  beneath, \n\nHe  claimed  it  as  his  own. \nNor  cared,  w^iile  Providence  prote6ls, \n\nThat  he  was  there  alone. \n\nNot  quite  alone  ;  the  curling  smoke  — \nNear  hills  like  smoke  in  hue  — \n\nMarked  where  a  noble  sachem  dwelt, \nHe  found  both  kind  and  true. \n\n\n12 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nSave  him,  and  one  across  the  bay, \n\nOne,  whose  island  home  lay  near, \nHe  lived  a  solitary  man. \n\nNo  kindred  soul  to  cheer. \nNor  had  he  need  ;   his  well-stored  mind. \n\nBooks  rich  w^ith  precious  lore, \nHis  sea-girt  home  of  hill  and  dale, \n\nHe  asked  from  Heaven  no  more. \nWhatever  worth  his  while  to  know, \n\nOr  Old  World  could  impart. \nIn  college  cloisters  he  had  learned,  — \n\nA  priest  of  guileless  heart. \n\nIn  times  when  every  rank,  degree. \n\nAppropriate  garments  wore. \nHis  priestly  garb  made  plain  to  sight \n\nThe  sacred  name  he  bore. \nFrom  Merrymount  or  Plymouth  Rock \n\nDid  saint  or  sinner  stray. \nHe  gave  them  of  his  frugal  meal, \n\nAnd  sped  them  on  their  way. \nThe  mocker  stayed  his  ribald  jest ; \n\nThe  Indian  bowed  his  head  ; \nAll  recognized  the  man  of  God, \n\nWho  shared  with  him  his  bread. \n\n\nYears  came  and  went,  his  chief  delight \nTo  watch  the  seasons  change. \n\nTo  fish  or  fowl  along  the  shore. \nOr  neighboring  hills  to  range  ; \n\nCull  cress  and  herb,  and  mark  the  Spring \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKS  TONE. \n\n\n13 \n\n\nHer  measured  mazes  tread, \nMayflower,  violet,  eglantine. \n\nEach  morn  new  odor  shed  ; \nRoses  from  home,  that  cherished  ties \n\nKept  in  perennial  bloom, \nCarols  awakening  memories \n\nWhich  living  forms  assume. \n\nHe  roams  the  woods,  and  tracks  the  deer \n\nThrough  winter's  drift  of  snow. \nOr  on  its  crust,  in  snow-shoes  glides \n\nWith  every  pulse  aglow  ; \nNow  mid  the  summer  moonbeams  floats \n\nUpon  the  w^aters  wide \nThat  vs^ashed  up  to  his  cottage  door. \n\nWith  each  returning  tide. \n\nHis  trees  in  spring  perfume  the  breeze, \n\nIn  autumn  yield  their  fruit ; \nIf  no  Eve  there  with  him  to  share, \n\nSerpent  to  bruise  his  foot. \nHis  Eden  ground  requites  his  toil. \n\nEach  moderate  want  supplies  ; \nWith  grateful  heart  received  what  sent, \n\nNor  craved  what  God  denies. \n\n\nWhen  frosty  days  the  night  closed  in \nHe  sought  his  sheltered  nook. \n\nBeside  the  blazing  logs  to  muse. \nOr  con  his  favorite  book  ; \n\nLittle  he  dreamed  that  Copley's  brush. \n\n\nH \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nWhere  stood  his  humble  cot, \nShould  one  day  magic  works  create, \n\nNot  to  be  soon  forgot. \nYet  still  perchance,  as  lulled  the  storm, \n\nThe  stirring  tones  he  hears \nOf  Lyndhurst's  matchless  eloquence. \n\nThrice  chief  among  his  peers  ; \nNor  only  famous  for  his  birth, \n\nHis  eye  prophetic  scanned \nA  throng  of  men  since  known  to  fame, \n\nWhose  homes  stood  close  at  hand  : \nOtis,  of  honeyed  eloquence  ; \n\nChanning,  from  heaven  astray ; \nPrescott,  of  lucid  narrative  ; \n\nMotley  and  Phillips  play  ; \nAnd  merchant  princes,  bold  and  wise, \n\nWarm  heart  and  liberal  hand. \nWho  reaped  rich  harvests  from  the  seas \n\nTo  enrich  their  native  land. \nMight  one  but  tell  their  honored  names. \n\nRefinement,  culture,  worth. \nWhat  brighter  spot  than  his  own  home \n\nTo  illuminate  the  earth  ? \n\n\nAnd,  as  the  flickering  embers  cast \nStrange  shadows  on  his  walls. \n\nThe  dreamer  saw  those  walls  expand \nInto  palatial  halls. \n\nWhere  golden  youth,  whose  thrifty  sires \nWorked  that  their  sons  might  play, \n\nWith  merry  laugh  and  pleasant  chat \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nBeguile  the  hours  away. \nHe  saw  before  their  w^indows  spread \n\nA  paradise  of  shade, \nWhere  hike  and  turf  cooed  lovingly \n\nAnd  gleaming  fountains  played. \nAnd  all  around,  in  myriad  forms, \n\nA  glorious  city  grown, \nOf  thrice  a  hundred  thousand  souls, \n\nWhose  fame  through  earth  is  known  ; \nWith  freedom,  faith,  and  culture  blest \n\nTo  bloom  till  time  grows  old,  — \nThe  fairest  rose  that  decks  our  orb \n\nWere  half  its  marvels  told. \nPerhaps  the  lifted  clouds  disclosed \n\nMuch  that  to  us  is  dim,  — \nA  future  as  much  more  wondrous  still \n\nAs  what  is  now  to  him. \n\n\nYet  not  alone  glad  themes  like  these \n\nPossessed  his  busy  thought, \nWhich,  wandering  back  in  fancy,  traced \n\nWhat  all  such  marvels  wrought. \nA  nation  angry  with  its  king \n\nWho  would  a  tyrant  be  ; \nThat  gory  head,  the  bloody  axe  ; \n\nSure  now  they  must  be  free. \nAh,  no  !  not  yet  the  lesson  taught, \n\nNot  yet  is  earned  the  prize. \nThey  first  must  learn  to  rule  themselves. \n\nBe  honest,  just,  and  wise. \nNot  Cromwell,  with  his  gloomy  rule, \n\n\ni6 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKS  TONE. \n\n\nNor  Stuarts,  gay  or  trist, \nOrange  nor  Brunswick,  cared  to  know \n\nFor  subje6ls  thrones  exist. \nNot  all  of  Marlborough's  vi6lories, \n\nLaurels  by  land  or  sea. \nCould  make  a  nation  truly  great, \n\nUnless  both  good  and  free. \nNot  all  her  glowing  page  reveals, \n\nHer  statesmanship  has  won, \nScience  or  art  can  glorious  make \n\nWith  half  her  work  undone. \nThough  every  realm  between  the  poles \n\nTo  her  its  homage  pays. \nIn  people's  vs^eal  and  happiness \n\nA  nation's  grandeur  lays. \n\nTime's  footsteps,  as  they  hurry  on. \n\nMay  not  at  each  mile-stone  stop  ; \nYet  generations,  grown  more  free, \n\nEach  reign  some  shackle  drop, \nTill  knowledge,  its  inheritance. \n\nAnd  law  divine,  supreme, \nOur  father-land,  the  Eden  be, \n\nPidlured  in  Blackstone's  dream. \n\n\nAll  that  can  chance,  'tis  said,  in  dreams. \nFlits  like  lightning  around  the  earth  ; \n\nBut  limbs  grown  chill  admonishing, \nFresh  fagots  heap  the  hearth. \n\nAnd  as  the  genial  flame  again \nThe  cheerful  room  illumes, \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n1/ \n\n\nA  sense  of  comfort  came  once  more, \nAnd  he  his  theme  resumes. \n\nNow,  m  the  \"Mayflower\"  cabin  grouped, \n\nThe  Pilgrims  sign  the  deed. \nWhich,  basing  rule  on  equal  rights. \n\nOf  freedom  sowed  the  seed. \nThrough  tribulations  dire,  that  seed. \n\nLike  winter  grain,  they  sow, \nAs  nations  ripen  to  receive. \n\nThe  earth  to  overgrow. \n\nHe  sees  how  other  men,  like  him. \n\nGrown  weary  of  their  kind. \nHome,  friends,  and  country  all  forsake, \n\nIn  other  lands  to  find. \nMany  for  whom  no  cover  laid. \n\nAt  Nature's  table  there. \nWith  wife  and  child,  and  all  they  have. \n\nHard  hand  and  heart  to  dare. \n\nHe  sees  the  swiftly  speeding  bark. \n\nFleets  wing  their  westward  flight, \nTill  where  the  beast  or  savage  roamed \n\nThey  gather  in  their  might. \nIndians  in  vain  provoke  their  wrath. \n\nFrenchmen  in  vain  contend. \nTheir  armies  Louisburg  reduce \n\nOr  Abraham's  Heights  ascend. \n\nFrance  yields  the  realm  she  cannot  hold. \nAnd  prostrate  every  foe  ; \n\n\ni8 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nThey  claim  their  honest  rights  as  men, \nFor  freedom  strike  the  blow. \n\nWhat  need  repeat  that  honored  roll, \nWho  fought  on  field  or  flood, \n\nWho,  sage  in  council  as  in  war. \nSealed  their  brave  faith  in  blood  ? \n\n'Tis  not  alone  the  deathless  names \n\nThat  glory's  meed  deserve  ; \nTheirs,  though  obscure,  who  nobly  fell. \n\nAngels  above  preserve. \nNo  prouder  heirloom  for  their  race \n\nThan  in  such  struggle  die, \nWhich  gave  a  mighty  nation  birth. \n\nFirst-born  of  Liberty. \n\n\nAnd  as  imagination  paints \n\nIts  spread  from  sea  to  sea,  — \nCities  and  states  of  wondrous  growth  ; \n\nFour  million  slaves  set  free,  — \nThat  little  cot  seemed  all  too  small \n\nTo  cage  so  bold  a  wing ; \nHe  issued  forth  into  the  night, \n\nTo  hark  the  seraphs  sing. \nWhere  stars  on  stars,  in  lustrous  blaze. \n\nDecked  the  high  arch  above. \nAnd,  gazing  on  their  circling  orbs, \n\nHow  could  he  doubt  God's  love. \nOr  to  his  power  a  limit  fix. \n\nOr  to  his  will  to  bless  ? \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n19 \n\n\nHe  knew  that  he  was  infinite, \n\nAnd  his  law  happiness. \nCalm  and  subdued,  at  peace  with  Heaven, \n\nSweet  sleep  his  being  fills  ; \nAnd  sunshine,  when  he  oped  his  door, \n\nPurpled  the  snow-clad  hills. \n\nThus  glided  by  the  hermit's  life, \n\nHe  hoped  might  never  change. \nWhen  rumors  came  across  the  sea. \n\nTidings  of  purport  strange. \nTen  years  had  passed  since  ^'Mayflower\"  brought \n\nThe  Pilgrims  to  the  shore  ; \nAnd  now,  with  many  a  sister  bark. \n\nThey  bring  a  thousand  more  ; \nOf  generous  culture,  brave,  devout. \n\nWomen  of  high  degree, \nFrom  homes  of  ease  and  affluence, \n\nA  goodly  company. \nBeyond  the  stream,  where  Warren  fell. \n\nRose  one  spacious  home  for  all ; \nAnd  long,  before  the  corn  grew  ripe. \n\nThey  gathered  in  its  hall. \n\n\nUnused  to  hardships,  sorrowing \n\nFor  friends  the  seas  divide. \nThey  droop  and  sicken,  one  by  one  ; \n\nEven  their  physician  died. \nGrim  Death  appalled  some  frighted  souls, \n\nTo  some  a  welcome  guest, \nThe  wise  to  Providence  resigned. \n\n\n20 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nHowever  sore  distressed. \nTheir  barks  but  scanty  food  supplied  ; \n\nUntilled  as  yet  the  fields  ; \nAnd  soon  to  fevered  lips  the  spring \n\nNo  more  refreshment  yields. \nIt  was  a  sorry  sight  to  see, \n\nTo  make  one's  heart  to  bleed ; \nHow  could  a  Christian  man  unmoved \n\nRegard  such  urgent  need  ? \nHis  springs  and  brooks  in  copious  streams \n\nWith  crystal  waters  welled  ; \nHe  gave  them  all  they  wished  and  more,  — \n\nNaught  but  his  farm  withheld. \n\n\nYet  all  he  had  suffered  from  his  kind, \n\nHe  could  not  quite  forget ; \nToo  dearly  loved  his  solitude \n\nTo  lose  without  regret. \nWe  found  him,  when  our  tale  began, \n\nWhere  now  our  golden  dome \nSheds  lustre  on  our  little  world, \n\nOn  many  a  happy  home. \nThe  hill,  then  loftier  far  than  now, \n\nLooked  out  upon  the  sea. \nWhich  in  the  setting  sunbeams  glowed \n\nIn  molten  brilliancy. \nAnd  as  he  gazed,  sad  memories  stole \n\nOf  all  his  days  before  ; \nOf  many  a  grief  to  wring  his  heart, \n\nAnd  disappointment  sore. \nWhen  left  to  nature  and  himself. \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n21 \n\n\nLife  had  been  pleased  content ; \nBut  every  fibre  of  his  soul \n\nThe  world  had  wrenched  and  rent. \nHe  had  placed  implicit  trust  in  Heaven, \n\nAnd,  striving  to  do  right. \nSolace,  all  unexpected,  came, \n\nAs  follows  day  the  night \nIf  dread  presentiments  of  ill \n\nPerplex  his  troubled  soul, \nHe  fearlessly  submits  his  will \n\nTo  that  supreme  control, \nWhich,  thus  far  on  his  pilgrimage \n\nHis  never-failing  guide. \nWill  not  forget  him  or  forsake. \n\nWhatever  chance  betide. \nHis  heart  still  yearned  to  be  at  home ; \n\nFamiliar  faces  see  ; \nAnd  all  he  left  for  conscience'  sake \n\nIn  lands  beyond  the  sea. \n\n\nThat  sea,  as  set  the  parting  sun. \n\nThe  gathering  darkness  shrouds. \nWhilst  western  skies  its  lingering  beam \n\nHeaps  high  with  gorgeous  clouds. \nRose,  blue,  or  emerald,  every  tint \n\nOf  gold  or  flower  or  gem \nMingled  or  gleamed  with  opal  change \n\nAlp,  throne,  or  diadem. \nIt  was  a  glorious  spectacle, \n\nAnd,  as  entranced  the  view, \nThe  omen  he  accepts  as  sent \n\n\n22  WILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\nHis  courage  to  renew. \nWith  swelling  heart  and  radiant  face \n\nHe  marked  their  splendors  die  ; \nHis  homeward  path  the  evening  star \n\nBeaconing  from  twilight  sky. \n\nWhen  once  resolved,  he,  wavering  not, \n\nHis  invitation  gave. \nWhich  to  that  haggard  crowd  appeared \n\nLike  rescue  from  the  grave. \nThey  waste  no  time,  but  speedily \n\nTheir  preparations  make. \nAnd,  'ere  the  harv^est  moon  has  waned. \n\nTheir  way  across  they  take. \nThe  first  that  leaped  ashore  lived  on \n\nNear  a  hundred  years  to  tell,  — \nHer  wrinkled  front  on  canvas  shows \n\nWhat  that  lono^  life  befel. \n\n\n\"fc) \n\n\nNot  all  could  come,  —  some  quite  too  ill \n\nTo  move  from  where  they  w^ere  ; \nBold  men  explored  the  higher  streams, \n\nOr  settled  Dorchester ; \nAnd  Salstonstall  to  Watertown, \n\nDudley  to  Cambridge  guide,  — \nThe  sires  to  countless  multitudes \n\nAn  honest  source  of  pride. \n\nBut  Winthrop  came,  and  hosts  whose  names \n\nDescendants  bear  to-day ; \nJohnson,  whose  loved  remains  they  bring. \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n23 \n\n\nAnd  funeral  honors  pay  ; \nWilson,  their  pastor,  best  of  guides, \n\nThrough  thorny  paths  to  steer, \nWho  left  St.  Botolph's  noble  fane \n\nTo  keep  his  conscience  clear  ; \nGrave  men,  in  sober  garb  arrayed, \n\nMatrons,  both  wise  and  good. \nYoung  men,  of  manly  form  and  port. \n\nAnd  fairest  maidenhood. \n\n\nNear  where  they  land,  and  friends  they  left. \n\nSome  habitations  reared, \nBut  what  of  splendor  graced  the  place \n\nHas  long  since  disappeared. \nThe  marts  of  trade  and  squalid  want \n\nNow  occupy  the  ground. \nWhere  Mathers,  Hutchinsons,  Revere, \n\nOnce  shed  their  lustre  round. \nAnd  fashion,  wandering  farther  west, \n\nAffedls  that  region  gay. \nWhere  Boston's  sole  inhabitant \n\nPassed  many  a  happy  day. \n\nTheir  choicest  lot  they  gave  to  him. \n\nIn  hearts  and  councils  first ; \nIts  wholesome  waters  flow  to-day \n\nAs  when  they  quenched  his  thirst. \nAt  equal  distance  from  its  gates, \n\nThe  beacon  and  the  fort. \nThe  country  roused  against  the  foe. \n\nProtects  their  infant  port. \n\n\n24  WILLIAM  BLACKS  TONE. \n\nThe  briny  currents  ebbed  and  flowed, \n\nFreshening  the  air  around  ; \nMingling  their  perfume  with  the  flowers \n\nThat  decked  his  garden  ground. \nHis  modest  home  of  English  oak, \n\nLike  tents  the  Arabs  fold. \nThrice  moved,  before  it  anchored  fast. \n\nTill  England  lost  her  hold \nOn  this  broad  land  she  threw  away. \n\nNot  heeding  his  words  of  light. \nThat  liberty  is  simply  law \n\nWhich  gives  each  man  his  right. \nHer  vandal  soldiers  burnt  for  warmth \n\nEach  massive  beam  and  floor. \nWhere  he  had  cordial  welcome  given \n\nAlike  to  rich  and  poor. \nHis  brother  rulers  graced  his  board. \n\nAnd  many  an  Indian  chief; \nThat  there  he  Blackstone  entertained, \n\nIs  not  beyond  belief. \n\nOur  theme  is  Blackstone's  history. \n\nNot  that  of  Winthrop's  home  ; \nBut,  standing  on  this  sacred  spot. \n\nThe  words  unbidden  come. \nHe  died  ;  and  after  Wilson  passed. \n\nThat  gifted  man  in  prayer, \nNorton,  fed  his  flock,  and  here  abode \n\nTill  Heaven  called  him  there. \nIn  dying  he  a  portion  gave \n\nHis  widow,  all  the  rest \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE.  25 \n\n\nTo  raise  another  house  to  God, \n\nAnd  succor  the  distressed. \nHere  Stoughton  told  of  winnowed  seed, \n\nSewall  confessed  his  fault, \nAnd  pious  pastors  by  the  score \n\nThe  Infinite  exalt. \nPrince  wrote  his  annals,  books  collects \n\nRare  and  of  price  untold  ; \nSome  went  to  kindle  Winthrop's  house. \n\nWell  worth  their  weight  in  gold. \n\nHere  the  bold  eloquence,  that  fired \n\nThe  heart  to  daring  deed, \nDenounced  the  tyrant  in  his  might. \n\nOur  blessed  country  freed. \nWhen  dusky  form  and  warwhoop  dread, \n\nAnd  steady  tramp  drew  near. \nTo  throw  the  tea  into  the  sea. \n\nIts  crowded  thousands  cheer. \nSee  Warren,  when  soldiers  rude  shut  out. \n\nThrough  open  window  glide, \nHis  kerchief  on  pointed  muzzle  drop, \n\nShame  foes  whom  he  defied. \n\nIf  Faneuil's  hall  its  cradle  be. \n\nThis  church  is  Freedom's  school ; \n\nBoth  teach  its  priceless  boon  to  gain, \nHow  best  preserved  its  rule. \n\nTheir  hallowed  walls,  in  spirit  tones. \nRepeat  each  honored  name  ; \n\nThose  glorious  voices  keep  alive \n\n\n26 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nThe  telephone  of  fame. \nYet  in  no  feeble  whispers  breathe, \n\nWith  no  uncertain  sound, \nTheir  bugle  notes  stir  vaHant  hearts. \n\nWhere  any  despot's  found. \nLet  not  these  glorious  monuments. \n\nOf  word  and  adion  brave, \nBe  swept  from  earth  while  freedom  lasts, \n\nWhilst  freemen  live  to  save. \nThe  Ipswich  room,  where  Norton  prayed, \n\nWrote  words  to  search  or  burn. \nIts  shelves  and  tables  all  remain, \n\nAwaiting  his  return. \nIf  anarch  ever  rule  the  land. \n\nOr  tyrant  forge  the  chain. \nThese  very  walls  will  be  a  power \n\nTo  drive  them  forth  again. \n\n\nWe  cannot  shape  our  destiny, \n\nOr  one  who  dearly  prized \nReligious  freedom,  human  right, \n\nWould  all  have  sacrificed. \nWith  Eliot,  Hampden,  to  oppose \n\nEncroachments  of  the  crown, \nBearing  his  part  as  valiantly. \n\nWinning  the  like  renown. \nBut  no  such  opportunities \n\nLay  in  Blackstone's  path  of  life. \nAnd  long  estrangement  from  his  kind \n\nMade  him  averse  to  strife. \nThe  earnest  faith  the  Puritans \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n27 \n\n\nIn  daily  walks  displayed \nAwoke  an  echo  in  his  breast, \n\nOn  simple  tenets  stayed. \nThough  all  the  land  was  his  by  law \n\nThey  could  not  well  gainsay, \nHe  as  a  freeman  took  his  part. \n\nPrayed  In  their  church  of  clay. \nBesides  his  fifty-acre  farm. \n\nAnd  six  he  dwelt  upon, \nHe  made  them  welcome  to  the  rest. \n\nAnd  by  himself  lived  on. \nLater  that  farm,  from  then  till  now \n\nTo  public  use  applied. \nHe  gave  up,  all  contributing. \n\nTo  be  our  special  pride. \n\nWhen  antinomians  disturbed \n\nThe  peace  that  reigned  before, \nAnd  w^omen  gathered  near  at  hand. \n\nOn  husbands  closed  the  door. \nDared  boldly  to  assert  their  right \n\nTo  think  as  they  saw  fit, \nDeemed  grace  far  better  than  good  works, \n\nFree  will  than  holy  writ, \nWinthrop  would  fain  the  turmoil  still. \n\nAs  other  men  of  sense  ; \nSir  Harry  Vane  but  fanned  the  flame. \n\nTo  make  it  more  intense. \nThe  women  conquered.     At  the  helm \n\nVane  steered  the  ship  of  state. \nAnd  would  have  wrecked  it  on  the  shoals, \n\n\n28 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nIf  such  had  been  its  fate. \nBlackstone  loved  Hberty  of  thought ; \n\nHis  views  w^ere  too  defined \nFor  any  subtle  points  like  these \n\nTo  fret  his  equal  mind. \nPerchance,  as  no  Rachel  blessed  his  lot, \n\nIt  served  but  to  amuse, \nAnd  heard  with  patience  either  side \n\nThe  other  side  abuse. \n\nNot  so  when  Williams,  Gorton  came, \n\nWith  views  more  like  his  own, \nAnd  Puritans  from  recent  strife \n\nIntolerant  had  grown, \nAnd  w^ould  have  forced  him  to  conform \n\nTo  rules  not  to  his  mind  ; \nHe  grieved  to  think  that  freedom  gone \n\nHe  had  lost  so  much  to  find. \nHe  told  them  plainly  he  had  come \n\nOf  lord  bishops  to  be  rid. \nAnd  not  disposed  to  be  controlled \n\nBy  lords  brethren  in  their  stead. \n\n\nOnce  more  he  had  tried  to  love  his  kind, \n\nPlace  faith  in  Christian  men  ; \nHe  found  them  harsh,  unjust,  and  sought \n\nHis  solitude  again. \nWith  herd  and  book  he  wends  his  way \n\nThrough  forests  dense  and  drear, \nAnd  by  the  stream  that  bears  his  name \n\nAbode,  no  neighbors  near. \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n29 \n\n\nWhen  later  Roger  Williams  came, \n\nAnother  State  to  plant, \nReligious  liberty  proclaim, \n\nMore  friends  he  did  not  want. \nMassasoit,  Miantonimo, \n\nKnew  well  his  modest  worth, \nAllowed  no  Indian  of  their  tribes \n\nIntrude  upon  his  hearth. \nTaste,  if  not  splendor,  graced  his  home. \n\nIn  rural  labor  skilled, \nHis  herds  and  flocks  fast  multiplied. \n\nHis  barns  rich  harvests  filled. \nThe  trees  he  planted  long  survived, \n\nFamed  for  the  fruit  they  bore. \nAnd  trace  remains  of  Blackstone,  dead \n\nTwo  centuries  and  more. \n\n\nHe  loved  his  books,  but  nature  too. \n\nExplored  the  country  wild. \nMounted  upon  his  cream-white  steer. \n\nSubmissive  as  a  child. \nAs  age  advanced,  he  prized  less  dear \n\nAn  independent  life. \nAnd,  yearning  for  companionship. \n\nIt  blessed  him  in  a  wife  ; \nFor,  often  thus  revisiting \n\nThe  spot  so  long  his  home. \nHis  steed  brought  back  a  blooming  bride, \n\nMore  pleased  than  Jove's  to  come. \nA  dozen  years  of  happy  days \n\nOf  mutual  love  had  flown, \n\n\n30 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKS  TONE. \n\n\nDeath  took  her  gently  from  his  side, \n\nNor  wholly  left  alone. \nOne  only  child  engrossed  his  thoughts, \n\nYet  requited  ill  his  care, \nFor,  when  at  fourscore  Blackstone  died. \n\nHe  proved  a  spenthrift  heir. \n\n\nSo  says  the  legend.     But  portents  dark \n\nShrouded  the  land  in  gloom \nAs  Philip  struck  one  vigorous  blow \n\nTo  avert  his  coming  doom. \nHe  knew  full  well  that  lust  for  power. \n\nGreed  for  the  wilds  he  roved. \nMust  soon  exterminate  his  race. \n\nUnless  that  chance  improved. \nIn  forest  glades  his  dusky  braves, \n\nTheir  fiery  war-paint  dight. \nSwooped  dow^n  with  yell  and  purpose  fell \n\nUpon  the  towns  at  night ; \nTorch,  scalping-knife,  and  tomahawk \n\nTheir  ruthless  vengeance  wreak  ; \nThey  bravely  battled  with  the  strong. \n\nBut  did  not  spare  the  weak. \nFor  near  two  years,  with  varied  chance, \n\nThe  bloody  strife  went  on  ; \nTheir  foes  bought  traitors  in  their  camp. \n\nAnd  thus  the  vi6lory  won. \nThe  chiefs,  who  wisely  laid  their  plans. \n\nOn  many  a  field  fought  hard. \nFell  martyrs  for  their  peoples'  rights  ; \n\nWhat  nobler  theme  for  bard  } \n\n\nWILLI  A  M  BLA  CKS  TONE.  3  i \n\n\nThe  Narragansett  king  of  realms \n\nNone  fairer  to  behold, \nRefused  to  barter  land  for  life, \n\nHis  faithful  braves  for  gold. \nHis  sole  request,  —  no  white  man's  hand \n\nShould  pierce  his  faithful  breast,  — \nPequods  his  generous  spirit  sent \n\nWhere  Indian  braves  are  blest. \nPhilip  well  knew  the  cause  was  lost, \n\nAnd,  saddened,  not  dismayed, \nCalmly  prepared  himself  for  death. \n\nNot  long  to  be  delayed. \nErecSl  upon  his  lofty  throne, \n\nBetween  azure  sea  and  sky. \nHe  took  one  last,  fond,  lingering  look. \n\nThen  bowed  his  head  to  die. \n\nBlackstone  lay  quiet  in  his  grave, \n\nBut  the  fierce  tornado  swept \nHouse,  barns,  and  written  page  away \n\nThe  world  were  richer  kept. \nThe  son  less  frugal  than  the  sire. \n\nHis  farm,  now  precious  grown, \nPassed  to  a  race  that  valued  it \n\nBecause  once  Blackstone's  own. \nHis  grandson  fell  at  Louisburg, \n\nAnd  descendants  yet  may  be \nFrom  Shawmut's  sole  inhabitant. \n\nTo  love  his  memory. \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n33 \n\n\nNOTES. \n\n\nIPage  7.] \n\nThe  following  deposition  of  Mrs.  Ann  Pollard  is  that  alluded  to  as \nidentifying-  Blackstone's  house  as  situated  on  Beacon,  between  Walnut  and \nSpruce  streets,  on  the  grounds  upon  Burgiss's  map  of  1728,  set  down  as \nBannister's  gardens:  — \n\n\"The  deposition  of  Anne  Pollard,  of  Boston,  widow,  aged  about  eighty- \nnine  years.  This  deponent  testifyeth  and  saith :  that  this  deponent's  hus- \nband, Mr.  William  Pollard,  occupied  and  improved  a  certain  piece  or \nparcel  of  land  situated  near  the  bottom  of  the  Common,  at  the  westerly  part \nthereof,  in  Boston  aforesaid,  and  bounded  on  the  sea  south-west  for  many \nyears ;  and  that  her  said  husband  had  hired  the  same  of  Richard  Peepys,  late \nof  Boston  aforesaid,  gentleman,  deceased,  who  often  told  this  deponent \nthat  he,  the  said  Peepys,  bought  the  said  land  of  Mr.  Blackstone,  clerk, \nformerly  of  Boston  aforesaid;  and  further,  that  deponent  saith  that  the  said \nPeepys  built  a  house  thereon,  wherein  this  deponent  and  her  said  husband \ndwelt  for  near  fourteen  years,  during  which  time  the  said  Blackstone  used \nfrequently  to  resort  thereto ;  and  this  deponent  never  heard  any  controversy \nbetween  him  and  the  said  Peepys  about  the  said  land,  but  that  the  same  was \nalways  reputed  to  belong  to  him,  as  this  deponent  understood;  and  she \nfurther  says,  that  soon  after  the  sale  thereof,  as  she  supposeth,  the  said \nBlackstone  removed  from  this  town  of  Boston;  and  further  saith  not, \n\n\"ANNE  POLLARD. \n\n\"  Boston,  December  26,  171 1.\" \n\n\\_Page  7.] \nThe  Charles  river,  so  named  for  the  unfortunate  monarch  who  expiated \nhis  father's  faults  and  his  own  on  the  scaffold,  was  called  by  the  Indians \nQuinobequin, \n\n\\_Page  II.] \n\n1.  Chickatabut,  whose  conveyance  of  the  peninsula  and  lands  to  the \ncolonists  in  1630  was  confirmed  by  his  grandson,  Wampatuck,  in  1684-5. \n\n[Page  12.] \n\n2.  Thomas  Walford,  at  Mishawum,  now  Charlestown;  David  Thomp- \nson died  1628,  at  the  island  now  bearing  his  name  and  occupied  by  the  Farm \nSchool;  Samuel  Maverick  lived  at  what  is  now  known  as  East  Boston. \n\n\n34 \n\n\nWILLIAM   BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n{Page  12.] \n\n3.   Merry  Mount,  near  Mount  Wollaston,  where  Thomas  Morton  held  his \nrevels, \n\nI \n\nIPage  13.] \n\nAccording  to  tradition,  roses,  of  English  varieties,  adorned  the  garden  of \nBlackstone.  In  -  Merrymount,\"  Motley  describes  him  as  riding  on  a  bull. \nThis  is  possible,  since  cattle  were  sent  out  to  the  colony  at  Strawberry  Bank \non  the  coast  of  Maine,  to  Cape  Ann  and  Plymouth,  between  1620  and  1630;' \nand  Maverick,  no  doubt,  had  many  on  his  island.  That  Blackstone  broke  in \na  bull  to  bit  and  bridle,  and  scampered  upon  its  back  over  his  domain,  then \nconsisting  of  seven  hundred  and  fifty  acres,  is  not  impossible,  or,  perhaps, \nimprobable ;  but,  as  his  riding  later  about  his  new  home  at  Rehoboth,  and  in \nvisiting  Providence  and  Boston  on  such  an  animal  of  the  color  mentioned, \nis  well  authenticated,  the  earlier  bull  may  be  a  myth.  The  text,  endeav- \noring to  be  historically  accurate,  reluctantly  refrains  from  an  incident, \nwhich,  if  It  rested  upon  more  reliable  tradition,  would  add  another  interest- \ning association  with  the  earliest  settlement  of  our  city. \n\n{.Page  14.] \nThe  house  at  the  corner  of  Walnut  and  Beacon  streets  was  built  by  John \nPhillips,  first  mayor  of  Boston,  and  father  of  the  distinguished  orator  The \nfather  of  John  Lothrop  Motley,  when  the  historian  was  a  boy,  lived  on \nWalnut  street,  opposite  the  head  of  Chestnut;  Dr.  Channing  on  Mount \nVernon,  Otis  and  Prescott  on  Beacon. \n\n{Page  14.] \nBlackstone  in  his  vision  may  be  supposed  to  have  recognized  many  other \ncelebrities,  local  or  world-renowned,  connedted  with  the  future  of  his  farm \nwhose  names  are  household  words.     But  too  many  are  living  to  warrant  an \nallusion  to  them.     Francis  Parkman  and  Charles  Francis  Adams  are  too \nwidely  known   for  reserve;   McLean,  whose  name  attaches  to  one  of  our \nchanties  he  contributed  largely  to  found,  and  David  Sears,  whose  generous \nbenefaaions  relieve  hundreds  of  the  worthy  poor,  with  scores   of  more \nfamiliar  from  their  munificence,  public  service,  and  local  influence,  have \ndwelt  or  dwell  now  within  its  limits. \n\n\n{Page  19.] \nSeventeen  vessels  came  in  May  and  June,  chiefly  to  Salem,  whence  a  large \npart  of  the  colonists  moved  to  Charlestown.  A  large  house  had  been \nereAed  there  for  their  accommodation  on  the  Square.  It  was  after^vards \nused  for  a  tavern,  and  burnt  on  the  day  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  Dr \nGager  died  on  the  2d,  and  Isaac  Johnson,  whose  wife  was  the  Lady  Arbella' \ndaughter  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  on  the  30th  of  September;  but  he  was' \nburied  in  the  King's  Chapel  burying-ground. \n\n\nt     I \n\nL    C     C \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\n35 \n\n\n\\^Page  22.] \n\nNorth  Square  was  till  recent  days  the  centre  of  many  handsome  residences \n—  Hutchinson's  and  Sir  Henry  Frankland's  being  the  most  costly  and  mem- \n\n\norable. \n\n\nI \n\n\nIPage  23.] \n\nThe  lot  assigned  to  Winthrop  was  nearly  identical  with  that  owned  by \nthe  Old  South  Congregation  before  their  recent  removal  to  Dartmouth \nstreet.  It  extended  from  Spring  lane  to  Milk  street,  from  Washington  to \nthe  lane  once  known  as  Jolliffe's,  now  Sewall  place.  The  house  ereAed  by \nWinthrop  stood  on  the  north,  or  Spring  lane  side,  of  the  property.  It  was \nused  for  a  century  as  the  parsonage,  and  burnt  during  the  siege  of  Boston \nby  British  soldiers,  in  1775,  for  fuel. \n\nIPage  25.] \n\nSewall  confessed  his  fault  for  hanging  the  witches,  in  meeting-time, \nbefore  the  assembled  congregation. \n\n\nIPage  29.] \n\nBlackstone's  orchard  in  Boston  was  well  grown  when  he  left  Boston  for \nRehoboth,  where,  about  his  abode  at  Study  Hill,  he  owned  two  hundred \nacres,  and  more  in  the  neighborhood  of  Providence.  His  son  John  sold \nto  Mr.  Whipple,  whose  descendants  still  own,  or  did  till  recently. \n\n\n\\_Page  29.] \n\nThe  story  of  Jupiter,  the  white  bull,  and  Europa  is  well  known  to  classi- \ncal scholars. \n\nIPage  31.] \n\nCanonchet,  soon  after  the  battle  of  the  plains,  near  Blackstone's  abode,  in \nMarch,  1676,  left  his  army  of  fifteen  hundred  men,  with  a  slender  following, \nto  procure  seed-corn  at  Seekonk.  The  7th  of  April  he  was  surprised  at \nStudy  Hill  and  captured,  and  was  carried  to  Stonington.  He  declined  all \novertures  for  surrendering  his  own  and  his  people's  territory  in  exchange  for \nhis  life,  only  praying  his  captors  that  his  death-blow  might  be  speedily  given \nby  Uncas,  a  sagamore  of  the  Pequods.  It  was  not  so  ordered;  but,  in  the \npresence  of  Major  Denison,  the  Pequods  shot  him;  Mohegans  cut  off  his \nhead,  quartered  and  dismembered  his  body;  Ninnicroft's  men  burnt  the \nremains,  except  the  head,  which  they  presented  to  the  council  at  Hartford. \nHis  principal  residence,  as  that  of  his  father,  Miantonimo,  is  believed  to \nhave  been  Taminy  Hill,  in  Newport,  his  dominions  extending  over  the \nislands  and  westerly  shore  of  Narragansett  Bay. \n\n\n36 \n\n\nWILLIAM  BLACKSTONE. \n\n\nIPage  31.] \nKing  Philip,  sachem  of   Pokanoket,   youngest  son   of  Ocamsequin,  or \nMassasoit,  succeeded  his  brother  Alexander  as  king  of  the  Wampanoags  in \n1657.     His   policy  was  to  drive  the  English  into  the  sea  and  recover  the \ncountry  for  the  Indian  tribes.     Sausaman,  his  secretary,  and  a  convert  of \nJohn  Eliot's,  betrayed  his  plans  to  his  enemies.    Two  traditions  exist  as  to \nhis  death:   one,  that  he  was  slain  by   Church's  men,  Saturday  morning, \nAugust  12,  1676,  in  a  swamp,  while  attempting  to  escape;  the  other,  upon \nMount  Hope,  as  related  in  the  text.     Mount  Hope,  in  Bristol,  overlook- \ning Narragansett  Bay  and  the  sea,  was  one  of  his  abodes;  Long  Pond,  at \nRainham,  near  the  old  home  of  the  Leonards,  another.    Annawan,  chief  of \nthe  council  of  Philip,  and  his  best  general,  was  captured,  August  28th,  at \nSquannecook  marsh,  in  Rehoboth,  by  Church,  who  endeavored  to  save  his \nlife;  but,  much  to  his  chagrin,  he  was  beheaded  at  Plymouth,  Tuopaquin, \na  noble  Massachusetts   warrior,   captured  later,   being  his   companion   in \ndeath. \n\n00^:^00 \n\nAs  the  forms  were  going  to  the  press,  \"  Merrymount,\"  read  many  years \nago,  came  to  light  from  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  writer's  shelves. \nHis  attempt  to  render  more  familiar  to  present  generations  what  has  been \ntransmitted  of  the  hermit  of  Shawmut  would  have  been  discouraged  had \nMotley's  vivid  and  complete  account  of  him  been  remembered.  Some  sup- \nposed incidents  will  be  found  both  in  the  novel  and  poem;  but  in  the  latter \nthey  were  not  borrowed  from  the  former,  but  suggested  by  the  subject  com- \nmon to  both.  The  reader  of  the  novel  will  take  especial  delight  in  this  early \nscintillation  of  a  genius  which  has  since  commanded  the  admiration  of  the \nworld.  The  situation  of  Blackstone's  abode  in  the  book  accords  with  that \ndetermined  beyond  all  farther  controversy  by  the  deposition  of  Mrs.  Pollard. \nFor  the  moose-colored  bull  on  which  the  novel  mounts  the  sole  inhabitant \nis  claimed  historical  proof,  and  his  solitude  is  cheered  by  a  fawn,  possibly \nno  creature  of  the  imagination,  but  an  actuality,  as  the  minotaur,  supported \nby  evidence. \n\n\nLIBRftRY  OF  CONGRESS \n\n\n0  014  076  837  6  • \n\n\n","title":"William Blackstone, Boston's first inhabitant","updated_at":"2026-09-05T09:56:49.758206Z","urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:william-blackstone-boston-s-first-inhabitant","version":1,"withdrawn_reason":null},"urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:william-blackstone-boston-s-first-inhabitant","version_history":[{"change_note":"accessioned from the Internet Archive, item williamblackston02amor","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-05T09:56:50.051087Z","version":1}]}