USA > Massachusetts > Middlesex County > Old landmarks and historic fields of Middlesex > Part 27
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from its foundations, on the shoulders of a more youthful progeny, as if it were anxious to keep pace with the growth of the trees in its front, and still overlook its old landscape.
Of about the same length of years as its neighbor which we have but now left, this house was in ante-Revolutionary times first the abode of Richard Lechmere, and later of Jonathan Sewall, - royalists both. To the former, a Boston distiller, we have already alluded; but the latter may well claim a passing notice. He belonged to one of the old distinguished families of Massachusetts, and was himself a man of very
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superior abilities. He was the intimate friend and associate of John Adams, and endeavored to dissuade him from embarking in the cause of his country. To Sewall, Adams addressed the memorable words, as they walked on the Great Hill at Port- land, " The die is now cast ; I have now passed the Rubicon : swim or sink, live or die, survive or perish, with my country is my unalterable determination." " Jonathan and John " again met in London, - the former a broken-down, disappointed man ; the latter ambassador of his country at the very court upon whose niggardly bounty the loyalist had depended. Sewall came to Nova Scotia, where he had been appointed Judge of Admiralty. He married Esther, the sister of Dorothy Quincy, wife of Governor Hancock. Sewall's house was mobbed in September, 1774, and he was forced to flee into Boston. Old MacFingal asks, -
" Who made that wit of water gruel A judge of Admiralty, Sewall ?"
Sewall's house was at length assigned to General Riedesel as his quarters. His accomplished lady has left a souvenir of her sojourn, in her autograph, cut with a diamond on the pane of a west window, though we ought, perhaps, to say that the sig- nature is considered as the General's by his biographer. Un- fortunately, in removing the glass from the sash the pane was. broken, an accident much regretted by Mr. Brewster, the present owner of the premises.
Here the Germans enjoyed a repose after the vicissitudes. they had undergone, and in which we hardly know how suffi- ciently to admire the fortitude and devotion of the Baroness. The beautiful lindens were a souvenir of the dear Rhineland, - not unworthy, indeed, to adorn even the celebrated prome- nade of Berlin. The Baroness frankly admits that she never was in so delightful a place, but the feeling that they were prisoners made her agreeable surroundings still echo the words. of old Richard Lovelace : -
" Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage."
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They had balls and parties, and duly celebrated the king's birthday. All the generals and officers, British and German, came here often, except Burgoyne, between whom and Riedesel a coolness existed. When Phillips was put under arrest Gen- eral Heath recognized Riedesel as chief in command. Madame Riedesel had here an opportunity of returning the civilities of General Schuyler in a measure, by attentions to his daughter, who had married a gentleman named Church, and who, for reasons of his own, lived in Boston under the assumed name of Carter. Church was an Englishman, of good family, who had been unfortunate in business in London. He came to America, became a good whig, and, in connection with Colonel Wads- worth of Connecticut, secured a principal share of the contract for supplying the French troops in our service. After the peace he returned to England.
The uniform of the Germans was blue, faced with yellow, which came near causing some awkward mistakes where they were engaged. The poet describes the enemy's battle-array at Monmouth in this wise :-
" Britons with Germans formed apart for fight, The left wing rob'd in blue, in red the right."
The Baroness relates that she found Boston pretty, but in- habited by violent, wicked people. The women, she says, regarded her with repugnance, and were even so shameless as to spit at her when she passed by them. She also accuses " that miserable Carter " of having proposed to the Americans to chop off the heads of the generals, British and German, salt them down in barrels, and send one over to the Ministry for every hamlet or town burned by the king's forces. Madam the baroness, it appears, was not less credulous than some foreign writers that have appeared since her day.
The way in which the German contingent saved their colors after the surrender of Saratoga is worthy of mention. The flags were not given up on the day when the troops piled their arms, as the treaty required, but were reported to have been burnt. This was considered, and in fact was, a breach of military faith,
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but, being supposed to have occurred through the pardonable chagrin of veterans who clung to the honor of their corps, was overlooked. Only the staves, however, were burned, the flags being concealed with such care by General Riedesel that even his wife did not know of it until the Convention troops were ordered to Virginia, when the Baroness sewed the flags in a mattress, which was passed into the enemy's lines at New York among the effects of an officer.
The next of the seven families which Madame Riedesel men- tions as forming the exclusive royalist coterie of Old Cambridge was that of Judge Joseph Lee, whose house is still standing, not far from that of Mr. Brewster's, in our progress towards the setting sun.
This house has the reputation of being the oldest in Cam- bridge, although another situated on Linnæan Street may, we think, dispute the palm with it. Evidently the building now appears much changed from its primitive aspect, both in re- spect to size and distinctive character. Externally there is nothing of the Puritan type of architecture, except the huge central chimney-stack, looking as if the very earth had borne it up with difficulty, for its outline appears curved where its bulk has settled unequally. The west end is of rough-cast, and the whole outward structure as unæsthetic and austere as possible.
Judge Lee was a loyalist of a moderate stamp, who remained in Boston during the siege. He was permitted to return to Cambridge, and ended his days in his antique old mansion in 1802.
The large square house at the corner of Fayerweather Street is comparatively modern, belonging to the period of about 1740- 50, when we find a large proportion of the mansions of the Colo- nial gentry sprang up, under the influence of rich harvests from the French War, which gave our merchant princes an opportu- nity of thrusting their hands pretty deeply into the exchequer of Old England. Captain George Ruggles owned the estate in Shirley's time, but before the Revolution it became the resi- dence of Thomas Fayerweather, for whom the street is named.
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The house passed into the possession of William Wells, in whose family it still remains.
Having brought the reader a considerable distance from our point of departure, we at lengthi come to a halt and consult our guide-book of only fifty odd years ago. It tells us we have arrived at " the cross road south of the late Governor Gerry's, now Rev. Charles Lowell's, seat." This is Elmwood, the resi- dence of James Russell Lowell.
It is a pleasure to happen upon an old Colonial estate retain- ing so much of its former condition as this. It embodies more of the idea of the country-house of a provincial magnate than is easily supplied to the limited horizons and scanty areas of some of our old acquaintances. The splendid grove of pines is a reminiscence of the primitive forest ; the noble elms have given a name to the compact old mansion-house and its remaining acres ; and there are still the old barn and outbuildings, with the remnant of the ancient orchard. It is easy to see that the poet's pride is in his trees, and one lordly elm, seen from his library window, is worthy to be remembered with Milton's Mulberry or Luther's Linden. The grounds in front of the house are laid out in accordance with modern taste, but at the back the owner may ramble at will in paths all guiltless of the gardener's art, and imagine himself threading the solitudes of some rural glade remote from the sights and sounds of the town.
Of old the road, like a huge serpent, enveloped the estate in its folds as it passed by the front of the house, and again stretched along the ancient settlement of Watertown where were its first humble cottages, its primitive church, and its burial-place. It is almost in sight of the spot, now the vicinity of the Arsenal, where the English landed by Captain Squeb at Nantasket, in May, 1630, made their way up Charles River, and bivouacked in the midst of savages. Sir Richard Salton- stall's supposed demesne is still pointed out in the neighbor- hood, and at every step you meet with some memorial of the founders. According to old town boundaries, the estate of which we are writing was wholly in Watertown, and extended its
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fifteen acres quite to Fresh Pond, on the north; it is now within the limits of Cambridge.
It has often been stated that this house was built by Colo- nel Thomas Oliver (of whom anon) about 1760; but as the estate was only leased by him until the year 1770, when he acquired the title by purchase of the heirs of John Stratton, of Watertown, we do not give full credence to the assertion. The house is older in appearance, both without and within, than its usually assumed date of construction would warrant. More- over, in the conveyance to Oliver the messuage itself is named.
The house is of wood, of three stories, and is, in itself, without any distinctive marks except as a type of a now obso- lete style of architecture. A suit of yellow and white paint has freshened the exterior, as the powder of the colonial pro- prietor might have once rejuvenated his wrinkled countenance. The tall trees bend their heads in continual obeisance to the mansion, like so many aged servitors ranged around their mas- ter. Inwardly the woodwork is plain, and destitute of the elaborate enrichment seen in Mr. Longfellow's. As you enter the hall, which goes straight through the house, you see the walls are covered with ancestral portraits and with quaint old engravings, rare enough to have dated from the birthday of copperplate. An antique bust occupies a niche on the stair- case ; the old clock is there, and in every apartment are col- lected objects of art or specimens of ancient furniture, which seem always to have belonged to the house, so perfectly do they accord with wainscot, panel, and cornice. The reception-room is on the south side of the house, and behind it is the library. The poet's study, in which nearly all his poems have been written, is on the third floor.
In the absence of the owner our visit was brief, nor do we feel at liberty longer to invade his domestic concerns, or revel amid his household gods. Not to fright away the muse from the old halls, another well-known poet, T. B. Aldrich, takes his seat in the arm-chair and rests his feet on the fender. Taken altogether, Elmwood is an earthly paradise to which few would be unwilling to attain, and were we sure its atmosphere were
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contagious, we could haunt the spot, inhaling deep draughts in its cool and grassy retreats.
Thomas Oliver, the last of the lieutenant-governors under the crown, dwelt here before the Revolution. He belonged to the Dorchester family, and claimed no relationship with Andrew Oliver, the stamp-master and successor of Hutchinson as lieu- tenant-governor. The Olivers were of Huguenot descent, re- nowned in ancient French chivalry, where the family patro- nymic, now shortened by a letter, was deemed worthy to be coupled with that of a Roland, a Rohan, or a Coligny. Thomas inherited a plentiful estate from his grandfather, James Brown, and his great-uncle, Robert Oliver, so that his father did not deem it necessary to provide further for him in his will than to bequeath some testimonials of affection.
This dapper little man, as the crown-deputy was called, pleasant of speech and of courtly manners, was in no public office previous to his appointment under Hutchinson, - a choice so unexpected that it was currently believed that the name of Thomas had been inserted by accident in the commis- sion instead of that of Peter, the chief justice. But our Machia- velli, who had planned the affair, knew better.
One fine afternoon in September, 1774, the men of Middle- sex appeared in the lieutenant-governor's grounds and wrung from him a resignation, after which he consulted his safety by a flight into Boston. How bitter to him was this enforced surrender of his office, may be gathered from the language in which it is couched : -
" My house at Cambridge being surrounded by four thousand people, in compliance with their commands I sign my name, Thomas Oliver."
The house was utilized as a hospital after Bunker Hill, the opposite field being used as the burying-ground for such as died here. In opening new streets, some of the remains have been exhumed, - as many as eight or ten skeletons coming to light within a limited area.
The royalist's habitation became the seat of his antipodes, -
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a democratic governor, later vice-president, who resided here while holding these offices. Elbridge Gerry's signature is affixed to the Declaration of Independence, and he was one of the three commissioners sent by Mr. Adams to France in 1797. He was chosen by the Provincial Congress, of which he was a member, to attend the Gascon Lee, in his proposed interview with Burgoyne, who was to the full as bombastic, and who doubtless thought of his former companion in arms,
"Nay an' thou 'It mouth, I'll rant as well as thou."
As one of the delegates to frame the Federal Constitution at Philadelphia, in 1787, Mr. Gerry refused to sign that instrument, and opposed its adoption by the Convention of Massachusetts. The result was for a time doubtful, but when the scale seemed to incline in favor of the federalists, Gerry kept close at Cam- bridge, and his adherents made no motion for his recall. Han- cock, by the offer of a tempting prize, - supposed to be no less than the promise of the support of the Massachusetts leaders for the presidency in case Virginia failed to come in, - was in- duced to appear and commit himself in favor of ratification. Adams came over, and with the aid of Rufus King, Parsons, Otis, and the rest, the measure was carried. This scrap of secret history has but recently come to light.
But Mr. Gerry will doubtless be recollected as well for the curious political manipulation of the map of Old Massachusetts, which gave a handle to his name by no means flattering to the sensibilities of its owner, and notoriety to one of the most effec- tive party caricatures of his time. Briefly, he was the means of introducing the word " Gerrymander" into our political vo- cabulary. The origin of the name and of the caricature have been subjects of quite recent discussion.
The democratic or republican party having succeeded in re- electing Mr. Gerry in 1811, with both branches of the Legisla- ture in their hands, proceeded to divide the State into new Senatorial districts, so as to insure a democratic majority in the Senate. Hon. Samuel Dana, then President of the Senate, is
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considered the author of the scheme, which has also been at- tributed to Joseph Story, who was Speaker of the House until January 12, 1812, when he resigned. The bill passed both branches early in February, 1812, and received the approval of the governor. Under this new and then audacious arrange- ment, the counties of Essex and Worcester were" carved up in such a manner as to disregard even the semblance of fairness. County lines were disregarded and public convenience set at naught, in order to overcome the federal majorities in those counties.
The singular appearance of the new Essex district, where a single tier of towns was taken from the outside of the county, and Chelsea, in Suffolk, attached, caused a general outcry from the federalists. The remainder of the county was completely enveloped by this political deformity, which, with its extremi- ties in the sea at Salisbury, and Chelsea, walled out the remain- ing towns from the rest of the State. The map of Essex, which gave rise to the caricature, was drawn by Nathan Hale, who, with Henry Sedgwick, edited the " Boston Weekly Messenger," in which the geographic-political monstrosity first appeared, March 6, 1812.
At a dinner-party at Colonel Israel Thorndike's house in Summer Street, Boston, - the site of which, previous to the great fire of 1872, was occupied by Gray's Block, - this map was exhibited and discussed, and its grotesque appearance gave rise to the suggestion that it only wanted wings to resemble some fabled monster of antiquity. Upon this Tisdale, the artist and miniature-painter, who was present, took his pencil and sketched the wings. The name of Salamander being pro- posed, Mr. Alsop, it is said, suggested that of Gerrymander, which at once won the approval of the company ; but it is not so clear who has the honor of inventing this name, - an honor claimed also for Ben Russell and Mr. Ogilvie. With this designation the Gerrymander appeared in the " Boston Gazette" of March 26, 1812. The artist succeeded in forming a very tolerable caricature of Governor Gerry out of the towns of Andover, Middleton, and Lynnfield. Salisbury formed the
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head and beak of the griffin, Salem and Marblehead the claws. The design of this famous political caricature has been errone- ously attributed both to Stuart and to Edward Horsman. The word " Gerrymander," though fully incorporated into our language, has but lately found a place in the dictionaries.
Upon the death of Mr. Gerry the property passed into the possession of Rev. Charles Lowell, father of the poet, by pur- chase from Mrs. Gerry. The new owner greatly improved and beautified the estate, the splendid elms giving it the name of Elmwood. Dr. Lowell is best remembered as the pastor of the West Church in Boston, where more than half a century's service has so fully incorporated his name with that historic edifice that the church is better known to-day as Lowell's than by its ancient designation. Dr. Lowell suc- ceeded Rev. Simeon Howard, in whose time the dismantled appearance of the KOM West Church gave occasion to a scene LOWELL. not usually forming a part of the services. As a couple of Jack Tars were passing by the meeting-house on a Sunday, observing the remains of the steeple, which was cut down by the British troops in the year 1775, " Stop, Jack," says one of them, "d-n my eyes, but this ship is in distress ; she has struck her topmast. Let 's go on board and lend her a hand." Upon which they went in, but, finding no assistance was required of them, they sat down until service was ended. On their going out they were heard to say, "Faith, the ship which we thought was in distress has the ablest pilot on board that we've seen for many a day."
Elmwood comprises about thirteen acres, and is separated only by the road from Mount Auburn, where the mould en- closes the remains of two of the poet's children.
" I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn, Where a little headstone stood, How the flakes were folding it gently, As did robins the babes in the wood."
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James Russell Lowell, after leaving college, became, in 1840, a member of the Suffolk bar, and opened an office in Boston. In this he was true to the traditions of his family. His grandsire filled the office of United States District Judge by the appointment of Washington ; his father studied law first and divinity afterwards ; while his uncle, the " Boston Rebel" of 1812, was also bred to the bar. From another unele, Francis Cabot, the city of Lowell takes its name ; and those delightful intellectual feasts, the Lowell lectures, arose from the bounty of another member of this family. Mr. Lowell soon relinquished the law, and his arguments are better known to the world through the medium of his essays and verse than by the law reports. In 1843 Lowell joined with Robert Carter in the publication of the "Pioneer," a magazine of brief existence. The broad humor and keen satire of the " Biglow Papers," which appeared during the Mexican War, are still relished by every class of readers, - the Yankee dialect, now so seldom heard in its native richness, giving a piquancy to the language and force to the poet's ideas. We have the assertion of a popular modern humorist * that his productions made no im- pression on the public until clothed in the Yankee vernacular, so much is the character associated with the idea of original mother-wit and shrewd common-sense.
" Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The old queen's arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted."
The inquiry seems pertinent whether we are not on the eve of passing into a period of mediocrity in literature as well as of statesmanship. Prescott, Cooper, Irving, Everett, and Haw- thorne have gone before ; Longfellow, Bryant, Lowell, Holmes, Emerson, Bancroft, and Motley are descending into the vale of years, and the names of those who are to take their places are not yet written. The coming generation will perhaps look back upon ours as the Golden Age of American Letters, com-
* Henry W. Shaw (Josh Billings).
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parable only to the Golden Age of Statesmen in the day of Webster, Clay, Calhoun, and their contemporary intellectual giants.
As respects our catalogue of native authors, few, if any, have ever had their pens sharpened by necessity or dipped in the ink of privation. Most of them have been endowed with sufficient fortunes, gravitating naturally into literature, which they have enriched, to the great fame of American culture at home and abroad. Longfellow, it is said, is more read in England than any native poet, Tennyson not excepted ; Lowell is also a favorite there; and the works of Irving, Cooper, and Haw- thorne are to be found, in and out of the author's mother tongue, in the stalls of London, on the Paris quays, and in the shops of Leipsic and Berlin. Perhaps in the multitude of young authors now earning their daily bread in intellectual labor, some may yet rise on the crest of the wave worthy to receive the golden stylus from these honored hands, for in no one re- spect is the growth of our country more remarkable than in the enlarged and still increasing area of the literary field by the multiplication of vehicles of information.
Nearly opposite the Lowell mansion once stood the white cottage of Sweet Auburn, some time the home of Caroline Howard, who became the wife of Rev. Samuel Gilman, of Charleston, in 1819, and is widely known as an authoress of repute. At the age of sixteen she commenced a literary career with her first composition in poetry, " Jepthah's Rash Vow," which was followed by other efforts in prose and verse. Per- haps her best-known work is the "Recollections of a Southern Matron."
Miss Howard was the daughter of Samuel Howard, a ship- wright of North Square, Boston. Her father dying in her in- fancy, Caroline came to live with her mother at Sweet Auburn, whose wild beauty impressed her young mind with whatever of poetic fire she may have possessed. Indeed, it is her own admission that her childhood days, passed in wandering amid the tangled groves, making rustic thrones and couches of moss, stamped her highly imaginative temperament with its subtle
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influences. In girlhood she was fairy-like ; her long oval face, from which the clustering curls were parted, having a deeply peacefully contemplative expression. She was a frequent vis- itor at Governor Gerry's, where she found books to feed, if not to satisfy, her cravings. Owing to changes of residence, her education was indifferent ; but her mind tended most naturally to the beautiful, music and drawing superseding the multipli- cation-table. When she was about fifteen she walked, every week, four miles to Boston, to take lessons in French.
We close our chapter, a little out of the order of chronology, with a fragment of revolutionary history, which subtracts noth- ing from the interest of Elmwood. When, on the twenty- first of April, about noon, intelligence reached New Haven of the Battle of Lexington, the local militia company was immediately called out by its captain, Benedict Arnold, and forty of its members assented to his proposal to march at once to join the American army as volunteers. They left New Haven the next day. On the way they passed through Pom- fret, and were joined by General Israel Putnam. Arriving at Cambridge, they were quartered in the " splendid mansion of Lieutenant-Governor Oliver." This was the only company on the ground completely uniformed and equipped; and, owing to its soldier-like appearance, it was selected to deliver the body of a British officer who had died of wounds received at Lexington. The company remained three weeks in Cambridge, when, with the exception of twelve of its number, who accom- panied Arnold on his adventurous expedition to Canada, it returned to New Haven.
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