Boston City (part 1 of 67)

Chapter

Illustrations: Sir Isaac Coffin, 3; John Hancock, 5; Samuel Eliot, 7; State Street (in 1801), 12 ; West End of Old State House (in 1793), 12 i Peace Extra,

Chapter Ii

Illustrations : Carleton's Map of Boston (1797), heliotype, 25; Dearborn's plan of Back Bay and Milldam, heliotype, 33 ; View from Fort Hill (in 1806), 47 ; Scollay's Building, 56; Down Court Street, 57 ; Exchange Coffee House, 58; Tremont Street Mall, 60; Frog Pond, 61; Intersection of Washington, Winter, and Summer streets, 62.

Illustrations: State House and the Monument (in 1811), 64; the Monument from the corner of Temple and Derne streets, 65 ; the Monument and the Thurston House, 65; Beacon Street and the Common (in 1804-1811), heliotype, 65; Boston from Breed's Hill (in 1791), 66; the Faneuil-Phillips House,

Illustrations: Boston Theatre Bill, Sept. 28, 1796, 361 ; the First Boston The¬ atre, 363; Bill of the Opening Night of the Haymarket Theatre, Dec. 26, 1796, heliotype, 363 ; Haymarket Theatre, 364; a Letter by Edmund Kean, heliotype, 366; Charlotte Cushman, 36S ; John Gilbert, 370.

Chapter Vi

Illustrations: Copley's "Boy and the Squirrel," 388; Gilbert Stuart, 390; Washington Allston, 393 ; Allston's " Titania's Court," 396; Hunt's "Dis¬ coverer," 400; and "Flight of Night," 401; Story's Statue of Colonel Pres¬ cott, 410; Ball's Statue of Washington, 412.

Chapter Viii

Illustrations: Charles Bulfinch, 472; The Bulfinch Medal, 473; The Tontine buildings, 474; Spire of Hollis Street Meeting-House, 477 ; The Art Muse¬ um, heliotype , 484; The First Church, 485 ; Tower of the New Brattle-Square Church, 486; The New Old South, 487 ; New Trinity Church, heliotype , 488.

Illustrations: Fac-simile of Earliest Medical Treatise printed in British America, 536; Dr. John Warren's receipt in fac-simile, 544; Medical college in Mason Street, 544; Doctor Waterhouse's inoculation ticket, 546; Dr.

Chapter Xiii

Illustrations : Extract from Amos Lawrence's diary, 642 ; Order by the Presi¬ dent and Council, 644; Order of Selectmen and Overseers of Poor (1779),

City Charter

IN giving some notices of manners and social life during this period, I shall speak first of usages which were characteristic of the close of the last century: most of them continued without essential modification until our city charter swept away the old landmarks, and Boston felt the im¬ pulses which mark a new epoch in her history. It is difficult to deal justly with ways of living which are not widely different from those that surround us. We miss the salient contrasts which lend themselves to picturesque de¬ scription, and are tempted to look for exceptional occurrences to brighten a narrative, rather than for facts which are truly symptomatic of taste and thought. Were it possible to go back four-score years, or even a century, and mingle with those then conducting the town, we should not feel among strangers. In many respects their ways were counterparts of our own. In certain directions, indeed, we might note a narrowness of range and a contraction of outlook, while envying the vigor of speech and de¬ cisiveness of action which seemed the outcome of the limitations. When Massachusetts took her place in the sisterhood of States, the gigantic up¬ heaval of the French Revolution had not taken place. The prophets whom her capital was to raise up to demand the redemption of human society, each with his panacea for its sad ailments, had put in no appearance. The tyranny of England had been broken by an heroic effort, and any further redemption which society might need would be provided by those who VOL. iv. - i.

The Memorial History Of Boston

were its natural protectors. Humanity was now marching the right way, and was not likely to deviate therefrom when officered by gentlemen of good family, good morals, and steady nerves. So it seemed in that spring of 1789, when the American Constitution went into operation, and the States-General assembled in France.

There were distinctions in Boston society which were the inheritance of old colonial and provincial relations. Although many of the gentry left the town during the Revolution, there remained a goodly leaven of prominent families who had taken the patriotic side. The population was chiefly of English descent. A type of manhood ruddier and more robust than we are accustomed to meet, was to be seen in the streets. The citizens managed to be as comfortable at sixty degrees Fahrenheit as we are at seventy, and knew little of dyspepsia and those disordered nervecentres which occasion their descendants so much trouble. Many of the peculiarities of Puritanism had been softened, and so much of the old se¬ verity as remained supported the moral standards which the God-fearing founders of the State had raised. A few men were accepted as the leaders of the community, and lived under a wholesome conviction of responsibility for its good behavior. If the representatives of good society were in no sense cosmopolitan, their provincialism was honest, manly, and intelligent. The usages of social intercourse were not democratic, neither was the senti¬ ment of the prominent families. If heresies were in the air which must at length modify doctrine, they might still be rendered harmless by a careful attention to discipline.1

Dress was an indication of superiority, and was fashioned quite as much for display as for use. As late as 1795, it is mentioned by a visitor from New York that "the broad aisle of Brattle-Street church was lined by gentlemen in wigs, with cocked hats and scarlet coats." Caps were often worn by gentlemen in the privacy of domestic life. Hancock is described as wearing " a red velvet cap, within which was one of fine linen." The blue damask dressing-gowns and embroidered waistcoats of the period are yet visible upon the canvas of Copley. As wigs were gradually laid aside, the hair was powdered and arranged with precision ; and as this took more time and trouble, it served to mark even better the aristocracy of the wearer. Lace ruffles, silk stockings, polished shoes, with buckles (which, being adapted to either foot, careful persons were accustomed to alternate), were essential to the correct dress of a gentleman. The business suit was of broadcloth, generally of a light shade. But on occasions of ceremony

1 [Griswold, Republican Court , p. 8, in giving a picture of social life after the close of the Revo¬ lutionary War, says: "In Boston there was un¬ doubtedly more real respectability than in any other town of its population in the British Em¬ pire ; " and we find not a few side-lights upon society here in the Voyages of the Marquis de Chastellux, who was here in 1782, and in the voyage of Brissot de Warville, a brisk little

Frenchman who landed in Boston July, 1788, and was disposed to see all the good, and who later, in 179S, as Chief of the Girondins, met his end on the guillotine. Talleyrand was in Boston in July and August, 1794. William Sullivan de¬ scribes him as of middle stature, light hair, sallow complexion, and blue eyes ; his body large and protuberant in front, his lower limbs small, and his feet deformed. Public Men , p. 03. - Ed.]

Social Life In Boston

1 [This cut follows a portrait of Sir Isaac iel, a collector of customs in Boston, and a Coffin by Stuart, belonging to Mr. William Loyalist, who left the town with Gage in 1776. Amory, of Boston, by whose kind permission Isaac was born in Boston, in 1759, in a house it is engraved. Coffin was the son of Nathan- on the east side of Rainsford Lane (Harrison brocades and velvets of bright colors made the costumes of the gentlemen quite as various and picturesque as those of the ladies. Official peisonages did not always avoid peculiarities of dress. Governor Bowdoin had ap¬ peared in red small-clothes, and Judge Dana wore in winter a white cordu¬ roy surtout, lined with fur ; and he carried a large muff. Crimson cloaks, white-topped boots, and cocked hats gave that pleasing color to a walk about town which is now supplied by the shop-windows. The judges of the supreme court shone in robes of scarlet, trimmed with black velvet, and only during the oppressive heat of summer exchanged this oppressive finery for the sombre dignity of gowns of black silk. At the funeral of Governor Hancock the court appeared for the last time in full dress. It has been said that the bearing of Judge Dawes, who was less than five feet in height, so detracted from the emblematic significance of the judicial trappings, that the chief-justice decided that the unadorned majesty of the law would there¬ after be more imposing. But a better explanation may be found in the visits to Boston of the Federal judges Jay and Iredell, who were content to ad¬ minister justice in suits of solemn black. The growing popularity of Gallic principles commended simplicity of dress to conspicuous functionaries of the State. The academic gown, nevertheless, was pretty generally resumed in the pulpit. It seems to have been discarded by the successors of the earlier divines, and looked so strange upon the clergy that it was mistaken for the surplice of prelacy, and the sneer was uttered that vanity had finally accomplished what persecution was powerless to effect. This, how¬ ever, was most unjust to the ministers, whose gowns were commonly the gifts of parishioners, and who were well aware that it was poverty rather than will which had led to the discarding of this dignified drapery. And there were reasons for reviving any good customs fallen into abeyance, which had their weight, even if not distinctly recognized. Independence in political feeling tended to communicate itself to social relations, and it was prudent to strengthen barriers while there was yet time.

Notwithstanding political embarrassments, Boston society took its sober amusements with relish. It went through its stately minuets, and livelier contre-dances, and consumed its solid suppers in rooms which in winter were made so cheerful by the glow of great logs that the flickering light of candles was not objectionable. When Jefferson, at the end of the century, added argand lamps to the various illuminations associated with his name, he initiated a deterioration in social intercourse from which it is not likely to recover. So long as artificial light was provided by tallow candles, re¬ quiring constant snuffing (for it was only the wealthy who used those of

Avenue, between Essex and Beach Streets), later in the war against us in the Carolinas. and was educated in the Boston schools. He After the war he settled in New Brunswick, entered the Royal Navy in 1773, and served on where he died in 1838, ranking then as lieutenthe American coast during the Revolution ; be- ant-general. Both the admiral and the general came a rear-admiral in 1804, and was made a cherished strong feelings of respect for their baronet the same year, and died in 1839. His old home ; and in later days Sir Isaac was brother John, also born in Boston, in 1751, was more than once a guest of his old townsmen, on the British side at Bunker Hill, and fought Sabine's Loyalists. - Ed.]

1 [This cut follows a portrait by Copley, formerly hanging in Faneuil Hall, but now in the Art Museum. See the note to the portrait of Sam Adams, in Mr. Porter's chapter in Vol. III. Two other likenesses, owned by the family, are noted in Perkins's Copley's Life and Paintings, p. 70. A portrait of Mrs. Hancock is given in

Mrs. ElleBs Queens of American Society , p. 119, with some account of social life at the Hancock mansion. Portions of the Hancock papers are in the collections of Charles P. Greenough, Esq., and of Judge Mellen Chamberlain, and these gen¬ tlemen have kindly allowed the Editor access to them. See note in Mr. Lodge's chapter. - Ed.]

wax), reading or studying in the evening were difficult matters, especially for aged eyes. Under these circumstances society was the resort for rational recreation and solid instruction. Its standards were established, not by the young and frivolous, but by persons of years and experience, who from constant practice became skilled in the art of conversation. I have little doubt that social dinners or evening gatherings during the last thirty years of the town exceeded in intellectual brilliancy those which have succeeded them. The conclusions of thoughtful men upon matters of current interest, now reserved for the magazine and newspaper leader, were given in conversation. Women of talent, although limited in what at present passes for education, cultivated their natural powers; and, being shut out from so many modes of influence now happily open, they made good use of the social opportunities which were accorded them.

There was a decided first circle in the town, to which the barriers were not easily broken; though, as time went on, fortunate individuals were lifted over them with some ceremony. Manners and personal decorations were indications of superiority. William Sullivan used to say that dignified civility, based upon self-respect, was a gentleman's weapon and defence. It was peculiarly so in Boston, where the duel, tolerated or justified in other parts of the country, has always been frowned upon. From the fact that lines of social demarcation were sharply drawn, there was an ease of inter¬ course among different classes which came from a recognition of mutual dependence. Mr. Samuel Breck tells us of smart and intelligent trades¬ men who were on terms of familiarity with their superiors in station. The shop of Balch the hatter " was the principal lounge even of the first people in the town. Governor Hancock himself would happen into this popular resort, ready for a joke or a political discussion with Balch and his com¬ pany." After slavery came to an end,1 the families of New England farmers supplied Boston with most of its domestic service. Long periods of faith¬ ful ministration made these attendants a recognized portion of the house¬ hold. They were called to its councils upon important occasions, and exercised authority over the children, among whom they were often very popular. The women who' came from the farms had little of the education derived from books, but a good deal of natural capacity. Their abundant resources in sickness, and their excellent cookery for those in health, were long remembered. They showed much shrewdness and tact, mingled with ineradicable prejudices; some of their sayings passed into domestic prov¬ erbs, from their aptness or oddity. Identity of religion was a bond of union

1 [Slavery was never explicitly abolished in Soc. Proc., April, 1S74, with valuable notes by Massachusetts; but in the famous Jennison case, Judge Gray. There are diverse views of the tried at Worcester in 1781, it was declared that intent of the Bill of Rights to abolish slavery, slavery no longer existed. Governor Washburn See Washburn's lecture in Massachusetts , and prepared a careful review of it, which was print- Her Early History, p. 224; G. H. Moore's Hised in the Mass. Hist. Soc. Proc., May, 1857, p. tory of Slavery in Massachusetts , ch. ix., and 18S. See also Amory's Life of James Sullivan, Hist. Mag., December, 1866; Chas. Deane in i. 1 14. Chief-Justice Cushing's original note- Mass. Hist. Soc. Proc., April, 1874; also Vol. I. book of this trial was printed in the Mass. Hist. p. 488, of this History. - Ed.]

between employers and employed. The same pastor directed both, and an occasional sermon to servants and apprentices was expected in the course of his ministrations.

Samuel Eliot.1

The sharp line of division between youth and age can scarcely be real¬ ized in these days, when there is no distinct order of old people set apart

1 [This cut follows a portrait of this promi¬ nent Boston merchant of his day, by Stuart, now owned by his grandson, President Eliot, of Har¬ vard College, by whose permission it is engraved. The President also owns the companion piece, by Stuart, - the second wife of this Samuel Eliot, Catharine Atkins, who died in 1829. Samuel

Eliot, who was the son of Samuel, the book¬ seller, was born in 1740, and died in 1820. The earlier Samuel was one of the publishers of one of Boston's earliest magazines, - The American Magazine and Historical Chronicle, - of which mention has been made in Mr. Goddard's chap¬ ter in Vol. II. pp. 409, 550. The younger Sam- its conventional expressions. In the family of Judge Ihillips, which in many respects was representative, the children were required to address their parents as " honored papa," and " honored mamma," and could never enter or leave a room where they were sitting without a salutation which recognized their presence. It was proper for a young man when writing to his father to salute him as " honored sir," and to repeat this stately title at the close of what he had to say, declaring, at the same time, the duty and respect with which he humbly appended his signature. But when postage was a quarter of a dollar a sheet, letters were confined to matters of serious concern, and formalities seemed more appropriate than at present. The use of a heavy seal, stamped upon a generous quantity of wax, was suffi¬ cient to excite a feeling of responsibility for matter that was so protected. Writing a letter had something of the impressiveness of making a will or executing a deed of trust. Even the town officers were mindful of the fact that the phrase, " servants of the people," correctly defined their posi¬ tion. A demand for over-due taxes, necessary to pay schoolmasters and mechanics the wages they had earned, does not call for much suavity of speech ; but the manners of the town treasurer towards persons who were neglecting the first duty of good citizenship could not have been bettered by Chesterfield himself. 2

Domestic discipline had lost little of its Puritanic sternness. The primary teacher was a long rod, with a human motor at one end of it. Prompt punishment fell upon the offender. The moral law was to be vindicated without puzzling calculations concerning the responsibility of the sufferer. The discipline administered by the hands of Judge Sewall is paralleled by that of a not less honorable justice of later date. People of intelligence have so changed in their treatment of juvenile offenders, that it is worth uel, the merchant, lived on the northerly corner of Tremont and Beacon streets, his grounds stretching up the latter street. It was the man¬ sion house which, soon after the evacuation in March, 1776, had been occupied by John Lowell, Jr. Eliot's dry-goods shop was on the west cor¬ ner of Wilson's Lane, Dock Square. (Drake, Landmarks , 56.) He was at one time President 1 of the Massachusetts Bank, and he also founded the Eliot professorship of Greek literature in Harvard College. His first wife was Elizabeth Barrell, who died in 1783. His issue by his sec¬ ond wife connect him with prominent citizens within the recollection of the present generation. His daughters married Edmund Dwight, Benja¬ min Guild, Andrews Norton, and George Ticknor. His son, William IT, the projector of the Tremont House, died in 1831, and was the father of Dr. Samuel Eliot, formerly President of Trinity College, Hartford, and lately Superintendent of Schools in Boston. His youngest son, Samuel A. Eliot, who married the daughter of Theodore Lyman, was Treasurer of Harvard College, and

Mayor of Boston. See an account of his mayor¬ alty in Mr. Bugbee's chapter in Vol. III. His eldest son is President Eliot, of Plarvard Uni¬ versity; and his youngest daughter, the wife of Rev. Henry W. Foote. N. E. Hist, and Geneal. Reg., July, 1869, p. 339. - Ed.]

1 [It was in the house (at the corner of Court and Tremont streets) of this Judge Phillips that Washington was received during his visit to Boston in 17S9. When the General left, a piece of ribbon was tied upon the chair which he had occupied, and there remained till his death, when a band of crape was substituted. - Ed.]

2 "The Town Treasurer presents his most respectful compliments to those citizens who have tax-bills unpaid, and requests the favor of them to pay the same to the collectors imme¬ diately, as he has large drafts from the Select¬ men and Overseers of the Poor in favor of mechanics, schoolmasters, and others, to whom, especially at the present season, money would be very acceptable." - Columbian Centinel , Dec. 16, 1795.

" When one of his sons, still too young to realize very distinctly the difference be¬ tween right and wrong, exchanged a knife he had borrowed of a servant for cake an itinerant dealer had tempted him to purchase, his father, learning the circumstances on his return from his office, investigated the facts, and then bade the child follow him to the stable. Selecting as he went a knotted stick, he first impressed upon the mind of the child a full sense of the injustice and criminality of his conduct, and, that he might not forget the admonition, administered a severe chastisement."

It is easy to condemn such heroic dealing with the faults of children, - easier, perhaps, than to show that those modern doctrines, which con¬ sider sin an infirmity of nerve element for which our ancestors and environ¬ ments are responsible, tend to lessen the power of that unpleasant factor in this earthly life.

Funerals were occasions of much ceremony, and all associations with the close of life were of a gloomy character. The doleful sound from the tombs, to which a favorite hymn challenged the attention, was audible in all the pauses of existence. The windows of the house which death had en¬ tered were closed for a long period, and the mourners nursed their grief as if to make strongest claim for the comfort promised in the beatitude. Those who lost parents wore mourning for three years, and widows never left it off. The dead were carried by bearers, and must be borne past the town house or through a portion of the main street. Nothing was omitted from the rites of sepulture which might add a pang to the pain of separa¬ tion. It is to the honor of Boston that here was initiated that system of garden cemeteries which has done so much to invest the close of life with soothing associations. The tender allusion to the gardens of Eden and Gethsemane in the poem of Charles Sprague, at the dedication of Mount Auburn, exhibits a feeling of which there is small trace in our earlier mor¬ tuary literature.1

As wealth increased, public amusements made their appearance. The evolution of the theatre through the " moral lecture " it is not within my province to notice.2 Shakespeare, in shreds and patches, preceded the ad¬ vent of the stage. A Dialogue on the Horrid Crime of Murder, by Mr. and Mrs. Smith , was the forerunner of the noble tragedy of Macbeth , which was played before the close of the century. For that large portion of the people who were unwilling to patronize dramatic entertainments other recreation was provided. Some of the shows of the day testify to the tastes of our ancestors, as well as to the resources of those who catered for their patron- age. At the Columbian Museum might be seen " an elegant temple of fame," tenanted by the waxen image of John Adams, " on cither side of him Liberty with staff and cap, and Justice with sword and balance." Con¬ fronting each other in the same plastic mateiial were the New Y ork Beauty and "the Boston Beauty," - the latter, it is to be hoped, presenting a suit¬ able superiority in charms. " Sir Charles Grandison and the beautiful Miss Harriet Byron " were represented as characters well known to all acquainted with literature, - there being as yet no struggle for existence in an overpopulated world of romance. Those who found that Sunday was not long enough to exhaust their interest in Scriptural personages might gaze on "David and Goliath as large as life; Goliath being twelve feet in height." Exhibitions of animals were occasionally brought to Boston. A porcu¬ pine, a bear, a raccoon, and a rabbit were announced by their proprietor as "very great curiosities." There was an elephant which, in conformity with the habits of the day, drank " all kinds of spirituous liquors ; " and the public were assured that " thirty bottles of porter, of which he draws the corks himself, is not an uncommon allowance." Neither would the pro¬ verbial "short life and a merry one" hold good in the case of this gigantic toper; spectators were informed that " he will probably live between two and three hundred years," - an announcement which shows that the effect of alcohol upon animal tissue was not then so well understood as it is thought to be at present. After witnessing these exhibitions our ancestors might refresh themselves at Vila's, the Shakespeare Coffee-house in Water Street, or the more aristocratic restaurant of Julien. If ladies were of the party, they may have visited a confectioner's shop on Newberry Street, where ice-cream was to be had. It seems strange that this refreshing article was seldom or never seen at private parties during the period of which I have to treat. But there was no system for storing the abundant product of New-England winters, and the age of essences was yet to come: we find the dealer in ice-cream using the newspaper to remind his patrons that "the fruit-flavors of raspberry, strawberry, currant, and pineapple" could be fur¬ nished only in the seasons of those productions.

In writing of life in Boston during the closing decade of the last century, it is impossible to omit some reference to the convulsion in France which so deeply affected the course of history in America, as well as throughout the civilized world. The opening acts of the French Revolution had excited general satisfaction, and it was confidently expected that our generous allies were to enjoy a system of liberty as rational as our own. If the cooler heads were sceptical upon the subject, they could not protest against the hopeful current of public opinion ; and, notwithstanding some untoward events, that current received little check until it culminated in the civic banquet of 1793. Two days after the execution of Louis XVI. a festival was held in Boston to celebrate the reign of righteousness which the revo¬ lutionists of France had inaugurated on earth. A New-England January is not the most favorable time for feasting in the open air; but the enthusi¬ asm was warm enough to disregard the thermometer. An ox of one thou¬ sand pounds weight had been roasted whole. The horns of the animal having been gilt, it was lifted upon a car twenty feet high; and, posing as " a peace-offering to Liberty and Equality," was drawn by fifteen horses through the principal streets. Two hogsheads of punch, each drawn by six horses, and a cart bearing a generous quantity of bread, made up the procession. A table was laid in State Street1 from the Old State House to near Kilby Street, and about this board the friends of Gallic liberty were to express their feelings over the beef and punch. I copy the words of a cor¬ respondent of the Centincl , as giving such a picture of the proceedings as the newspapers of the day saw fit to publish : -

"While the streets, houses, yea, even the chimney-tops, were covered with male spectators, the balconies and middle stories exhibited bevies of our amiable and beautiful women, who by their smiles and approbation cast a pleasing lustre over the festive scene."

It is unpleasant to add anything to this gracious record of the occasion, but it is nevertheless ascertainable that the banquet terminated in an uproar ; that pieces of the ox were thrown into the air, and were even directed towards those bevies of beautiful women whom the reporter had beheld so lavish of their smiles. While the multitude were feeding or riot¬ ing in State Street, a select minority of the friends of Equality, to the number of nearly four hundred, partook of a more elaborate dinner in Faneuil Hall. Here Citizen S. Adams acted as president, and Citizen Waters furnished the decorations. Among the devices of this latter gentleman appeared an obelisk bearing in front a figure of Liberty trampling upon crown, sceptre, mitre, and broken chains, a cherub holding wreaths and palms with appro¬ priate inscriptions, and above all "the benign eye of Providence" contem¬ plating with satisfaction the proceedings below. In the course of the commemoration a committee from Charlestown was introduced to announce that the citizens of that place would drink the health of the citizens of Boston at four o'clock, " whereupon it was voted that the citizens of Boston should return this compliment at a quarter past four, under a discharge of artillery." For why should not the heavens bruit again the rouse of demo¬ crats as well as that of royalty? The descendants of the Puritans seem to

1 [The upper view on the next page gives ter on the " Beginning of the Revolution." Then State Street very much as it must have looked at there are the engraving given in this History, the time of the jubilation in honor of the French Vol. II., 507; the copper-plate (west end), also Republic, seven or eight years earlier. The pic- from the Mass. Mag., July, 1793, and reproduced ture is in oils, and was painted by J. B. Marston on the next page and given in heliotype in the about 1801; and it is now in the Historical Evacuation Memorial; that in Shaw's Descrip- Society's rooms, - Proceedings, Feb. 1878, p. 38. tion of Boston, 1817, also in Hales's Survey of It is also interesting as one in a series of views Boston, 1821, giving the east end; that in Snow's of the Old State House, showing the changes in Boston, 1825, p. 280 (east end) ; and Salmon's its appearance. The earliest seems to be the view, 1832 (east end), with flames bursting front contemporary copper-plate of the Boston Massa- the building. The present French roof on the ere (east end), reproduced in Mr. Porter's chap- building is a recent modification. - Ed.]

have borrowed the temperament of the French as well as their symbols. Cloudless was the outlook for humanity, as the flowing bumpers were drained on that auspicious day. A bad omen was not to be tolerated; the resources of exegesis must make it a good one. When a balloon refused to bear heavenward a scroll proclaiming Liberty and Equality, it was happily suggested that, as the denizens of the air needed not these precious watch¬ words, they had graciously remained to bless the inhabitants of the earth.1

But the time for reason and reaction must necessarily arrive. The news of the regicide was at length blown over the ocean ; confusion had made its master-piece ; and the conservative leaders of the town began to be heard from. They believed that a poison had been introduced into the body politic which threatened to paralyze its members. The ideal of human brotherhood, still incandescent before a portion of the community, seemed to those who had hitherto directed its opinion to have become a flimsy sentimentalism. It assailed those degrees and etiquettes of society which give it grace as well as stability. The Federal party which struck its roots so strongly in Boston comprised, with scarcely an exception, the men of wealth, learning, and influence. The example of France seemed to them to show that the rule of the people must end in that of the basest of demagogues. They could not accept, for better or for worse, the tide of democracy which was setting in.1 It has been said that next to the noblest type of innovator, and scarcely inferior to him in usefulness, comes his high-minded opponent. It is certainly true that, because so much good work was done by the Federalists, the ideal of the American demo¬ crat may ultimately be practicable. It concerns me here to repeat - since the fact colors the manners of the time - that, notwithstanding the fine feelings proclaimed at the festival, the ruling opinion of Boston did not cordially accept the freedom and equality of the industrial classes. It is not the printed matter of the day which furnishes the best evidence of this sentiment, though even here indications of its existence are to be found. One example will suffice. The Centinel , in its issue for July 25, 1798, pub¬ lished an oration by Master Reed, a pupil of the Latin School. The young gentleman's subject was true and false patriots, and after instancing Wash¬ ington and several classical personages as examples of the former, he dis¬ poses of the latter in such terms as these: "We meet them at every turn; we read their productions in every democratic newspaper. False patriots are the street orators and Coffee-House politicians of every large town ; they are the Ciceros of the mob. They harangue the gaping Mechanic and the admiring Truckman ; . . . they are the vapors of putrefying democ¬ racy." Such expressions of course amount to nothing as the utterances of a boy; but they become significant when they pass the watchful scrutiny of the master, and are delivered and printed with his approval. The con¬ temptuous slur upon mechanics and truckmen, whose poorly requited labor made possible the holiday audience which Master Reed addressed, suggests the reason why Jefferson, with all his faults, better expiesscd the collective will of the nation than did the true and honorable Federalists who laid its foundations.

With the opening of the present century a season of prosperity for Boston had fairly set in. Her industries received an impulse, and the enterprise of her merchants was laying the foundations of fortunes which were as gener¬ ously used as they were honorably won. French influence was modifying social forms. Jefferson was inaugurated, and the term "French airs" was applied in mockery to the scant skirts and coiffure a la liberty with which the ladies were replacing the hooped petticoats and towering head-dresses in which they had welcomed George Washington to the town. Monsieur Alexandre Lavigne arrived from Paris, and was ready to arrange feminine locks " in the Greek, Flora, or Virginia fashions," while he would cut the hair of the gentlemen " a la Brutus," or " a la Titus," as their tastes might dictate. Breeches and stockings were gradually giving place to pantaloons, fitted close to the leg and passing into the shoes. Boots with yellow tops were worn by men of advanced years, while the younger portion of society affected half-boots made of elastic leather. The toe was pointed or flat, according to the age of the wearer; and "old square-toes" furnished the slang epithet which will always be wanted to deride the conservatism of the decline of life in its objectionable manifestations.

A satirical communication upon " Beaux," which appeared in the Centinel for April 23, 1800, despite obvious exaggerations, preserves some curious traits of the fine gentlemen of the period. According to the writer " the Frenchified American beau," as he was to be met in the streets of Boston, wore shaggy hair upon his head and a spotted linen kerchief about his neck, while his green coat ended behind in a mathematical point. It was his habit to drink brandy in the morning, while his conversation, even upon the ex¬ change, ran upon Parisian opera dancers. " The dapper beau " appeared with close-cut hair, the remaining stumps being twisted into curls. " His hat is about the size of Aunt Tabby's snuff-box, and is stuck upon the very crown of his head. In his hand he commonly carries a stick of wood, which seemsTo weary him very much, especially in summer." The writer had met " the college beau " in the vicinity of the Old State House, and perceived that he exhibited that state of inanition which is not uncommon in young gentlemen who are fed by academic contractors. The cakes and ale, which an expression of Shakespeare has made typical of youthful indulgence, the visitor from Cambridge seems to have craved in the narrow letter. He is represented as devouring the former in the shape of gingerbread, while " he guggles down a glass of ale at the old woman's basket." His costume is not particularized, but his hair is "plastered" and "well whited over with Virginia flour." But democracy has entered upon the scene, and neither triflers of leisure nor students of learning shall claim monopoly in the mat¬ ter of social fascinations. The account of "the shopkeeper beau," who is characterized as "the politest man alive," is well worth quoting entire: _

" He will spring at one. leap over a counter four feet high to pick up a lady custo¬ mer s handkerchief ; he makes the most handsome bow, says the most civil things, and talks surprisingly fast and sensibly about the odor of a roll of pomatum, or the vul¬ garity ol wearing our own hairs. In the day-time he is fully employed in displaying his drawers, boxes, bottles, needles, and pins ; but in the evening you may find him dancing a minuet with the lady whom he cheated of a half-penny a few hours before.

' Chaos has come again ! ' Among his ancestors he numbers many of the noble pro¬ fession of Vulcan, and his mother was a dealer in yarn ; but he has long since for¬ gotten his parentage."

Chaos has come again ! So it seemed to the respectable sentiment of the town. That unguarded exclamation measures the distance we have travelled since the author of those generalities of perennial glitter was seated in the presidential chair. Snobbishness, indeed, is likely long to be with us ; but, like vice, it has been taught to seek a decorous concealment. It dares not write to the papers because shopkeepers, " fully employed " during the day, and descended from men and women who did the hard work of the world, refresh themselves with a dance in the evening, and assume no position of inferiority in respect to the customers they have served.

As wealth increased, the noted hospitality of the town received a fresh impulse. Gentlemen and ladies from the South, - there was then no West,

- who took Boston on their return from the Springs, were welcomed with cordiality. Mr. Craigie, of Cambridge, sometimes entertained over a hun¬ dred guests at the brilliant Commencement festival, and a few families who had country seats in the vicinity gave dinners and receptions with great liberality. But visits to the country were by no means essential; for Boston,

- a town of gardens with the privilege of the sea, - was in itself a wateringplace. The boarding-houses were comfortable places of resort for travellers. Indeed, some of the finest mansions in the place, residences of the provincial magnates, had come to this use. " Boston continues to be thronged with strangers," says a letter bearing date Aug. 20, 1800; "Mrs. Carter rejects twenty or thirty a day, yet still keeps the moderate number of sixty in her family. After the warmth of the day is over, we form animated groups ; we had quite a romantic one last evening, sitting on the grass by moonlight, with the accompaniment of a guitar and singing." Fishing parties were con¬ stant during the warm season. " The gentlemen, sometimes by themselves, and sometimes in company with ladies," writes a visitor, " spend the day partly on the water and partly on some of the islands in this very delightful harbor. I have been at one of these parties, and assure you we had a high degree of social and friendly conviviality."

Under the influence of French thought and customs came occasional protests against the rigor of the Sunday laws, notwithstanding the fact that the Puritan observance of the sacred day had already suffered curtailment. In the assembly of [782-83 the country members had been strenuous for a Sabbath of thirty-six hours ; but those from the larger towns were mercifully disposed to limit it to eighteen, and the latter carried their point.

From midnight of Saturday till six o'clock the next day it was unlawful for any hired carriage to leave or to enter Boston, while during ser\ ice no vehicle could move faster than a walk. By a statute enacted ten yeais later, travel¬ ling and all secular employments, save those of necessity and mercy, were prohibited. It is doubtful whether these laws were fully enforced, though there is a story that Governor Hancock was once fined for taking a turn in the mail on his way home from church. In 1802 the selectmen proposed to enforce the edict against Sabbath-breakers upon certain persons who were in the habit' of bathing at the foot of the Common, and other places where the sea could be reached. The practice may have been objectionable for secular reasons; but of these nothing is said, and the inference was not un¬ natural that the law was evoked to deprive those who were confined to labor during the week of a refreshment which persons more favorably situated need not lack. A rhyming protest which appeared in the Centinel is char¬ acteristic of the undercurrent of thought, as well as of its methods of ex¬ pression.2 After sunset the restraints of the sacred day were relaxed; the children might put away their testaments and catechisms, and their elders frequent social tea-tables to discuss the sermons and the news. The ministers were at home to their parishioners, and there were informal receptions at the houses of prominent men. Caucuses and political gatherings were held on Sunday evening, a time which seems to us inappropriate to these purposes. Let us never cease to respect the good Puritan sentiment of which the custom was a relic. Our forefathers held that their duty to the State was only one degree less solemn than their duty to the Church, and that when the house of prayer was not wanted for the worship of God, it could be put to no better use than to hold a town-meeting.

As money flowed into the town, lotteries put forth their attractions as methods for investment. They were duly authorized by the authorities, and held to be an unobjectionable way of increasing the funds of churches, colleges, and academies. If speculation in chances was in itself innocent, it was not thought necessary to prohibit it on account of demoralizing ten¬ dencies. And so it came to pass that when capital was to be caught, no means were spared to popularize the lotteries and display their allurements. At a time when pictorial illustrations in the newspapers were almost unheard of, the advertisement of a new lottery was made seductive by such art as could be commanded. A representation of Fortune blindfolded, and bal¬ ancing herself upon a wheel, caught the eye of the most hasty reader. One hand of the goddess held a cornucopia, from which a stream of coins was pouring into the hat of an improvident young person who was reduced to that single article of clothing; in the other, the fickle lady brandished a scroll bearing the inscription "$io,ooo." Sometimes managers would avail themselves of that humorous exaggeration which has become character¬ istic of American fun ; and a note will show that its capabilities, as applied to advertising, is no recent discovery.1

" The General Court teems with petitions for new turnpikes and tollbridges ; the spirit of improvement may be said not only to exist, but to rage." Such is the contemporary testimony to the impetus from prosper¬ ing finances. New inlets were opened to the town, and water-carts were demanded, " notwithstanding the great expense." Boston was surely rich and public-spirited enough to lay the dust in the principal streets. And now was revived the project of opening a canal through Cape Cod, which for a century past had been advocated as a practicable means for promot¬ ing the prosperity of the town. " The threefold cord of Humanity, Interest, and Patriotism," writes a promoter of the scheme in the florid rhetoric of the time, " strengthens our obligation to the utmost exertion, and power¬ fully draws us to employ every means in our power which may facilitate and hasten the accomplishment of so desirable an event." Alas ! nothing but the unforeseen is certain to happen. We can picture the contemptuous incredulity of this enthusiast, could he have listened to a prophecy that capital would be forthcoming to bring the Pacific within a week's journey, and to furnish instant communication across the stormy leagues of the Atlantic, ere it would divide the sandy promontory in the interest of the commerce of Boston.

Property was now so generally diffused that the law limiting the suffrage to those holding goods to the amount of $200 was scarcely felt as a griev¬ ance. It is worthy of notice that in an appeal to electors in 1802 the Centinel recites the statute, not as restrictive, but as making the responsi¬ bility for good government well nigh universal. "We ask, What free citizen who has any habits of industry has not this property? Not one perhaps in thirty; for he must be poor indeed, and indolent to a proverb, whose whole effects will not be valued at this sum." No wonder that strangers enjoyed a visit to Boston during those halcyon days. The place was thoroughly prosperous, and its distinctive characteristics and local type of manners were seen at their best. Few were troubled by a vision of the time so soon to come, when public soup-kitchens must be opened, and a crowd of sailors, bearing the flag at half-mast, would visit the governor to demand bread.

Social gossip is always pleasantest when animated by feminine intelli¬ gence, and I feel sure that the reader will esteem it a privilege to look at

1 "A curioas machine has lately been ad- OBTAIN them! This last machine is in the vertised which will churn , scrape potatoes, rock a form of a lottery-wheel ; and if any dispute its cradle, and darn stockings! However curious superiority over the new invention, let them purand useful this may appear, there is another ma- chase a TICKET and try the experiment." - chine (old invention) which not only performs Columbian Centinel, April 13, 1802. all these things, but even more, - it enables us to

"Jan. 2, 1807. In the regions of fashion dancing still continues the rage. Private balls are numerous, and little cotillon parties occur every week. The dancing disease having gradually ascended till it reached the middle-aged, now begins to descend on which, being the first of January, was crowded and brilliant, - though not, say the fashionables, very genteel. The Theatre begins to be in vogue, because one Mrs. Hanley is the subject of discussion and dispute in every circle, being pronounced by some people of taste the most accomplished actress that ever trod the stage, and by others of equal taste as impudent, affected, and intolerable."

"Feb. 12, 1807. The night before last, as my cold was better, I ventured to Mrs. James Perkins's, who gave a ball to more than two hundred people. The company though large was not mixed, but consisted of all the respectable people in town, with their children, and in some cases grandchildren. It was very pleasant, well conducted, and perfectly satisfactory to all tastes. They had dancing for the young, cards and conversation for the old, and for those who love eating, an excellent collation of solid good things in the side-board style. If it were not too much in Colonel Caustic's vein,

I should say that there were very few handsome women there, that the young ladies were some of them too much caricatured in their dress, and that the beaux were not so gallant as those of the old school. But we know that a prospect appears different when seen from different eminences ; so the fault may be in my situation, not in the objects I saw."

"Nov. 24, 1809. Notwithstanding the gloom of our political horizon, the spirit of gayety seems to be awake among us. We seem determined to imitate our present allies and future masters by dancing away our cares. Mr. Samuel Welles's ball was splendid and tasteful ; it was honored by the presence of the most brilliant collection of beauties that has appeared in public for many years. The ladies were dressed with much taste ; the degree of light was adjusted with happy skill to suit their complexions. Trans¬ parent paintings, and lamps decorated with flowers whose bright hues were reflected from mirrors, gave lustre to the scene. The supper was highly elegant ; the table was covered with the luxuries of every clime and every season. Summer was robbed of its flowers and autumn of its fruits to embellish this winter fete. Fine peaches blushing with the glow of September, and a variety of melons, were preserved with great care and expense for this gallant occasion. The Turkish band in their elegant costume shared the honors of the night, and divided with the ladies the tribute of approbation. The grace of Peter in playing the cymbals and of Mrs. - - in dancing cotillons re¬ ceived equal applause. Mr. Welles acquitted himself with great propriety, and all went off with eclat, except the toasts, which were rather flat. The gentlemen were not prepared to be either witty or sentimental, and impromptus suit the genius of the French better than that of the English or their American descendants. Mr. Otis alone was happy on this occasion; his wit is ever ready. Some things* a little novel distinguished this fete, - such as a song in falsetto by Mr. Welles's servant, whether tender or humorous nobody could tell, as it was Italian ; but we are to conclude the handkerchief, and presiding at supper. In this new character he, however, acquitted himself well, except for a little mistake which defeated the gallantry of Mr. Welles in one of his arrangements. The tables, which were laid to accommodate three hundred persons, were ornamented with a profusion of flowers. Besides the natural ones, large vases were filled with the most beautiful artificial flowers that could be procured, con¬ sisting of bouquets, wreaths, etc. After supper the ladies were requested to select these flowers and wear them. It was intended as a sort of compliment, and to pre¬ serve the memory of the evening a little longer. As soon as this request was made, some very pretty girls began to ornament themselves with apple-blossoms, roses, etc., his own style, ' Look here now, this will never do ! ' Finding his exclamation not attended to, he jumped up, ' By George, this is not right ! ' and replaced the vase on the pyramid. This checked the whole business, and Mr. Welles had the mortification of seeing the flowers which he had selected as ornaments for so many fair damsels left for the servants, and poor S - got heartily laughed at."

" We had our usual circle, with the addition of the Miss Storers and one or two others. Some of the scenes would have amused you ; but they would lose their spirit

- - , and a dialogue between him and the same lady, and another with Mr. Buck¬ minster, were quite original. Mr. Davis invited - (an English gentleman then residing in Boston), for which his wife scolded him, and I seconded her; but he said the gentleman was sick and could not come. However, in the middle of the evening he lounged in. . . . One thing he would do, in spite of all the cold monosyllables with which his observations were received, and that was talk to me. Although I never saw him but once before, and never was introduced to him, he walked across Mrs. D.'s large room, and finding no vacant chair stood up before me, and insisted upon know¬ ing my opinion of a variety of characters and books about which he conversed very fluently, - though, I thought, very superficially. He embellished his observations with passages given in such a manner that,' if remembered, they might pass for quota¬ tions ; if not, they would be considered as bright flashes of his own genius. The most striking thing to me in his conversation was the address with which he practised this art. He appears, however, to have studied human nature with some success ; he is, I suspect, more profound in the knowledge of the heart than any other science, and flatters most dexterously. The confident expectation he seemed to have of making me one of his warm admirers provoked me, and I was very glad when he had exhausted the stock of materials which he had evidently got up for the occasion. I had some conversation with Mr. Buckminster and William Tudor, which I enjoyed more highly.

he did not know my sentiments, it was rather an unfair attack. However, if it was being too orthodox to believe that faith as well as good works were necessary, and that we should not rest entirely on them, but on the merits of our Saviour, for eternal happiness, and that the aid of God's Holy Spirit is necessary to enable us to resist temptation, I must plead guilty. I added that it had become the fashion to charge upon all who believed these serious truths the extravagant opinions of Hopkinsians and Methodists. The good Doctor then made some distinction rather too nice for £ my poor head,' as Sir Hugh says, which not perfectly understanding I could only answer by asking a rather simple though serious question ; and this the Doctor not being prepared to answer, he cut short the argument by walking away."

Thus the forms of social life were continued in Boston, while the Em¬ bargo filled the town with sullen rage, and the passage of the Enforcing Act caused a pretty general expression of the opinion that the end must come either in despotism or civil war. Of the deplorable consequences of these measures, and of the war with England which succeeded them, it is not my province to speak.1 But I cannot deny my readers a glance at the happy days which succeeded these events, and this they shall take through the eyes of a young lady in her teens, - from whose diary I am permitted to copy. On the evening of Sunday, Feb. 12, 1815, the writer describes a social meeting which had just taken place at the house of her parents. Noah Webster the lexicographer, Judge Dawes, then of the Municipal Court, and Mr. Wainwright (afterwards Bishop Wainwright) were the callers. When such men met, the distressing topic of the time was not to be avoided. The chances of peace were discussed and rediscussed, till at last it was agreed with sad unanimity that no prospect of an end to the war with England was to be discerned. What happened the next day shall be told in the words of the contemporary record : -

"Monday, February 13, 1815. - After breakfast all the bells began to ring. I asked mamma what it meant, and she said that she supposed it must be a town¬ meeting. Suddenly - burst into the room, exclaiming, ' Do you know what the bells are ringing for ? Peace ! Peace ! ! Peace ! ! ! ' We thought her out of her sen¬ ses, and papa went out to learn the truth. He soon returned and told us that it was indeed true, and that the whole town was in an uproar about it. We felt that we could not stay at home ; so we ordered the sleigh and set forth. First we went through Cornhill, then past the Common, and through the main street down to the North End. The streets were crowded : in State Street you might have walked upon the people's heads. Almost every house had a flag on it, and in some places they were strung across the streets. We then rode again over the town, and met several companies of soldiers. In the main street we met a company followed by three sleds, each drawn by fifteen horses. A man was in the front of each, with the word Peace printed in large capitals on his hat. These sleds were full of sailors who, just as they came up, gave a most tremendous huzza, which was echoed by the immense crowd about us. The ladies were running about the streets as if they did 'not know what they were doing ; the gentlemen were shaking hands and wishing each other joy. All this time bells were ringing, cannons firing, and drums beating. I never saw such a scene. The joy of the poorer classes, who had suffered so much, was quite affect¬ ing. When my father came home he said that the gentlemen had concluded to defer the public celebration, illumination, etc., until official accounts were received from Washington.

day morning at the Stone Chapel. We obtained seats near the altar, and were joined by Mrs. S. G. Perkins and her two daughters. The church was crowded ; and the presence of several British officers in full uniform gave ocular demonstration that peace had come. After the services we went to the balcony of the house of Mrs. Lowell, senior, in Common Street, to see the procession. Representatives of all the trades were drawn on sleds, with appropriate insignia, and carrying their tools. The brick-layers were building a house ; they broke their bricks and worked busily. The carpenters were erecting a Temple of Peace. The printers struck off hand-bills an¬ nouncing ' Peace ! ' and threw them among the crowd. The bakers, hat¬ ters, paper-makers, and others had each their insignia. At six o'clock in the evening we drove in the sleigh over the town to see the illuminations of all the public edifices and of many private houses. The fireworks con¬ sisted of rockets thrown from the roof of the State House, which was deco¬ rated with transparencies. On each side of the pediment was a pine-tree, and a star in the centre all formed of fireworks ; and as the star exploded the word ' Peace ' appeared. The cel¬ ebration passed off without accident, and was highly successful.

" February 24. - Last evening we went to Concert Hall to attend the Peace Ball. I had some hesitation about going to a public ball, but the occasion overcame my scruples. My dress was a sheer dotted muslin skirt, trimmed with three rows of plaited white satin ribbon an inch wide. The bodice of white satin was also trimmed with the same ribbon. I wore white lace round the neck, a bouquet, gold ornaments, chain, etc. My hair was arranged in braids, bandeau, and curls. The building was illuminated within and without, and was decorated with flags and flowers ; the effect was beautiful. The band, stationed in a balcony above, was playing as we entered. A platform sur¬ rounded the floor of the hall, and upon this we secured seats with Mrs. R. Sullivan* and Mrs. S. G. Perkins and her daughters ; we had much amusement in observing the

For The Puuljo

I H ASTEN to acquaint yon. for the information of the Public, of the arrival here thw afternoon of li. Br M. 1 loop of war Favorite, in which baa come pas-, ^*5^ ;V^r Amt-rican Messenger, having io hi* poaaesaioo

.Mr Carroll reached town at eight o'clock this evening. He shewed to a friend of mine, who is acquainted with him, the pacquel containing the Treaty, and a I .(tartan newspaper of the iiui date of December, auoouacing the signing of the Treaty

/ hare undertaken fo tend you this by Express' - the rider engaging to deliver it hy Eight o'clock on Monday morning. Tne expense miUbt dollars you ran collect so much to indemnify me / will thank you to dt> so.

Jonathan Goodhue Peace Extra.1

1 [We are obliged to Colonel W. W. Clapp for permission to copy this little broadside, some¬ what larger than our fac-simile, which made the announcement of peace. Goodhue was an emi¬ nent merchant of New York; and the express had come through in the incredibly short space of thirty-two hours. Josiah Quincy, who was at this time a member of the Massachusetts Senate, moved that morning resolutions of thanksgiving; and was made chairman of the committee for the celebration, which was fixed to be made on

Washington's birthday, as described in the diary quoted in the text, and which included a dinner at the Exchange Coffee-House, at which Harri¬ son Gray Otis presided. (Edmund Quincy's Life of Josiah Quincy , 360.) The victory of Jackson at New Orleans, gained before news of the treaty reached him, was not known in Boston until a fortnight later, and the Legislature passed their vote of thanks to the victorious general Feb. 28. See Bradford's History of Massachusetts, iii. 228 ; Barry's Massachusetts, iii. 420. - Ed.]

company. Several British officers in full uniform were actively employed in flirting and dancing, not in the most graceful manner : they seemed favorite partners among the young ladies. The hall being built chiefly for a ball-room, the floor had a spring¬ ing motion I never saw equalled. I danced several cotillons, contrary to my expecta¬ tion, as I was acquainted with few of the beaux ; and towards the end of the evening Colonel Sumner, one of the managers, requested my hand in a contre-dance. To dance with a manager was a distinction ; he could place his partner at the head of any contre-dance he selected. The Colonel, who was a tall man, and had something of flourish in his manner, led me through all the sets just formed to the further end of the hall, where we placed ourselves at the head of a dance, and went down it with great animation. We then left our associates to perform the walking part of the figure at their leisure. This was probably not much to their satisfaction ; but the manager must be obeyed. I was escorted back to my party, and after supper returned home, having passed a most amusing evening."

Further on in this diary it is noted that the excitement upon the resto¬ ration of peace by no means subsided with the celebration; and that Mr. Channing actually preached a sermon to remind his hearers that, though peace had come, there would remain an amount of evil quite sufficient to encourage the virtues of self-denial and forbearance.

The limits to which I am confined compel the omission of much which is illustrative of the subject, and a few remarks of a general character must conclude the chapter. Social life in the town of Boston, during the last forty years of its existence, was affected by the rapid expansion of thought which characterized the time. New beliefs refused to do courtesy to re¬ spectable customs, and those who had a position to maintain must be alert to deal with them as they appeared. " It is our lot to have been born in an age of tremendous revolution," exclaimed the sensitive Buckminster, " and the world is yet covered with the wrecks of its ancient glory, especially' of its literary renown." The authoritative barriers of thought had indeed been carried, and sober men had a natural anxiety about what might follow. It was impossible for the wisest to foresee the conservatism and patience which have been characteristic of American democracy. The advent of a national literature was delayed, because every intellectual man seemed to be wanted for some active function in a State where so many alarming elements were to be found. The best work was to be done in directing, if not in opposing, the new forces that were born into the world. But the good literature which our city has contributed to the present century has its roots in the old town. The seed from which it developed was faithfully sown by the pulpit, as well as by contributions to the newspapers from such men as Fisher Ames, Benjamin Austin, John Lowell, and others who were fully their peers. The standard of morals recognized in the town was in some respects different from our own. Justice was more conspicuous than humanity in the treat¬ ment of offenders. Executions were not only public, but were accompanied by a ceremonial which was meant to be impressive, but which we should not hesitate to call cruel and offensive.1 Four pirates, who were executed in 1818 in the presence of twenty thousand spectators, were the conspic¬ uous objects in a procession which moved through the principal streets of the town and over a route previously advertised, in order that no citizen might lose the gratification of the wretched spectacle. Social penalties, always important aids to good living, were administered under rules some¬ what different from those which now obtain. Drunkenness did not con¬ note the vices of character with which it is now associated. Scenes were occasionally witnessed at the tables of good and honorable gentlemen which would now be impossible among those to whom these adjectives could apply. A degree of license was permitted to men in their relations with women of an inferior caste; but the moment the conventional limit was exceeded a wholesome public opinion outlawed the transgressor. " A man may repent, and God may forgive him; but his fellow-sinners never will!" bitterly exclaimed one who had felt the ostracism of his generation for an offence of this nature. The speaker was a man of large wealth, much of which was left for public uses. Offenders to-day, whose financial posi¬ tion is so favorable, need not despair of obtaining condonement. The plainness or coarseness of speech which was permitted among our ancestors had little bearing upon morals. VVe are not called upon to assume airs of superiority because Judge Parsons thought Tom Jones a suitable book to present to a lady, or because the most courtly of Moderators convulsed a town-meeting with a jest of which these types can furnish no adumbration. If either of these excellent gentlemen could visit their descendants, they would be startled at our tolerance of customs which would seem to them in the highest degree objectionable.

The gradual extinction of that conception of the clergy which separated them as a caste pledged to austerities which their parishioners were not expected to imitate, has in many ways raised the standards of right living. Christian gentlemen, who saw no harm in taking their families to witness the performance of Shakespeare's plays, would have been greatly shocked had their ministers assumed the same privilege. But this arbitrary separa¬ tion in matters innocent or indifferent was too easily enlarged to excuse laxities which touched the foundation of morals. Few self-respecting men at present feel that such relaxations as they may temperately enjoy are to be condemned in their ministers; and the converse of the proposition, which requires from laymen the purity of life and devotion to high ends which characterize the clergy, must tend to become equally evident. It is only upon a superficial view that we can regard the beneficent influence of the sacred profession upon social life in the old town as greater than it is at present. No doubt it was different, and more easily to be measured ; no doubt that as authoritative expounders of theology the influence of the clergy has been steadily upon the wane: but if the conspicuous leadership of our religious teachers has been lessened, their service in the ranks has become more important. The growth of the community and the complex¬ ities of modern life have brought with them temptations of which our ancestors knew little; but we should be much worse off than we are if there had been any real decline in the moralizing influence of our min¬ isters in secular affairs. And because this influence is now subtile and unseen, and brings no special honor with its exercise, it should be acknowl¬ edged by those who know its value in strengthening the moral fibre of the community.

A devotion to the higher interests of its inhabitants characterized the later years of the town of Boston. It was rich in individuals who looked beyond the pursuits whose end was self-aggrandizement, and sought to dis¬ cover the pressing wants of their fellow-citizens, that they might labor to supply them. Our honorable institutions of religion, charity, and learning bear testimony to their zeal. We owe to them an inheritance which re¬ quires us merely to maintain, not to create, a reputation for public spirit and private munificence. They held a high conception of the duties of citizenship, and, according to their light, were prompt to fulfil them. The bitterness of their political animosities testifies to the honesty and positive¬ ness of their convictions. The intelligent Democrat of to-day must rever¬ ence the noble twelve years' work of the Federal party, and honor its vigorous and useful protests during the earlier part of this century. First, an honest opposition; then, a passive acquiescence; finally, a joyous sym¬ pathy, - this is the necessary sequence by which what is best in the old modifies and renders possible the ideal of the new. The Boston of a healthy Democracy, which our descendants may one day perfect upon the cherished site, will be deeply indebted to the good old Federal town that preceded it.

By Edward Stanwood

AT the close of the Revolutionary period, Boston was topographically what it had been from the beginning.1 Its three hills were as Nature had made and left them. None of the numerous coves and inlets that once indented the shores of the peninsula had been obliterated. The last century has been the witness of all the great physical changes which have wrought upon Boston such a transformation as no other great city of the world has ever undergone at the hands of man. Not a trace of the original coast-line remains. The levelling tendency of the age has been a literal fact, so far as Boston is concerned, for its hills have been cut down and its low land raised. The area of dry land has been much more than doubled, and Boston proper is no longer, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, a peninsula.

In studying the physical history of Boston, we have first of all to con¬ sider what Boston was when the changes began. The inhabited part of it was a true peninsula, almost exactly a square mile in area, connected with the main-land by a neck which was at one point extremely narrow, and widening as it approached the Roxbury line. The superficial area of the Neck, and the land which lay south of it, was not far from one fourth of a square mile. The whole original area of Boston proper is put at 783 acres. The latest survey makes the area of dry land in original Boston 1,829 acres.

Boston has grown in area not only by reclaiming land from the sea, but by absorbing neighboring territory, - first, by the annexation of parts of the domain of adjoining municipalities ; and latterly, by taking the whole, - extinguishing the separate municipal existence of the cities and towns absorbed. In this way South Boston (or Dorchester Neck as it was then called), Washington Village, Roxbury, Dorchester, Charlestown, Brighton,

1 [Compare the original peninsula, as indi- In 1789 the number of buildings in Boston is put cated on the map at the beginning of Vol. I., down at 2,639; and in 1791 the dwellings alone with Page's map of 1775, as given in Vol. III., numbered 2,376, with 18,038 inhabitants. Mass. and Carleton's map of 1797, given herewith. See Hist. Coll., iii. 249; and second series, ix. 204. accounts of these in the Introduction to Vol. III. - Ed.]

and West Roxbury have united their fortunes with their metropolitan neigh¬ bor; so that at present the area over which the city government has juris¬ diction is nearly 23,700 acres, or thirty-seven square miles.

The first extensive improvement undertaken during the period now under consideration wras the building of a bridge to Charlestown. Boston could be reached by the inhabitants of towns lying to the north and west only by circuitous land routes. As early as 1720 there was some discussion of the subject of connecting Boston and Charlestown by a bridge, but more than sixty years elapsed before the idea of this enterprise was revived. In March, 1785, a company was chartered to build the Charles River Bridge, John Hancock heading the list of incorporators. The company was em¬ powered to collect tolls (which were to be doubled on the Lord's Day) for a term of forty years, on condition of paying two hundred pounds annually to Harvard College, to compensate that institution for the loss of the ferri¬ age between Boston and Charlestown. Subsequently the right to take tolls was extended for thirty years, on account of the charter granted for the building of the West Boston Bridge; but the double Sunday toll was abolished. The capital of the company was fifteen thousand pounds, in shares of one hundred pounds each. The work was begun and prosecuted with great energy, and the bridge1 was opened to public travel on June 17, 1786, with as imposing a parade and ceremony as were possible in those days. A national salute of thirteen guns was fired at dawn from Breed's Hill, and answered from Copp's Hill, while the bells of both towns rang merry chimes. A procession, consisting of the corporation-officers of the town of Boston and most of the State officials and members of the Leg¬ islature, escorted by military, was formed at the Old State House, and marched to and upon the bridge amid the firing of cannon. The draw had been raised ; but at a signal given by the president of the company it was lowered, and the procession passed over, to the music of the shouts and applause of twenty thousand spectators. The line of march was through the Square to Breed's (popularly Bunker) Hill, where a dinner " fit for the gods," as one chronicler declares, was served to about eight hundred people ; and the occasion of " festivity and sobriety " was protracted until six o'clock in the evening. The enterprise was financially successful, and con¬ tinued to be so until the Warren free bridge was built in 1 828. Soon after that time the draw of Charles River Bridge was permanently raised, and the use of the highway was discontinued. In 1840 the State bought the franchise and property for $30,000, and re-established tolls for the purpose of keep¬ ing the two Charlestown bridges in repair. They both afterward passed into the hands of the municipalities of Boston and Charlestown jointly, and are now free highways maintained by Boston alone.

The West Boston, or Cambridge, Bridge2 was next built, by a company chartered in 1792, and was opened to travel Nov. 23, 1793. It cost ,£23,000,

1 ( A contemporary view of the bridge is 2 [A view of this bridge, taken not long after given in Mr. Edes's chapter in Vol. III. - Ed.] its completion, is in a manuscript note-book by and was an unfortunate speculation for its projectors. The Canal Bridge, now known as Craigie's, was built by a company incorporated in 1807, and opened to travel on Commencement Day, Aug. 30, 1809. Both of these bridges were sold in 1846 to the Hancock Free Bridge Corporation. At the end of January, 1858, tolls were abolished on both, and the occasion was duly celebrated by the city authorities and people of Cambridge.

Beacon Hill is still the most conspicuous landmark of Boston, although the last hundred years have witnessed a complete change in its form and aspect. What Beacon (or Sentry) Hill was originally, the readers of the first volume of this work already know, - a steep, rugged eminence, having three summits, the highest of which was surmounted by a beacon, which gave its name to the hill. It is to-day, although still the highest ground in old Boston, merely a gentle elevation, crowned upon its single summit by the State House, and thickly covered with private dwellings and boarding¬ houses. In the interval it has been shorn of nearly half its height and all its picturesqueness ; but no district of Boston has a more interesting his¬ tory, and by no means the least attractive part of this history is that of the period since the Revolution.

A century ago the beacon still stood upon the top of the hill. A part of the land forming its sides was owned by private citizens, and the rest was, or was supposed to be, the property of the town. At all events it was used as common pasture-ground. The beacon was blown down by a gale in November, 1789.1 The idea had already occurred to Mr. Charles Bulfinch, then but lately returned from Europe, where he had been prosecuting his studies in architecture, to remove the unsightly beacon, and to erect a handsome monument in its place. Accordingly, by means of subscrip¬ tions procured by himself it is supposed, he caused to be erected a pre¬ tentious structure, which was completed in 1790. It was a Doric column, resting on an appropriate pedestal, and surmounted by an eagle, the emblem of the new nation. It was built of brick and stone, encrusted with cement. The eagle was of wood, gilt. The entire height of the structure, from base to summit, was fifty-seven feet. On each side of the pedestal was a tablet, bearing an inscription.2

Robert Gilmor of Baltimore, preserved in the Public Library. It is taken from the Cambridge end, and shows the newly erected State House on Beacon Hill. See Isaac Livermore's Account of some of the Bridges over Charles River , 1S58. This Gilmor note-book contains other views of interest, namely, - of Boston, from Dorchester Heights ; Beacon Hill Monument ; the State House; the Mall, from the State House; Roxbury, from the Mall ; Charlestown, from the west end of Cambridge Bridge. - Ed.]

1 [It would appear that from about 1760 to 176S, views of the town lacked the accustomed beacon on its highest eminence. In the latter year it was re-erected, and remained till 1775, when Gage removed it in making a fort. After repossessing the town, the authorities replaced the beacon on the hill, fixing it in the centre of the British fort. Here it remained till blown down. - Ed.]

2 Those upon the north and west sides con¬ sisted of a catalogue of the events which led to the Revolution and of the war, while upon the south and east sides were carved the following felicitous sentences, the authorship of which has been attributed to Mr. Bulfinch himself. There is reason to believe, however, that Rev. Dr. Jeremy Belknap had a hand in fashioning them. He says he was consulted on the sub¬ ject. See Belknap Papers , ii. 233. The honor

This monument, upon the completion of which no public celebration took place, although the event was briefly referred to in the newspapers, was not destined to stand long. The hill was already doomed. Excava¬ tions had been made some years before at the northern base of the hill by an avaricious proprietor.1 In 1795 the work of building the State House was begun, and the preparation of the foundation rendered it necessary to make another unsightly2 excavation in the hill-side. From that time on, events tended to the destruction of the hill. In 1804 the Mill-pond Cor¬ poration obtained from the town the right to remove gravel from it to be used in filling the pond. A few years later the protracted litigation between the town and the Hancock estate terminated in favor of the latter; and about the same time it was decided by the Supreme Court that an owner of land upon a hill-side had a right to excavate upon his own property without being liable for damages in the consequent destruction of any building erected by the owner of adjoining land. In 1811 the town, being in debt, voted to sell the land it owned at the top of the hill, which was fast becom¬ ing inaccessible by the removal of gravel from the sides. The sale was accordingly made for $9,300 to Samuel Spear and John Hancock,3 and the

That ' Train ' Of ' Events Which ' Led

TO ' THE ' AMERICAN ' REVOLUTION AND - FINALLY - SECURED LIBERTY ' AND ' INDEPENDENCE TO ' THE ' UNITED ' STATES THIS - COLUMN - IS ' ERECTED BY ' THE ' VOLUNTARY * CONTRIBUTIONS OF ' THE - CITIZENS OF - BOSTON

WHEN ' FROM ' THIS ' EMINENCE SCENES ' OF ' LUXURIANT * FERTILITY OF - FLOURISHING ' COMMERCE & ' THE ' ABODES ' OF 1 SOCIAL * HAPPINESS MEET ' YOUR - VIEW FORGET - NOT - THOSE WHO ' BY - THEIR - EXERTIONS HAVE ' SECURED - TO ' YOU THESE ' BLESSINGS.

2 The appearance of the hill at about this time is described by " T. B." in a letter to the Transcript , Sept. 24, 1S55, drawn out by one of the " Gleaner " papers : " At my earliest recol¬ lection the appearance of the hill was this, - a grassy hemisphere, so steep that one could with difficulty mount its sides, descending with a per¬ fectly regular curve to the streets on the south, west, and north. On the east it had been en¬ croached upon, and' the contour was broken. Just opposite the end of Coolidge Avenue, on Derne Street, there was a flight of wooden steps, ten or fifteen in number, leading part way up the hill. After that, one had to climb the rest of the way by aid of the footholds that had been worn in the surface, along a wide path worn bare by the feet to the top, where there was also a space of some fifty feet square, worn bare of sod. In the midst of this space stood the monument. De¬ scending by the south side, one followed a simi¬ lar rough gravel path to another flight of plank steps, leading down to the level of Mount Ver¬ non Street, and terminating at about the po¬ sition of No. 13 Mount Vernon Street, the first house of those facing south. The sport of batting the ball up the hill, and meeting it again on its descent, was played by some ; but it was not so easy a game as one would at first sup¬ pose, on account of the difficulty of maintaining one's footing on the hill-side, which was so steep as to require some skill even to stand erect on it."

3 The divisions subsequently made of the Spear and Hancock estates are among the most remarkable real estate transactions on record. Mr. Bowditch narrates in one of his " Gleaner " papers that a brother conveyancer made it a rule, from which he would depart on no consider¬ ation, never to examine a title that came through anybody named Spear. In fact, all the Hancock titles were more or less cloudy ; but the heirs were willing to take what they could get. In 1819 a partition of Beacon Street lands was made between the seven children of Mr. Spear monument was taken down. The eagle was placed over the Speaker's chair in the Representatives' Hall, and the tablets were inserted in the easterly wall of Doric Hall, where they still remain. The excavation then pro¬ ceeded with fresh vigor, but progress was slow as compared with that of similar enterprises at the present day; and it was only in 1824 that the hill was levelled to about its present height, and the streets laid out substan¬ tially as they now are.

Each of the other hills, or summits, was afterward the basis of a large and successful speculation in real estate. Pemberton (or, as it was formerly known, Cotton) Hill became, by purchases from three owners between 1801 and 1824, the property of Mr. Gardiner Greene, the wealthiest citizen of his time, whose estate was one of the glories of Boston in the early years of the present century. Mr. Greene having died in 1832, his estate was sold a year or two later to Mr. Patrick T. Jackson, who purchased also several other es¬ tates lying on Beacon Street and Tremont Street (then known as Tremont Row from Howard to Beacon streets), and caused the whole to be graded and laid out. The material removed followed that from Beacon Hill proper, into the mill-pond.

The owner of the estate which included the western of the three summits during the Revolutionary period was John Singleton Copley, the distin¬ guished artist. His land was little if any short of eighteen acres in extent. It was bounded by Beacon Street on the south, and by the water, which then came up to Charles Street, on the west. In 1795 it was sold to Jonathan Mason and H. G. Otis by Copley's son, afterward Lord Lyndhurst, who came over from England with a power-of-attorney from his father for the purpose. Subsequent purchases by Messrs. Mason, Otis, and their associates in the speculation, made the " Mount Vernon Proprietors " the owners of all the land inclosed within a line starting near the corner of Beacon and Charles streets, and following the line of Beacon, Walnut, Mount Vernon, Joy (at first called Belknap), and Pinckney streets, as now laid out, to the water, including the flats west of the estate. Extensive improvements were under¬ taken. The hill was cut down, and the material used in converting the flats into upland. Charles Street was laid out, on made land, in 1803. The speculation was a highly profitable one to those who were engaged in it.

The first acquisition of territory beyond the original limits of the town was South Boston, known at the beginning of the present century as Dor¬ chester Neck. Although separated from Boston by a channel only a few hundred yards wide, there was no communication between the two penin¬ sulas except by means of occasional row-boats, which could ply only at high tide; but as there were only ten families then residing on the Neck,1 by one of his wives, and the share of each was ing eighteen inches on Beacon Street, and eighty one-two hundred and fifty-second part of the feet deep.

these were all-sufficient for the purpose. The total valuation of estates was but $139,200, all real. The town of Dorchester was extremely reluctant to give up this part of its territory, but it must be admitted that the value of it was not suspected until the proposition to take it away was made.

The annexation had its origin in a real estate speculation. Mr. Joseph Woodward had removed from Tewksbury, bought a large tract of land on Dorchester Neck and settled there, believing that Boston was destined to become a great commercial city, that it had not room for growth, and that this was the easiest and most natural acquisition. He persuaded some of the leading citizens of Boston - William Tudor, Gardiner Greene, Jona¬ than Mason, Harrison Gray Otis, and others - to adopt his views, and to imitate his example so far as to purchase lands upon the Neck. When once the scheme had been originated, it was carried through to execution with great promptness and energy. The transfer to Mr. Tudor was made toward the end of the year 1803, and the act of annexation was signed on March 6, 1804. The legislation was, however, not procured without de¬ termined resistance from the despoiled town of Dorchester. Numerous meetings were held, and the selectmen were instructed to use all their efforts to prevent the annexation. At one stage of the proceedings the town was offered the vast sum of $6,000 on condition that it would not further oppose the bill, and but for the opposition of an influential citi¬ zen the proposition would probably have been accepted. Subsequently the offer was increased to $20,000, but this too was rejected; and finally the bill was passed by the General Court, - the town losing its land with¬ out receiving any compensation whatever.1

Immediately upon the passage of the act land rose enormously in value. On the same day that the annexation was decreed by the General Court an act was signed authorizing the construction of a bridge to South Boston, as it at once began to be called. The corporators of the bridge company were William Tudor, Gardiner Greene, Jonathan Mason, and Harrison Gray Otis; of whom the two latter were the leading members of the association just mentioned under the name of the Mount Vernon Proprietors. The bridge was completed in the summer of 1805, and opened with a grand military display on October 1 of that year. Although it was located at the point where the distance between the two peninsulas was least, it was one thousand five hundred and fifty-one feet in length,2 and cost $56,000. There had been a contention as to the location of the bridge from the first, and the line was unfortunately chosen. Population was not attracted to the newly annexed territory, which could be reached only by a bridge connecting with Boston at the Neck. An agitation was begun at once in favor of a second bridge. This was resisted, of course, by the proprietors of the first bridge, and a wrangle ensued that only came to an end twenty years later. A charter for a free bridge was granted in 1826; the new (Federal Street) bridge 'was built and opened in 1828, and in the same year it was conveyed to the city. Its construction rendered entirely unproductive the property of the South Boston Bridge Corporation, which had never paid a return to its stockholders, and in 1832 the old bridge was sold to the city for $3,500, and opened free to travel.

The early growth of South Boston did not by any means meet the ex¬ pectations of the projectors of the annexation. In 1810 the census showed but three hundred and fifty-four inhabitants on Dorchester Neck. In 1825 they only numbered one thousand nine hundred and eighty-six. At this time, however, the city began locating reformatory institutions upon it, and this, with the construction of the second bridge, gave South Boston a new impulse. In 1830 the population had increased to two thousand eight hun¬ dred and sixty-five, and since then its growth has been rapid and steady.1

The first systematic and co-operative enterprise having in view the en¬ largement of the limits of Boston by making new land, was the Front Street2 improvement. An act chartering the Front Street Corporation was passed in 1804, as one of two companion acts to that annexing Dorchester Neck (South Boston) to Boston. The corporation was mainly or wholly composed of persons owning estates bordering on the water east of Wash¬ ington Street and south of Beach Street. The improvement consisted of the construction of a street generally parallel with Washington Street ; and the owners of the flats enclosed thereby were left to fill in the intervening space, each on his own land. The street was begun in May, 1804, and com¬ pleted in October, 1805. It was accepted in March, 1809. The cost of the improvement was about $65,000, which was paid by the persons whose estates were enclosed. About nine acres of land available for building purposes were thus added to the area of the town.3

1 South Boston has not always been con¬ tented under the municipal government of Bos¬ ton, and one manifestation of discontent deserves mention in this place as a part of the history of annexation, or as a sequel to it. In 1847 a me¬ morial (signed by Cranston Howe, S. G. Howe, Larra Crane, D. Nickerson, H. Montgomery, Samuel S. Perkins, C. J. F. Allen, Isaac Adams, Seth Adams, and Joseph Smith) was presented to the mayor and city council, demanding that " there should be a change either in its municipal relation with the city of Boston proper, or in the policy which has hitherto characterized that relation." The memorial was couched in very vigorous language. It set forth the area, popu¬ lation, valuation, the number of public and pri¬ vate buildings and their importance, and the fact that South Boston had "not only the capacity, but the actual material necessary for a separate and independent municipal existence." It as¬ serted that the union with Boston was purely artificial, and that there could be no good reason for its continuance except reciprocity of advan¬ tages. South Boston, they complained, derived no advantage from the union, but had been treated merely as an appendage from which profit might be derived by the central government, - "a Bot¬ any Bay," for the location of almshouses, prisons, and small-pox hospitals. The memorialists pro¬ ceeded to recite their grievances at length, and to ufge that a larger sum than had been appro¬ priated by the city should be devoted to improv¬ ing and lighting the streets, and to other objects for which no doubt expenditures were urgently needed. Whether this memorial, or the growing political power of South Boston itself, effected a change need not here be investigated; but cer¬ tainly in recent years that division of the city has had no just reason to complain that it-s interests were neglected.

8 The agreement of owners to build no struc¬ ture less than ten feet from the line of the street was probably the first instance of a restriction