USA > Massachusetts > Suffolk County > Boston > Popular history of Boston > Part 10
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" Have you heard the news? " he asked of his visitor.
" What news?" asked the lady.
" Three hundred new lights have just arrived in a ship from London, and the selectmen have ordered them to be put in irons," which astonishing bit of news, we suppose, the good woman spread through the town.
He once courted a lady who refused his hand and married a man by the name of Quincy. He met her after her mar- riage and greeted her blandly : -
"So it seems, madam, that you prefer the Quincy to Byles."
" Yes," said the lady, " for if there had been any affliction worse than Byles, God would have sent it upon Job."
He remarked, on seeing the lower tier of windows in King's Chapel, which were in his day the same as now, "I have often heard of the canons of the church, but I never heard of the port-holes before."
But though he was so witty in conversation, his poetry has much of dignity and strength. For example, take his New England Hymn : -
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" To Thee the tuneful anthem soars, To Thee, our fathers' God and ours, This wilderness we chose our seat ; To rights secured by equal laws From persecution's iron claws, We here have sought our calm retreat.
" See ! how the flocks of Jesus rise, See ! how the face of Paradise Blooms through the thickets of the wild. Here Liberty erects her throne ; Here Plenty pours her treasures down ; Peace smiles, as heavenly cherubs mild.
" Lord, guard thy favors ; Lord, extend Where further western suns descend ; Nor southern seas the blessings bound ; Till Freedom lift her cheerful head, Till pure Religion, onward spread, And beaming, wrap the world around."
Near Hollis Street Church, in the house where Byles lived, his two eccentric daughters continued to live until 1835. These ladies remained Royalists until the day of their death. They used to go to church in the dresses of the last century, they blew their fire with the old-time colonial bellows, and ate from the table from which Franklin had used to take his tea. In 1835 the city ordered a part of the house to be taken down, in order to widen the street, which caused one of these ancient ladies so much grief that she is said to have died in consequence.
"O, is not this a holy spot ? 'T is the high place of Freedom's birth ! God of our fathers, is it not The holiest spot of all the earth ?
" Quenched is thy flame on Horeb's side ; The robber roams o'er Sinai now ; And those old men, thy seers, abide No more on Zion's mournful brow.
" But on this hill thou, Lord, hast dwelt Since round its head the war-cloud curled, And wrapped our fathers, where they knelt In prayer and battle for a world.
" Here sleeps their dust : 't is holy ground, And we, the children of the brave, From the four winds are gathered round, To lay our offering on their grave.
"Free as the winds around us blow, Free as the waves below us spread, We rear a pile that long shall throw Its shadow on their sacred bed.
" But on their deeds no shade shall fall While o'er their couch thy sun shall flame, Thine ear was bowed to hear their call, And thy right hand shall guard their fame."
On laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument. - PIERPONT.
CHAPTER XVI.
FREEDOM AND PROSPERITY.
THE evacuation of Boston was the end of the Revolutionary War on the soil of that city. The colonies declared their independence in 1776, and the contest for liberty went on with varying fortunes until the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown, but Massachusetts blood was shed elsewhere and not here.
The government of the colony now returned to its primi- tive form, -the election of a Legislature, or General Court, by the people, to manage all public affairs. In 1780 Massachu- setts adopted a constitution, and under it John Hancock was elected governor.
Peace between England and America was declared in 1782. In 1787 the United States Constitution was framed, and under it George Washington was elected President in 1 789.
The same year Washington, shortly after his election, visited Boston, and was received with great rejoicing.
In 1822 Boston became a city.
Lafayette, the friend of Washington, whose coming to America during the Revolution gave hope to the colonies in the darkest period of the contest, and who rendered America great service both in councils of war and on the battle-field, visited Boston in 1825, and in his presence the corner-stone of Bunker Hill Monument was laid, on the 17th June.
The scene on that day was not forgotten by the generation
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that witnessed it. Mr. Frothingham, in his History of the Siege of Boston, vividly describes the day and a part of the ceremony : -
"This celebration was unequalled in magnificence by any- thing of the kind that had been seen in New England. The morning proved propitious. The air was cool, the sky was clear, and timely showers the previous day had brightened the vesture of Nature into its loveliest hue.
" Delighted thousands flocked into Boston to bear a part in the proceedings, or to witness the spectacle. At about ten o'clock a procession moved from the State House towards Bunker Hill. The military, in their fine uniforms, formed the van. About two hundred veterans of the Revolution, of whom forty were survivors of the battle, rode in barouches next to the escort. These venerable men, the relics of a past gener- ation, with emaciated frames, tottering limbs, and trembling voices, constituted a touching spectacle. Some wore, as hon- orable decorations, their old fighting equipments, and some bore the scars of still more honorable wounds. Glistening eyes constituted their answer to the enthusiastic cheers of the grateful multitudes who lined their pathway and cheered their progress.
"To this patriot band succeeded the Bunker Hill Monu- ment Association ; then the Masonic Fraternity, in their splen- did regalia, thousands in number ; then Lafayette, continually welcomed by tokens of love and gratitude, and the invited guests ; then a long array of societies, with their various badges and banners. It was a splendid procession, and of such length that the front nearly reached Charlestown Bridge ere the rear had left Boston Common. It proceeded to Breed's Hill, where the Grand Master of the Freemasons, the Presi- dent of the Monument Association, and General Lafayette performed the ceremony of laying the corner-stone in the presence of a vast concourse of people."
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Daniel Webster, then at the beginning of his great fame, delivered the oration. It was one of the finest products of American eloquence. In closing, he said, -
"We come, as Americans, to mark the spot which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that who- soever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may be- hold that the place is not undistinguished where the first great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that wearied and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here and be proud in the midst of its toil. We wish that in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong.
" We wish that this column, rising toward heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce in all minds a pious feeling of de- pendence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming ; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit !"
Rev. Ray Palmer, then a youth, was present, and he has kindly allowed us to republish his recollections of the event.
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MEMORIES OF BUNKER HILL. - JUNE 17, 1825.
Of those who were present when the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument was laid, more than half a century ago, but few, comparatively, now survive.
Lafayette, the hero of two worlds, died in a good old age not many years after. Daniel Webster, the illustrious orator and statesman, worn out with public labors, was many years since laid in his sepulchre.
All the then surviving participators in the scenes of the Revolution have passed away. A limited number only, it is probable, even of those who constituted the younger part of the vast assembly gathered there, still live and keep in mem- ory the details of what was done.
It has been suggested to the writer, who was himself pres- ent, and retains the freshest recollection of persons and things, that a brief account of the occurrences of that inter- esting day would be a valuable piece of history. Such a sketch - of course. it must be little more than an outline - he will accordingly attempt to give.
First of all, we may bring back in our thought the Boston and the Charlestown of that date.
Boston had only some three years before been made a city, with a population of not far from fifty thousand. Its business area was comparatively small. Immediately in the rear of the State House, and forming the top of Beacon Hill, there was a large field or common, since graded away, but then flat, and serving as a play-ground for the lovers of base-ball.
The street at the east end of the State House was in the condition of a country road, strewed with boulders and loose stones, with a rough bank on either side.
Between the city and the village of Roxbury there was quite a piece of country road called the Neck, with here and there a house, and the water of the South Cove and the West
LAFAYETTE.
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.... ......
Y
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Bay visible at a short distance on either hand. But one bridge - the old wooden Charlestown Bridge - connected Boston with Charlestown, which was not then a city.
Both the heights of the latter town, the one on which the battle was fought, and the higher one to the northward, were almost entirely naked fields. At the southwest part of the battle-hill the houses pressed close around the base ; but the whole battle-ground and all the eastern and northeastern slope were as bare as when the shots from the British fleet in the Mystic River swept over them on the eventful day whose deeds are enshrined in history. It is only by recalling the surroundings as they were that one can get a clear conception of the scene presented on the 17th of June, 1825, and feel the contrast between that time and the present.
The whole country anticipated the occasion with the most lively interest, and many came from great distances to attend the celebration.
I was at that time a student in Phillips Academy, Ando- ver. With two or three classmates I obtained leave of ab- sence, and retiring immediately after tea for a few hours sleep, we set out at about twelve o'clock and walked to Boston, reaching the city by seven in the morning. The his- toric memories of the great battle, the fame of the already renowned orator, the presence of Lafayette, the companion and trusted friend of Washington, -these were enough to set youthful hearts aglow, and to awaken an almost romantic enthusiasm. We were destined to no disappointment.
The procession moved over from the summit to the north- eastern side of the hill. A platform had been erected far down the slope and covered with a tent open on the side towards the ascent.
There the different sections of the long array were seated in order, rank rising above rank, and covering the hillside so as to form a vast amphitheatre. It was, indeed, as Webster
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said in his first sentence, an "uncounted multitude " on which the orator looked when he ascended to his position.
He himself was then only in his forty-fourth year, and in the perfection of that nobleness of person and dignity of bear- ing for which he was so renowned. With Lafayette by his side, and surrounded by so many of the survivors of the des- perate struggle on the spot where now they stood, and of other battle-fields of the Revolution, and by a multitude of the most illustrious men of the state and country, there was nothing wanting which could lend im- pressiveness to the oc- casion. Altogether it was a scene which no one who witnessed was likely ever to forget.
It was my good for- tune, in the seating of the procession, to push my way in boyish fash- DANIEL WEBSTER. ion to a seat on the grass among the highest order of Masons, directly in front of Mr. Webster, and not more than sixty or seventy feet from him.
I was in a position to see perfectly his great glowing eyes and every play of thought and emotion on his face, and to hear every syllable from first to last. When he rose to speak there was absolute silence, notwithstanding the multitude.
A considerable space was left him on the front of the plat- form ; a small table was set ten feet or more from the place where he chiefly stood to speak, and on this he laid his
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manuscript unopened. The entire address was committed to memory ; but now and then when he had finished some grand passage, while waiting for the resounding applauses to subside, he would walk slowly to the table and turn his leaves to the point which he had reached in his discourse.
The impression made by his general manner was that of perfect self-command. Not a nervously hurried look or mo- tion disturbed the reposeful bearing. His voice at that period of his life was exactly one's ideal, - deep, clear, full, flexible, capable of great power without losing its natural quality, and sympathetically responsive to his emotions. He began on a natural key, but spoke so deliberately and with such distinct- ness of articulation that he seemed to be heard to the outmost lines of the assembly.
His speaking, in the variety of its intonations, was like a magnificent talk from first to last ; rising often into the noblest elocution, but never passing into that declamatory and mo- notonous vociferation into which so many public speakers fall. Making every allowance for youthful susceptibility, I cannot but believe that few orators, in any age, have furnished a finer specimen of discursive eloquence than this.
It seems to me some evidence of this that after almost fifty-four years many passages of that oration, with the exact tone and emphasis and gesture with which they were pro- nounced, remain as fresh in my memory as though I had heard them only yesterday.
The clear and silvery ring of the voice, when he cried, " Let it rise !- let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming ; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit !" still echoes in my ear.
I still seem to hear him say to the veteran survivors of the battle, as they stood, warworn and infirm, before him, - " Venerable men ! . . . the same heavens are indeed over your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; but all else, how changed !"
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I still feel the inimitable tenderness of the minor key in which he uttered the pathetic apostrophe to Warren : "But ah ! him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart! . . . Our poor work may perish, but thine shall endure ! this monu- ment may moulder away, the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail !"
I still feel the thrill stirred by the majestic power of voice and action with which, in allusion to Greece, then in her rev- olutionary struggle, he said, " If the true spark of religious and civil liberty be kindled, it will burn. Human agency cannot extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire, it may be smothered for a time ; the ocean may overwhelm it ; moun- tains may press it down ; but its inherent and unconquerable force will heave both the ocean and the land, and at some time or other, in some place or other, the volcano will break out and flame up to heaven."
Such are some of the recollections of the scenes connected with the laying of the corner-stone of the monument on Bun- ker Hill. No intelligent young man or woman, it would seem, can recall them, and read Mr. Webster's grand oration, without a deeper sense of the value of our free, civil and reli- gious institutions, and the price they cost our venerated an- cestors.
MONUMENT GROUNDS.
The beautiful grounds on which Bunker Hill Monument stands retain not a vestige of the fortifications of 1775. A flat granite stone marks the place of the breastworks, and another, nearly at the foot of the grounds, the spot where Warren fell. The base of the monument stands on the spot of Prescott's famous ditch, which was dug on the starry night in June, just
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before the battle. The fosse and breastworks were quite prominent at the time the foundation of the monument was laid by Lafayette, in 1825, but the building of so stupendous a structure of granite on the spot caused them to be levelled and obliterated.
A few incidental facts about the monument may be of in- terest to the stranger. The foundation is composed of six courses of stone, and extends twelve feet below the surface of the ground. There are in the whole pile ninety courses of granite blocks. The base of the obelisk is thirty feet square, and fifteen feet at the spring of the apex. The num- ber of steps in the spiral stone stairway is two hundred and ninety-five. The cap-piece of the apex, which crowns the whole at an elevation of two hundred and twenty-one feet, consists of a single stone, weighing two and a half tons.
The historical relics in the monument consist of a beautiful model of Warren's statue, which was erected over the spot where the General fell, and two cannon in the chamber of the obelisk, which were used during the war, and on which is inscribed their own history.
The remains of Warren were interred at the place where he fell. Here a monument was erected in 1794, of which the model is seen in the monument on the inside at the base. After the evacuation of Boston the patriot's body was disin- terred, and removed with impressive ceremonies to King's Chapel. The body was again removed to St. Paul's Church on Tremont Street, and now rests at Forest Hills.
CAMBRIDGE CHURCHYARD.
The monument to the patriots who fell in 1775 is in Cam- bridge Churchyard.
It is a lovely spot, full of historic associations, and we will speak of it here.
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The Vassal family sleep here, who built two stately man- sions in Cambridge, one of which is known as the Vassal House, now the residence of Professor Longfellow. The tomb of the Vassal family, which is celebrated in Holmes's poetry, is marked by a freestone tablet supported by five pillars, on which are the sculptured reliefs of a vase and the sun, -Vas, in the Latin, meaning a vase, and Sol, the sun, and Vas Sol representing the ancient emblems of the family. Here is the resting-place of the poet-artist, Washington Allston, in the old Dana tomb, where he was interred by torch-light one quiet midsummer eve in 1843.
Allston entered upon his life-work with a religious enthusi- asm that ennobled his personal character. It is said that
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WASHINGTON IRVING.
when he first went to England to study painting he on one occasion sold a certain picture to a nobleman to meet his pressing necessities. After he parted with the picture, the
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thought came to him that the moral influence of it on a per- son with a perverted taste and prurient imagination might not be good ; the thought haunted him and so wrought upon his sensitive conscience that he went to the nobleman and re- purchased the picture.
Washington Irving was an intimate friend of Allston in his youth ; they were in Italy at the same time ; they visited the studios of Rome together, and made arm-and-arm walks to those relics of antiquity that recall the Rome of the Cæsars. Irving has left a most beautifully written account of his old friend, in which he describes his affectionate, enthusiastic dis- position, and the awe and reverence with which he beheld the pictures of the old masters, or walked about the stupendous pile of St. Peter's where art looked down on every hand. " His eyes would dilate," said Irving, " his pale countenance would flush ; he would breathe quick, and almost gasp, in expressing his feelings when excited by almost any object of grandeur and sublimity."
The old house stands in Cambridgeport where he lived ; and the magnificent picture of Belshazzar's Feast, on which he spent the last week and the last day of his life, may be seen at the Art Museum.
The old-time presidents of Harvard College rest here in crumbling tombs. One of Dr. Holmes's most beautiful poems describes this churchyard.
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"Go where the ancient pathway guides, See where our sires laid down Their smiling babes, their cherished brides, The patriarchs of the town. Hast thou a tear for buried love ? A sigh for transient power ? All that a century left above, Go, read it in an hour."
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" HIGH walls and huge the BODY may confine, And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze, And massive bolts may baffle his design, And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways; Yet scorns th' immortal MIND this base control ! No chains can bind it, and no cell enclose ; Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole, And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes ! It leaps from mount to mount, from vale to vale It wanders, plucking honeyed fruits and flowers ; It visits home to hear the fireside tale, Or in sweet converse pass the joyous hours. 'Tis up before the sun, roaming afar, And in its watches wearies every star!"
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ANTISLAVERY STRUGGLE.
ABOUT half a century ago a young New England journalist accepted a position in Baltimore.
The state of society which he beheld in that city surprised and shocked him.
Baltimore then was one of the marts of the domestic slave trade.
Slave-pens flaunted their signs upon the principal streets, and vessels loaded with slaves who had been bred and raised like cattle for the market, were constantly departing for Mo -- bile, Savannah, and New Orleans. Coffles of slaves, chained together, moved through the streets. The traffic in human flesh was one great business of the day.
Yet the people engaged in raising slaves for the market moved in the best society, and were members of the leading Christian churches.
The young man publicly protested against this great wrong.
He was imprisoned for making this protest.
On the walls of his cell he thus wrote with a pencil : -
"A martyr's crown is richer than a king's. Think it an honor with thy Lord to bleed,
And glory 'midst intensest sufferings ; Though beat, imprisoned, put to open shame, Time shall embalm and magnify thy name."
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That prophecy was to be fulfilled.
But not until after many years.
This young man returned to New England and was the leading mind of the first Antislavery Society in America, which was formed on "Nigger Hill," Boston, in a school-room under the African Baptist Church, Jan. 6, 1832.
There seem to have been some men "of property and standing " in Boston at this time whom history will not love to remember by their names, but will be glad to mention them merely as people that have been.
Some of these nameless people, in October, 1835, attacked a female antislavery meeting. While one of the ladies, Miss Mary S. Parker, was engaged in prayer, we are told that the company was assailed by " hisses, yells, and curses," sounds not often heard in Boston to-day on any occasion, and never from men " of property and position." What great men they must have been !
They next threw the Testaments and Prayer-Books out of the window. They then seized a young man who was edit- ing an antislavery paper in the city, and coiled a rope around his body, intending to drag him through the streets.
A cry was raised, -
" He sha'n't be hurt : he is an American !"
At this he was beset by the mob, and the clothes were torn from his body.
He was at last taken in charge by the city officers, and was placed in jail for his personal safety.
This young man was the same who was imprisoned in Bal- timore, - William Lloyd Garrison, - at the time of this last arrest, the editor of The Liberator.
The antislavery society he had formed proved the begin- ning of many such societies, and the principles to which the young agitator devoted his life, and for which he lived many years in poverty, spread by persecution. This uncompromis- ing young man became a moral power in the land.
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