USA > Massachusetts > Middlesex County > Old landmarks and historic fields of Middlesex > Part 32
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37
Ascending to Hawthorne's watch-tower of genius, the eye is first arrested by two cupboards of stained wood, standing on either side of the single window with which the rear wall is furnished. These closets are each decorated with a motto in white paint, as follows : " All care abandon ye that enter here "; "There is no joy but calm." Above the window is the one word, "Olympus." This, then, thought we, is the abode of the gods, - the summit sung by Homer and the poets. En- closing the stairs is a pine box with such a movable shelf as is sometimes seen in a country school-house, appropriated to the village pedagogue. This was Hawthorne's desk, at which he is said to have written " Septimius Felton," the last of his works. Perched upon a high stool, with his back to the landscape, and his face resolutely turned towards his blank wall of stained deal, we may picture the sorcerer, with massive, careworn brow and features of the true Puritan stamp, tracing the horoscope of his fleshless creations. The house having now become a boarding- school for young ladies, kept by Miss Pratt, the study is appro-
375
LEXINGTON TO CONCORD.
priated as a sleeping-apartment for school-girls, whose dreams are not disturbed by its former celestial occupants.
Franklin Pierce, the college chum of Hawthorne at Bowdoin, came here to visit his old friend, whom he had given a highly lucrative appointment abroad. The " Scarlet Letter " was pro- duced while Hawthorne was surveyor of the port of Salem under General Miller, the old hero of Lundy's Lane. With his intimates, in the days of his custom-house experience, - and they were confined to a chosen few, - he was less taciturn than he afterwards became. But even among these he often appeared absent, gloomy, and misanthropical, as if some disap- pointment weighed upon him and had despoiled him of his young manhood.
Our author is one of those figures best contemplated from a distant stand-point, as some tall peak, lifting itself above its lesser companions from afar, sinks into the general mass at a nearer approach, giving no token of the subterranean fires that glow within its foundations. We know him better by his works than by actual contact with himself, but we have not had in America a mind of so antique a stamp as his, even if his imaginings are something weird, and his characters partake largely of the attributes of spectres who walk the earth because the master wills it.
Some of Hawthorne's productions, when a lad of fourteen, and thought to be authentic, have lately come to light. It ap- pears that his literary tastes were first stimulated by an uncle, the brother of his mother, who resided at Raymond, Maine, whither Mrs. Hawthorne had removed after her husband's death, at Havana, of yellow-fever. These early effusions, which are descriptive of some of the events of his life in Maine, do not exhibit any of those flashes of genius for which the man was famous, although excellent pieces of composition for a youth in his teens. Hawthorne there speaks of the spur which his Uncle Richard's praises gave him.
Hawthorne's intellect was too fine for the multitude. His plane did not conduct to the popular heart. His writings teem with sombre tints, and oftenest lead to a tragic termination ;
376
HISTORIC FIELDS AND MANSIONS OF MIDDLESEX.
but his fancies are always striking and his descriptions often marvellous. He seemed to walk apart, in an atmosphere of his own, seldom, if ever, giving note of what was within. Burns was an exciseman, and Hawthorne a gauger. Both were given to convivial indulgence, but the Scotsman's mood was in gen- eral less gloomy than the American's.
Adjoining Hawthorne's are the house and grounds of A. Bronson Alcott. Curtis has indulged in some quiet pleasantry at the expense of the practical cast of the philosopher's mind as applied to rural architecture, but for our own part, after having trampled half New England under foot, we can commend the taste which Alcott has applied to the restoration of his dwelling. Not so, however, with the rustic fence which separates his do- main from the road. It appears to have been composed of the relics of sylvan surgery, the pieces being selected with reference to knobs, fungi, and excrescences. This is not what we should call putting one's best foot foremost by any means. Who likes to think of a Dryad with a wart on her nose, or a woodland nymph with a hump ?
Apropos of trees, they bear their ills as well as poor human- ity. Go into the forest and see how many are erect and robust and how many bent and sickly. One in a hundred, perhaps, is a perfect specimen, the remaining ninety and nine are subject to some blemish. Nevertheless we do not advocate the collec- tion of the diseased members by the wayside.
Alcott has been, and still is, a pattern of industry. He is one of the few men who have kept a daily journal of passing events, in itself a work of no small labor and value. A walking ency- clopædia, he is frequently consulted for a date or an incident. "I wish," said Webster, " I had kept a record of my life." And who does not echo the wish ?
When Alcott was keeping school at Cheshire, in Connecticut, the fame of his original plan of instruction came to the knowl- edge of the late Samuel J. May, who invited him to visit him, in order to know more of the man whom he felt assured must be a genius. The result of this visit was an attachment be- tween Mr. Alcott and Mr. May's sister, Abigail, which led to their marriage in 1830. Says Mr. May : -
377
LEXINGTON TO CONCORD.
" I have never, but in one other instance, been so completely taken possession of by any man I have ever met in life. He seemed to me like a born sage and saint. He was radical in all matters of reform ; went to the root of all things, especially the subjects of education, mental and moral culture. If his biography shall ever be written by one who can appreciate him, and especially if his voluminous writings shall be properly published, it will be known how unique he was in wisdom and purity."
It is well known that Alcott was among the little band of antislavery reformers, or agitators, as they were called twenty odd years ago. So deeply was he impressed with the wicked- ness of supporting a government which recognized slavery, that he refused to pay his poll-tax. As a consequence, one day an officer came with a warrant and arrested the philosopher. His loving wife soon packed a little tin pail of provisions, adapted to the wants of a vegetarian in seclusion, with which Alcott contentedly trudged off to jail. Arrived here, the officer de- livered his prisoner up, but the person in charge, astonished to see Alcott there, invited him to sit down in the waiting-room until his cell could be made ready. Word was then sent to one of Alcott's friends, said to be Samuel Hoar, who came forward and paid the tax. Whereat Alcott waxed indignant, for he was as anxious to get into jail as most men would be to get out of it. He stood on high moral, if not financial grounds, and had no idea of rendering unto Cæsar the sinews of evil. So the example was lost, the wheels of government moved on un- clogged, and Alcott mournfully returned to his home.
At the time of this episode the idea of communities was a fa- vorite project with the transcendentalists. Brook Farm did not go far enough for philosophers of the ultra school, like Emerson and Alcott. They carried individualism to the point which per- mits the citizen to choose, absolutely, the form of government under which he shall live. They refused animal food, agreed by tacit league and covenant not to make use of the products of slavery or pay taxes, and believed they could get along without money. The experiment at Harvard resulted, and was in less than a year abandoned by its projectors, who may, nevertheless,
378
HISTORIC FIELDS AND MANSIONS OF MIDDLESEX.
claim the merit of having put their design into actual execution while others have only dreamed and talked.
Alcott, with the other reformers, has realized that society is not to be improved by seceding from it. He and they are now at work within the hive, talking, writing, printing, and making use of the appliances they were once so ready to surrender. Alcott is above six feet, and but little bent, although he has exceeded his threescore and ten. His silver hairs and dignified appearance render him an object of respectful curiosity, whom few pass without turning for a second glance at his tall figure. He speaks with earnestness and simplicity, conveying the idea of a man thoroughly honest in his convictions, pure in his motives, and faithful in his friendships.
Alcott inhabits an old house, which he has made very com- fortable without destroying its distinctive antique character. His grounds reach back into the hillside, which here seems in- dented on purpose for a romantic little dell. The authoress of " Little Women " has, we are told, christened the place " Apple Slump," wherefore, O reader, demand of the sibyl, not of us. Two patriarchal elms, with rustic seats at the foot, are the guardians of Alcott's home, -just such a one in which you would look for an honest, hearty welcome, and find it.
One of Mr. Alcott's daughters, Louisa May, has made a broad and strong mark with her pen. The world knows from her that there are old-fashioned girls with hearts and brains, and little women with great souls. Another daughter, May Alcott, has taken up the pencil with much promise. The young ar- tist's little nook of a studio, to which we were admitted, had been transformed by household exigencies into purposes rather grosser than those of art, but by no means to be despised on that account. Some of her sketches on the walls and a glance into her portfolio reveal talent and industry, either of which may deserve, while both together are certain to command, success.
At the intersection of the Lexington with the old Boston road is Ralph Waldo Emerson's dwelling, built in 1828 by Charles Coolidge, grandson of Joseph Coolidge, one of the mag- nates of the West End of Old Boston, where he had a fine
379
LEXINGTON TO CONCORD.
estate. It is a coincidence which led Samuel Parkman, another old-time resident of Bowdoin Square in that town, to inhabit the ancient rough-cast house which stands somewhat farther on by the burying-ground. The Coolidge house passed into Mr. Emerson's possession in 1835. It is a plain, square building, painted a light color, which you would pass without notice un- less apprised of its distinguished occupant. By some accident the house was badly injured by fire, but has, during Mr. Emer- son's late absence in Europe, been skilfully restored to its for- mer appearance.
In the grove of pines which stands at the extremity of Mr. Emerson's grounds, Alcott erected with his own hands the summer-house which Curtis says was not technically based and pointed, but which he still speaks of with evident pride. As no vestiges of it now remain, we infer that it fulfilled the adverse destiny predicted for it.
There is amusement and instruction in the story of how, at Emerson's suggestion, Hawthorne, Alcott, Thoreau, and Curtis met at his house for mutual interchange of ideas. The plan was excellent, the failure complete. The elements for spark- ling wit or brilliant thought were there, but the combination would not take place. In vain Emerson, with his keen and polished lance, struck the shield of each with its point. Only a dull thud resulted, instead of the expected coruscation. Haw- thorne was mute, while the rest struggled manfully but in vain to produce the ethereal spark. Three Mondays finished the club.
Some of Mr. Emerson's pupils, when he kept school in the old house at Cambridge, are now white-haired men, who recall with a smile how, for discipline's sake, they were sometimes sent into the Widow Emerson's room to study. As a teacher he was mild and gentle, leaving agreeable impressions on the minds of his scholars. The school was in Brattle Street, oppo- site the Brattle House.
Thoreau, the hermit-naturalist, lived in a house built by him- self in 1845 on the shore of Walden Pond, his literary friends helping him one afternoon to raise it. It is said he never went to church, never voted, and never paid a tax in the State ; for
380
HISTORIC FIELDS AND MANSIONS OF MIDDLESEX.
which contempt of the tax-gatherer he passed at least one night in jail. It is evident from his writings that Thoreau gloried in Nature, and that his soul expanded while he communed with her. She was his meat and drink. He craved no other society, putting to flight in his own person the crystallized idea that man is a gregarious animal. He calls upon hill and stream as if they would reply, and in truth the Book of Nature was never shut to him. A revival of interest in the character of Thoreau is manifest, an interest which no man is better able to satisfy than his friend Channing.
George William Curtis was for a time a resident of Concord, and Lieutenant Derby, better remembered as "John Phoenix," beyond comparison the keenest of our American humorists, it is said some time tended a shop here. Frederick Hudson, author of " Journalism in America," was also an inhabitant of this town.
Concord, on the day of invasion in 1775, although a place of considerable importance, contained but few houses scattered over a wide area. The old meeting-house, similar in appear- ance to the one at Lexington, stood in its present position. A square building at the corner of Main Street and the Com- mon, was then known as Wright's Tavern, and was the alarm- post of the provincials. This house alone, of those standing along this side of the Square at that time, is still remaining. On the opposite corner of Main Street, where is now the Mid- dlesex Hotel, was Dr. Minott's residence. Between this and the engine-house, on ground now lying between the latter and the priest's house (formerly known as the county house), was the old court-house, built in 1719, a square building with little old-fashioned belfry, steeple, and weather-vane, bearing the date of 1673. The northerly end of the public square was occupied by the residence of Colonel Shattuck, which, with some altera- tion, is still on the same spot. This brings us to the point of the hill, previously described, around which the road wound to the river, which it passed by the North Bridge. At this point, where the road diverges from the Square, Mr. Keyes's house formerly stood. Since 1794 the court-house has occupied the side of the Square opposite its old location, while the jail was
381
LEXINGTON TO CONCORD.
removed from its situation on Main Street to its late site in the rear of and between the Middlesex Hotel and the priest's. The house described as Minott's became, after the war, a tavern kept by John Richardson of Newton. At no great distance from the soldiers' monument stands a magnificent elm, which once served as the whipping-post to which culprits were tied up.
Main Street, which we now propose to follow a certain dis- tance, conducted towards the South Bridge which crossed the river by Hosmer's. In 1775 it was merely a causeway leading to the grist-mill which then stood on the spot now occupied by Mr. Collyer, next the Bank and opposite Walden Street. A few steps farther and you reach the second of the burial- places in the town, in which lie the remains of gallant John Hosmer, who, "although in arms at the battle of Concord and a soldier of the Continental Army, was in all his life after a man of peace." Beyond the burying-ground was the second situation of the jail built here in 1770. It was a wooden build- ing with gambrel roof, standing on the estate of Mr. Reuben Rice. On the same estate was the old tavern formerly known as Hartwell Bigelow's. Prior to the erection of the first jail in 1754, prisoners were confined in Cambridge and Charlestown. Concord, having ceased to be one of the shire towns of Middle- sex, now contains neither jail nor malefactors.
In 1775 the tavern mentioned as Bigelow's was kept by Captain Ephraim Jones, who had also charge of the jail. Gen- eral Gage wrote home to England that the people of Concord were "sulky" while his troops were breaking open their houses, flinging their property into the mill-pond, and killing their friends and neighbors ! Of what stuff the inhabitants of Con- cord were made in the estimation of the king's officer we are unable to conjecture, but we have his word for it that they were "sulky, and one of them even struck Major Pitcairn." Ephraim Jones was the man. He should have a monument for the blow.
Pitcairn went straight to Jones's tavern, where he had often lodged, sometimes in disguise. This time he found the door shut and fastened. As Jones refused to open, Pitcairn ordered
382
HISTORIC FIELDS AND MANSIONS OF MIDDLESEX.
his grenadiers to break down the door, and, being the first to enter, rushed against Jones with such violence as to overthrow the unlucky innkeeper, who was put under guard in his own bar, while Pitcairn, with a pistol at his breast, commanded him to divulge the places where the stores were concealed. The crestfallen Boniface led the way to the prison, where the British were surprised to find three 24-pounders in the yard, completely furnished with everything necessary for mounting. The Major destroyed the carriages, knocked off the trunnions of the guns ; and then, feeling his usual good-humor return with certain gnawings of his stomach, retraced his steps to the tavern and demanded breakfast, of which he ate heartily and for which he paid exactly. Jones resumed his rôle of innkeeper, and found his revenge in the transfer of many silver shillings bearing King George's effigy from the breeches pockets of the king's men to his own greasy till.
The jail is also connected with another incident of interest. A battalion of the 71st Highlanders, which had sailed from Glasgow in the George and Annabella transports, entered Bos- ton Bay, after a passage of seven weeks, during which they had not spoken a single vessel to apprise them of the evacuation. They were attacked in the bay by privateers, which they beat off after being engaged from morning until evening. The trans- ports then boldly entered Nantasket Road, where one of our batteries gave them the first intimation that the port was in possession of the Americans. After a gallant resistance the ves- sels were forced to strike their colors. The Highlanders, under the orders of their lieutenant-colonel, Archibald Campbell, fought with intrepidity, losing their major, Menzies, and seven privates killed, besides seventeen wounded. Menzies was buried in Boston with the honors of war, and Campbell sent a prisoner to Reading, while the men were distributed among the interior towns for safety.
This regiment, raised at the commencement of the American war, was one of the most famous levied among the Highland clans. It was composed of two battalions, each twelve hundred strong, and was commanded by Simon Fraser, the son of that
383
LEXINGTON TO CONCORD.
Lord Lovat who had been beheaded in 1747 for supporting the Pretender's cause. Each battalion was completely officered, and commanded by a colonel. Another Simon Fraser was colonel of the second battalion, - the same of which the larger number were captured in Boston Bay.
There was a great desire to enlist in this new regiment, more men offering than could be accepted. One company of one hundred and twenty men had been raised on the forfeited estate of Cameron of Lochiel, which he was to command. Lochiel was ill in London, and unable to join. His men refused to embark without him, but after being addressed with persuasive eloquence, in Gaelic, by General Fraser, they returned to their duty. While their commander was speaking, an old High- lander, who had accompanied his son to Glasgow, was leaning on his staff, gazing at the General with great earnestness. When he had finished the old man walked up to him and said, famil- iarly, " Simon, you are a good fellow, and speak like a man. As long as you live Simon of Lovat will never die."
When Sir William Howe refused to exchange General Lee, - and it was reported he had been placed in close confinement, - Congress ordered a retaliation in kind. Campbell, one of the victims, was brought to Concord, and lodged in the jail of which we are writing. His treatment was unnecessarily severe, the authorities placing the most literal construction upon the orders they received. He complained in a dignified and manly letter to Sir William, with a description of his loathsome prison. By Washington's order his condition was mitigated, and he was afterwards exchanged for Ethan Allen. In the Southern cam- paign he fought us with great bravery, and lived to be a British major-general.
But to resume our topography. Main Street was also for- merly the old Boston and Harvard road, which left the Com- mon by the cross-way entering Walden Street, opposite the old Heywood tavern, now the property of Cyrus Stow. Within the space between this cross-way and Main Street and Walden Street and the Common was the mill-pond which played so important a part in the transactions of the 19th of April, but
384
HISTORIC FIELDS AND MANSIONS OF MIDDLESEX.
the existence of which would not be suspected by the stranger. The mill-pond has, in fact, disappeared along with the dam, - the little brook to which it owed its existence now finding its way underground, and flowing onward unvexed to Concord River. We ask the reader to circumnavigate with us the old mill-pond.
Pursuing our way along the south side of Walden Street, we soon come to what is called the "Hubbard Improvement," a large tract through which a broad avenue has been opened. Upon this land, where the cellar and well are still to be seen, was once a very ancient dwelling, known as the Hubbard House. It had a long pitched roof, which stopped but little short of the ground, and from which projected two chimneys, both stanch and strong. The old well-sweep, now an unaccustomed object in our larger towns, had done unwilling service for the king's men in '75, creaking and groaning as it drew the crystal draughts from the cool depths. The house had been visited by these same redcoats, and its larder laid under severe contribution.
A little farther on was the dwelling and corn-house of Cap- tain Timothy Wheeler, the miller, whose successful ruse-de-guerre saved a large portion of the Colony flour, stored along with his own. The story has often been told, but will bear repetition.
When the troops appeared at his door, he received them in a friendly manner, inviting them in, and telling them he was glad to see them. He then asked them to sit down, and eat some bread and cheese, and drink some cider, which they did not hesitate to do. After satisfying themselves, the soldiers went out and were about to break open the corn-house. Wheeler called to them not to trouble themselves to split the door, as, if they would wait a minute, he would fetch the keys, and open himself ; which he did. " Gentlemen," said the crafty Yankee, " I am a miller. I improve those mills yonder by which I get my living, and every gill of this flour " -at the same time putting his hand on a bag of flour that was really his own - " I raised and manufactured on my own farm, and it is all my own. This is my store-house. I keep my flour here until such time as I can make a market for it." Upon this the officer in
1
LEXINGTON. TO CONCORD.
385
command said, "Well, I believe you are a pretty honest old chap ; you don't look as if you would hurt anybody, and we won't meddle with you." He then ordered his men to march.
Heywood's tavern was vigorously searched by the troops for a fugitive who had brought the alarm from Lexington. He, however, eluded their pursuit by getting up the chimney, where he remained until the search was given over. If the reader is surprised at finding so many houses of entertainment in Old Concord, he must remember it was the ancient seat of justice for Middlesex, and on the high-road from the capital to the New Hampshire Grants.
The hill burying-ground is now thickly covered with a growth of young locust-trees, which somewhat obstruct the view, al- though they impart fragrance to the air and shade to the close-set graves. The oldest inscription here is dated in 1677. It is credible that the settlers who first made their homes in this hillside should have carried their dead to its summit. We observed here what we considered to be the rude sepul- chral stones seen in Dorchester and other ancient graveyards.
One inscription usually attributed to the pen of Daniel Bliss, has been much admired.
"God wills us free ; - man wills us slaves. I will as God wills ; God's will be done. Here lies the body of JOHN JACK A native of Africa who died
March, 1773, aged about sixty years. Though born in a land of slavery, He was born free. Though he lived in a land of liberty, He lived a slave ; Till by his honest though stolen labours, He acquired the source of slavery, Which gave him his freedom ; Though not long before Death, the grand tyrant, Gave him his final emancipation, And put him on a footing with kings, Though a slave to vice, He practised those virtues, Without which kings are but slaves." . 17
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.