>. ^^^^'.S^
..v^
•^^^^TxV
■^ , -I ^ o
^^^
\^
.v^'
x^^ ■''^
« o 0 ; ^^
••^o 0^
:'; "^^A V^
A'^^Vs
o.
\^^ % *», ^"^ ^^^
<:.
v^^ '''^^
X^°4^
« « I
'"<?,
AW^Lttr^^ ^- dto^yw
LEXINGTON HISTORIC A I »CIETY
TV!
PRESEJ
OWN
TINGS.
iiVU
|
'J» fx' |
1 |
|
8 f? •■ ^^ |
HIST(
A)
HIS!
PRESE
fi'Busa
& k
PROCEEDINGS
OF THE
LEXINGTON HISTORICAL SOCIETY
AND PAPERS RELATING TO THE
HISTORY OF THE TOWN
PRESENTED AT SOME OF ITS MEETINGS.
VOL. III.
LEXINGTON, MASSACHUSETTS PUBLISHED BY THE LEXINGTON HISTORICAL SOCIETY
1905
p*^<^«
Gi!t The Societj"- f f D '05
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Sketch of Life of Hon. Thomas Hancock 5
Dr. Stillman Spauldinc 19
The Parish of Cambridge Farms 25
Charles Follen 42
Origin of the Lexington and West Cambridge Branch
Railroad 58
Some Memories of the Lexington Centennial .... 62 Recollections of the Third Meeting-house .... 82
The Epitaphs in the Burying-grounds ^5
The Concord Turnpike no
Early Days of the High School 117
Clock-making in Lexington 134
How the Hancock-Clarke House was Saved .... 138
The Munroe Tavern 142
Mr. Charles A. Wellington 155
Mr. George O. Smith 164
Rev. Carlton A. Staples 177
Proceedings i. to xi.
Gifts xii. to xvii.
Membership xix. and xx.
Necrology xxi. and xxii.
Index xxiii. to xxvi.
A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF HON. THOMAS HANCOCK, A NATIVE OF LEXINGTON.
Read by Rev. C. A. Staples, March 8, 1887.
Among Hogarth's pictures, designed to teach certain great moral lessons, there is a series entitled " The Indus- trious and the Idle Apprentice." In these he represents the course of two young men apprenticed to a silk weaver in London, a hundred and fifty years ago. In the first plate we have the young men working at their looms. The industrious apprentice appears cheerful and happy, intent upon his work and trying to accomplish as much as pos- sible. Beside him lies an open book which he is supposed to be reading whenever his eyes can be safely withdrawn from his work — a book of an instructive and moral char- acter. His appearance is that of a tidy, self-respecting, open-hearted fellow, determined to make his way in the world through his own work and worth. The other, the idler, is represented as yawning over his work, from the ef- fects of the last night's debauch, sullen and repulsive in countenance, with copies of ribald songs hung up around him, which he is evidently learning, and with a huge pot of beer standing hard by. His appearance is slovenly and coarse ; he seems careless in his work, and only concerned to get through with it as easily as possible, that he may be ready for another night of dissipation and folly.
The second plate represents the way in which they spend Sunday. The industrious apprentice is seen in the congre- gation at Church, joining in the service of worship with his master's daughter who holds the hymn book with him from
6 THOMAS HANCOCK.
which they are singing together with evident satisfaction and delight. The idler has stolen away from Church into the adjoining burying ground, where with his associates he is engaged in gambling, using a horizontal tombstone for a table while the sexton, who has discovered them, is about to cudgel them over the head with his cane.
In the fourth plate we have the industrious apprentice advanced from the weaver's stall to the counting room, where he keeps the books, and holds the keys of his mas- ter's purse, while the idle fellow is driven out of the shop and sent off to sea for vicious courses.
The next scene introduces us to a wedding with its fes- tivities and rejoicing, where the industrious apprentice mar- ries his master's daughter, and becomes his partner in busi- ness, while the idle one, returning from sea, becomes the associate of vile creatures, who live in wretched garrets and support themselves by thieving.
In the next our industrious and prosperous young man becomes an Alderman of London, and as one of the magis- trates of the city, his former fellow apprentice is brought before him to be tried for murder. And the series closes with the Alderman, become Lord Mayor, and in his splen- did coach, when riding to his inauguration in Guild Hall, he passes his old associate on his way to the scaffold to die for his crimes.
Thus industry, morality and religion lead to promotion, wealth and honor ; while idleness, dissipation and folly lead to poverty, suffering and shame. Such are the lessons which these pictures forcibly, characteristically and happily teach. They are a series of sermons illustrating great principles of human conduct preached in pictures rather than words.
No doubt Hogarth drew both characters from the life
THOMAS HANCOCK. 7
which he saw around him in the London shops and streets. But he certainly could have found in Boston, living at the very time his pictures were made, a man who almost ex- actly answered to his delineation of the fortunes of the in- dustrious apprentice. I mean Thomas Hancock, the son of Rev. John Hancock, the second minister of Lexington.
The old Hancock House on Hancock Street, in Lexing- ton has a small gambrel roofed ell, one story in height and in dimension 24 ft. by 21. It constitutes the original house built by the minister in 1698, when he was ordained and settled over what was then the parish of Cambridge Farms. In one of the two attic chambers of this humble dwelling, Thomas Hancock, the second son of the minister, was born July 13th, 1703, and five days afterwards, Sunday, July 18, as the Church records show, he was taken to the meeting house and baptized by his father. Thus early in life he was inducted into the way of religious observances.
His education was probably conducted by his father and consisted of little more than a knowledge of the three Rs. At that time there was no school in the parish, so far as we know, and the minister was, not unUkely, the only person capable of teaching the common English branches and pre- paring young men for college. Parson Hancock sent two of his sons, John and Ebenezer, to Harvard, for which they were prepared by his own instruction. It used to be said that whenever a New England family had a boy who was not good to work, he was sent to college, and made into a minister. However this may have been with the Hancock sons, it is certain that Thomas was a good boy to work and that he was not sent to college, while his older and younger brothers were in due time made into ministers.
Imagine the boy at fourteen trudging along the highway, with his stock of clothing tied up in a handkerchief and
8 THOMAS HANCOCK.
slung over his shoulder upon a stick, his only worldly pos- sessions, making his way to Boston, where he was appren- ticed in 1 71 8 to Samuel Gerrish and Sarah, his wife, a book- binder and stationer. He was a bright, quick-witted, wide- awake lad and soon gave promise of higher things than book-binding and book-selling, though he served out his ap- prenticeship and learned the business thoroughly. No sooner had he completed his term of service, probably in 1725, than we find him setting up for himself in the same trade, possibly with the assistance of his master, or perhaps taking the business of Gerrish into his hands, while his master retired. Certain it is that he was soon established in a store of his own on Ann Street, called " Stationer's Arms," where he secured a large and prosperous trade and where he remained for many years. Here the latest books of Theology, Law, Medicine, Science, Religion and othei departments of literature were to be found imported from Longman's in London, or published in America. He seems to have risen rapidly in wealth, social position and influence. Probably he soon embarked in larger enterprises than book- binding and selling.
We find him engaged in the retail dry goods business, and the selectmen of Lexington entered in their accounts with the town bills of such articles as mourning gloves bought, I suppose, for the funerals of paupers, at the store of Thomas Hancock. It is certain that he became a large shipping merchant, trading with various foreign countries, sending out cargoes of dried fish, corn and tobacco, and bringing home wine and fruit, sugar and silks.
But in the meantime he had taken to himself a wife, in the person of Lydia Henchman. He had not been an in- dustrious and faithful apprentice in vain, nor a constant at- tendant upon the Sunday services of Brattle Street Church,
THOMAS HANCOCK. 9
where the Henchmans worshipped, without winning the confidence of the family and making a favorable impression upon the heart of the daughter. And so his marriage with the fair Lydia, who is said to have been a beautiful girl, was consummated and a close alliance with one of the most prominent and respectable families of the Church and the town. The Henchman mansion was in Court Street, on the site of what was till recently the Adams Express Com- pany's building, that huge, iron front edifice, standing on the south side a little below Tremont Street. It came into the possession of Mrs. Hancock from her father's estate, and was given by her to Brattle Street Church, after the death of her husband, for a parsonage. Here the ministers of that Church, Dr. Cooper, Buckminster, Edward Everett, Dr. Palfrey and Dr. Lothrop resided, until within 40 years, when it was sold and a new parsonage on Chestnut Street bought. Here died that great preacher, Joseph Stevens Buckminster, whose Church was so thronged, that as I once heard an old lady say, who in her childhood used to go there with her parents, ladders were sometimes placed against the walls on the outside, and at the windows, and when all the space inside was filled, people climbed up and sat on the window sills, listening to the silver tones of Buckminster's eloquence.
In the year 1735, Thomas Hancock, then but 32 years old, had accumulated money enough to justify him in tak- ing steps to build a house for his future home. He accord- ingly bought the land on the south side of Beacon Hill, in- cluding the present site of the State House and extending some distance to the west of it and from the Common back over the hill to Derne Street, including a portion of what was known as the reservoir lot, embracing 6j^ acres of the most desirable ground for residence in Boston. He be-
10 THOMAS HANCOCK.
gan building his house in the following year, and it was completed and occupied by him in 1737.
All who were familiar with the Boston of 40 years ago, readily recall the appearance of the old Hancock mansion, standing a little west of the State House, and some dis- tance back from Beacon Street, fronting the Common — a substantial structure of stone, two stories in height, with the front door in the centre, and a portico supported by handsome fluted columns, with carved capitals. There were two windows upon each side of the door, in the front of the lower story, and five windows in the upper story. The roof was of the style common in that day, called **gam- brel," with three dormer windows and with a balustrade at the peak, running the whole length and enclosing a con- siderable space where the family could go out for an airing, and obtain an extensive view over the city, the harbor and the surrounding country. The house was approached from the street by broad stone steps, through a yard laid out in two or more terraces and planted with choice shrubs and flowers. Originally, there was an ell containing a spacious dining room on the east side, extending towards the State House, and a similar ell on the west end, containing the servants' rooms, and extending back to the stables, in the rear, behind the house ; but these had disappeared before my remembrance. Rising up the slope of Beacon Hill, where Mt. Vernon and Pinckney Streets are now, were ex- tensive fruit, flower and vegetable gardens, crowned with a summer house from which opened a wide prospect over the land and the sea ; and where the State House now stands, was Hancock's cow-pasture.
The interior of the house was divided above and below by a wide hall running through it, from front to rear. The rooms were spacious and elegant, finished with elaborate
THOMA S HA NCOCK. 1 1
carvings, in the style of that day, and hung with rich and curious papers. Everything without and within this lordly mansion gave evidence of a taste for substantial and beau- tiful things, and an ample fortune to gratify the taste. The owner was evidently a prosperous and wealthy man, who took dehght in well-kept grounds, a fine equipage and a generous hospitality, who used his money freely where- ever it brought him comfort, luxury and social distinction.
Thus we find the Lexington apprentice boy, after 25 years of hard work, wise planning and careful saving, the owner of the finest house and estate in Boston. He had risen by the force of character, from the bindery to the counting room, and from the counting room to the head of the establishment, to become its director and owner. The industrious apprentice was thought good enough even to possess the hand of Lydia Henchman, and he took her from the plain house of her father in Court Street, and made her mistress of a splendid mansion on Beacon Hill ; too far away from the centre of business, in a bleak and lonely spot, it was said, but all confessed that it was a beautiful situation when once they reached it. In one of his letters to a friend he says, "We are living very com- fortably in our house on Beacon Hill." But it was a long time, I suppose, before there were any neighbors nearer than old Peter Faneuil, the great merchant, whose house stood nearly opposite King's Chapel on Tremont Street, and whom Thomas Hancock speaks of in one of his letters as " The toppinist man in Boston."
In the Boston Public Library, there is a great mass of manuscript letters, account books, and other papers that belonged to Thomas Hancock, which were found in the old Hancock mansion, when it was torn down in 1863. Here are the contracts for building the grand house, drawn up in
12 THOMAS HANCOCK.
his hand-writing, and copies of his business letters to his correspondents in England, ordering materials for the house and its furnishings — the flowers, shrubs and trees for his grounds, and books and merchandise for his store. Some of them are very curious and interesting and they reveal strikingly the habits and the character of the man; his careful, methodical, pains-taking business methods ; his anxiety to keep all the trade in his line of business in his own hands and crowd out every competitor ; his sharp, shrewd way of dealing with the London merchants to bring his goods down to the lowest figure. He evidently fol- lowed the advice of one of the Rothchilds,"To be success- ful you must buy sheep and sell deer." When ordering books, for instance, he would write that he wanted a par- ticular one for his own use and wished the binding to be es- pecially handsome, and suggested in view of the fact that his trade was very considerable with them, whether they would not be pleased to make him a present of it. He never hesitates to tell precisely what he wants — there are no sly hints, no circumlocution in presenting the matter — he puts it in words that leave no chance for misunder- standing. He wants the best at the lowest price, and if something nice be thrown in to adorn the garden or the house, so much the better. In planting his grounds with trees, shrubs and flowers he had great tribulation. They were ordered from London, and they were to be rare, choice and beautiful. But hardly anything lived which he received. The trees would not grow ; the seeds never sprouted ; many pounds in value proved a total loss and he writes to the nursery-man in England complaining bitterly, "If you are an honest man," he says, "you will replace this order with a new lot that are sound and good, without cost. Even those things which you sent me as a present,
THOMAS HANCOCK. 13
were all worthless You cannot expect to extend your trade here unless you make this loss good." Thus a hundred and fifty years ago we find that all the seed sold was not sound and all the trees planted did not grow, and buyers then were like the buyers now, aye, like buyers 3000 years ago, in the time of Solomon, who tells us that they used to cry " It is nought, it is nought," and then go their way and boast of their good bargains. In ordering his paper-hang- ing, he wants a particular pattern, which he has seen in the house of a friend, full of peacocks, mocking-birds, monkeys, squirrels, fruits and flowers, but if possible, handsomer, as he says, " with more birds flying about in the air and with a landskip at the bottom."
Among the Hancock papers was found a curious letter of Peter Faneuil's to an agent of his in the West Indies, advising him of the shipment of a quantity of dried fish which he is directed to sell for his advantage and invest the proceeds in a straight-limbed negro boy, 12 or 15 years old, one who has had the small-pox, and is of a tractable dispo- sition. Thus the great merchant whom Hancock calls the "toppinist " man in Boston, exchanged codfish for negroes. He gave Faneuil Hall, which became the cradle of Liberty, to the town of Boston. And within that hall were held the great meetings, which did much to arouse public sentiment against slavery and destroy the institution that Faneuil up- held by precept and example.
We find Thomas Hancock, the Lexington apprentice boy, prosperous and wealthy, settled in his Beacon Hill mansion in 1737. His rooms are adorned with those won- derful paper-hangings, and his gardens planted with all rare and beautiful things brought from England, which he was coaxing to grow. For twenty-seven years he lived there, dispensing a generous hospitality and drawing around him
14 THOMAS HANCOCK.
the leading people of Boston, in social standing and influ- ence. He still continued his book and dry goods store, but a much larger and more profitable business was his trade with foreign countries. This was probably the principal source of his great fortune, which rose from the contents of the handkerchief brought to Boston, to be the largest for- tune in New England. He invested his money extensively in lands. In some of the country towns of Massachusetts he was an extensive owner of real estate, and in the district of Maine, then belonging to Massachusetts, he owned whole townships and counties amounting, I think, to more than 100,000 acres. But he was not simply a sagacious, enterprising, successful merchant and trader, but a kind- hearted son and brother, and a compassionate and liberal man in his relations to the poor and suffering.
When he was building the great mansion on Beacon Hill in 1735 and 1736 for himself, he was also making a large addition to his father's house in Lexington, and doing much to make the last days of the old folks comfortable and happy. The two-story portion of the house fronting the south, and finished in large and handsome rooms, was erected at the same time as the stone mansion in Boston.
His older brother John, the minister of Braintree, and his younger brother, Ebenezer, colleague pastor, with his father, of the Church in Lexington, both died in early man- hood, leaving dependent families. Thomas Hancock had no children of his own but he seems to have exercised a paternal care over those of his deceased brothers educating them and providing handsomely for them in his will. John Hancock, who became President of the Continental Con- gress and first Governor of Massachusetts, under the new Constitution, was the son of his brother John, minister of Braintree, and was his favorite nephew. He educated him
THOMAS HANCOCK. 1 5
at Harvard, took him into his counting room, after gradual tion, sent him to England on business, where he witnessed the coronation of George III, and left him an estate of more than half a million dollars. This wealth inherited from his uncle, and which he did nothing to increase, but rather depleted, gave Governor John Hancock a high social position and his great prominence among the patriots in the opening scenes of the Revolution. Thus the Lexing- ton apprentice boy perhaps did as much to make John Hancock what he was, as any superior ability or merit of his own.
But few rich men were on the patriot side. The wealth, aristocracy and social distinction belonged mainly to the Tories. That a young man of fine accomplishments and aristocratic connections, having the second largest fortune in the country, for probably it was the largest next to Washington's, had enlisted in the patriot cause, was of im- mense consequence to that cause and naturally secured for him great consideration and enabled him to render grand service in the struggle for National independence. Thom- as Hancock was an active man in charitable, religious and political affairs. It is said that he was fond of the clergy, as good men usually are, and delighted to receive and en- tertain them at his spacious mansion.
We learn from his order books that his cellar was well stocked with the choicest wines and liquors, and the best foreign fruits, and that his table was adorned with the choicest glass, china and silver-ware that the London shops afforded and was supplied with the most toothsome edibles in the Boston markets. And if he really did have great fondness for the clergy, it is no wonder that the clergy were fond of him, and were frequently found eating at his hospitable board and sleeping in his prophet's chamber. In
1 6 THOMAS HANCOCK.
his will he leaves ;^200 in money and a mourning suit to his beloved pastor, Dr. Cooper, and bequests to four other clergymen, including Jonas Clark of Lexington, who mar- ried his niece, Lucy Bowes. Naturally enough the clergy of that day may have thought that "of such is the king- dom of Heaven ! " But his charities were much broader than this. The first number of Hunt's Merchants' Maga- zine contains a notice of Thomas Hancock which speaks of his sympathy with the suffering of all classes and condi- tions. It tells us that the poor were never turned away from his door unfed and that no cause of education, philan- thropy or of religion was denied his help and his bounty. It is a striking fact also that he leaves a bequest of ;^iooo to Boston for the care of the insane poor. In his will made 150 years ago when little or nothing had been done for these sad wrecks of humanity, often chained up for years in rags and filth and left to die like beasts, Thom- as Hancock remembered their miserable condition and de- voted five thousand dollars of his fortune to their alleviation and comfort. It shows that a good heart beat in his bosom ; he felt that he owed something to these poor and wretched creatures out of the wealth with which his life had been crowned. A professorship of Hebrew was founded in Harvard College by a bequest in his will, and ;^iooo given to the Society for propagating the Gospel among the Indians. Bequests were also made to the poor of Brattle Street Church, and a sum of money to the Church in Lex- ington, to procure two communion cups as memorials of his interest and affection. His brothers' and sisters' children were liberally remembered in gifts of money or lands, while the mansion on Beacon Hill with its furniture, plate, pic- tures and books and with his horses and carriages, was left to his wife and ;^ 10,000 sterling in money, the mansion to
THOMAS HANCOCK. Ij
go to his nephew, John, after her death, with the residue of his estate.
During the last years of his hfe he was elected a member of the Governor's Council. In connection with the French and Indian Wars, he rendered important service to the Col- ony and the English Government in fitting out various ex- peditions against the enemy. He was a man of sound judgment, of inflexible honesty, of broad, enterprising spirit ; keen and sagacious in the pursuit of money but liberal in using it ; warm and true in friendship, given to hospitality, faithful to his convictions and firm in his relig- ious principles and habits, a man who, like thousands of New England boys born in humble country homes, by the sheer force of a sound and sturdy character, made his way from poverty to affluence, and become a power for good in the community and the State.
At noon, August ist, 1764, just as he was entering the door of the Council Chamber, in the old State House, he was attacked with apoplexy and fell insensible upon the floor. He was removed to his own house, where he lin- gered for a few hours in an unconscious state and peace- fully passed away in the 62nd year of his age. The dark clouds soon to break in the thunder and tempest of the Revolution were beginning to gather thick and fast in the political heavens. The mutterings of the coming storm were plainly heard ; but he was happily spared the sight of the devastation and misery which it caused here. And he was spared what would not unlikely have been a severer trial, the choice which he would have been compelled to make between the cause of the king and that of the people. It was left for his nephew, John Hancock, probably a man inferior to him in strength and excellence of character, to make the choice and to attain the prominence and the fame
1 8 THOMAS HANCOCK.
which have been awarded him in history, but which the good name and the great fortune of Thomas Hancock opened to him and made possible for him. His widow, Lydia Henchman Hancock, survived her husband above 1 1 years, occupying the famous mansion, and with her nephew John maintaining a large and generous hospitality. She was a near relative of the Quincy family and seems to have exercised guardian care over Dorothy Quincy, daughter of Edmund, a noted Boston merchant, whom John Hancock married at Fairfield, Conn., Sept. 4th, 1775.
The following inscription is taken from the tombstone at the grave of Madam Thomas Hancock, in the old burying ground at Fairfield :
This stone erected
By Thaddeus Burr and Eunice Burr
To the memory of their dear friend
Mrs. Lydia Hancock,
Relict of the Honble Thos. Hancock, Esqr.
of Boston,
Whose Remains lie here interred, having retired to this town from
the calamities of war, during the Blockade of her native
city in 1775. Just on her return to the reenjoy-
ment of an ample fortune.
On April 15th A. D. 1776
She was seized with apoplexy and closed a life of
unaffected piety, universal benevolence
and extensiye charity.
DR. STILLMAN SPAULDING. Read by Ralph E. Lane, March ii, 1S90.
Of the men once prominent in Lexington none is more gratefully remembered by his townspeople than Dr. Still- man Spaulding. Although not numbered among its earli- est inhabitants, the Spaulding family has been identified with this town for many years. Those who knew its origi- nator here in the days when he ministered to them as their physician and friend, will recall many acts which endeared him in so remarkable a degree to the hearts of his neigh- bors.
Entering upon the practice of medicine in this town in the early part of the last century, the immediate successor of Dr. Joseph Fisk, he exemplified that nobility of charac- ter which is the delight of all good men.
Dr. Spaulding was born in Chelmsford, Mass., Aug 17, 1788. His father was Job Spaulding and his mother Sarah Proctor. From this union resulted six children besides the subject of this sketch, namely, Lydia, John, Nathaniel, Sally, Betsey and Hannah.
During the Revolutionary War the schools of that town greatly deteriorated and after attending there a short time he was sent to Andover. Like all boys he was fond of play and on one occasion, while snow-balling with his mates, he was struck accidentally in the eye which was so injured that after a few years he lost the entire use of it.
Dr. Spaulding early determined to become a physician, and after leaving Andover proceeded to fit himself for col- lege, under the tutorship of Rev. Mr. Allen of Chelmsford.
20 STILLMAN SPAULDING.
Dr. Rufiis Wyman of that town, however, urged him to give up college, and enter the office of some physician, feel- ing that the experience thus gained would be of more value than a college training. This the young man decided to do, and went to Amherst, N. H., where he began the study of medicine with his cousin, Dr. Mathias Spaulding, who besides having great skill in his profession was also a profound scholar along other lines. It was owing to the influence of this man that Dr. Stillman Spaulding resumed his original purpose of having a college education. Dr. Mathias Spaulding had graduated with honor from Harvard in 1798 in a class having among its members such men as Stephen Longfellow, Rev. Dr. Channing and Judge Story. The atmosphere of learning into which the young man was thrown at his cousin's changed his purpose, for soon after he returned to Chelmsford, and after studying for a while with Dr. Rufus Wyman, entered Middlebury College, from which he was graduated in 1 810 at the age of 22.
After leaving college he practised medicine for a few months with Dr. Morrill of Cambridge, and the next year, 181 1, moved to Lexington.
During his student life at Chelmsford, he became en- gaged to Susan Butterfield, daughter of Capt. John and Rebecca (Kendall) Butterfield of Chelmsford. She was a girl of beautiful character and high aspirations, but she died during their courtship, and sometime later he became engaged to and finally married her sister, Lucy Butterfield.
When he first came to Lexington he boarded at the old Buckman Tavern, where he remained till his marriage.
During this time he made frequent excursions to Chelms- ford to visit Miss Butterfield, and on the 13th day of May, 1 819, they were married at her father's house. Soon after the wedding they came to Lexington and moved into the
STILLMAN SPAULDING. 21
house known for so many years as the Spaulding Home- stead on the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and Clark Street and in which he lived till his death.
Before Dr. Spaulding moved into this house a Mr. Dick- son kept a grocery store in the half on the south-east side, and later Mr. Gilman. Part of the time the Spauldings occupied but one half the house, renting the other side.
The double house standing between the Spaulding Home- stead and Mr. Spaulding's store is of comparatively recent date, for at the time he purchased the property, the site of the present house was an open field, sloping abruptly to- wards the south-west, and the present sidewalk was not then in existence. In August, 1835, Dr. Spaulding en- gaged the late David Tuttle to build this house, the Doctor furnishing the lumber and Mr. Tuttle performing the labor. The building was but partly finished that year, and it was not completed till sometime later. It was first rented to a man by the name of Haskell, who carried on a book-bindery for some years ; later to one Sealey, a tailor from Woburn, who afterwards moved into a small building on the land of David Johnson, now the site of Miss Clara Harrington's house. This little shop was a few years later moved away by Isaac Mulliken. After Sealey left the Doctor's new house, three other tailors lived there, and still later a man named Gossum kept an oyster saloon there.
A well was dug in front of this house, now covered by the sidewalk, and probably few people know when passing there, that but a few feet of earth separate them from what is still a fine well of water.
After four years of married life Dr. Spaulding's first child was born, John Butterfield Spaulding, June 29, 1823, who lived but nine years, dying March 4, 1832. This child was a prodigy, and his father was justly proud of him.
22 S TILLMAN SPAULDING.
When but eight years old, he was proficient in Latin, being able both to speak and to write it, and in other branches he was equally advanced. It was Dr. Spaulding's greatest de- light to question his son in his different studies, and often, when driving out of the yard, on seeing the boy at play, he would alight from his chaise to talk with him in Latin or ask him some puzzling question in mathematics.
The death of this child was a great blow to his parents. They had four other children, (i) Susan Butterfield, born July 31, 1826, who married William Jackson Currier, M.D., January 23, 1845, ^.nd died February 24, 1877; (2) Natha- niel Edward, born November 23, 1829, who married Henri- etta D. Palfrey of Boston, January 14, 1858, and died in April 1889 ; (3) Louisa Butterfield, born February 16, 1834, and died the next day ; and (4) John Butterfield, born Sep- tember II, 1836, married Mary B. Saville of Gloucester, Mass., October 3, 1861.
Dr. Spaulding was very charitable. It mattered little to him that patients weie unable to pay. They received the same tender devoted care which he gave to all others.
When the youngest child was six years old, he had Mr. Healy of Paris, a very noted portrait painter, paint the pic- ture of each member of his family. Mr. Healy returned to America in i860, visiting Lexington, and called on Dr. Spaulding in order to view his early work.
The Doctor was a great reader, a thorough scholar and a skillful practitioner. As a member of the Massachusetts Medical Society and a close observer of its proceedings, his mind was in touch with the most advanced medical thought of the day, and this higher knowledge which came to him found full expression throughout his professional life.
A devoted student, with a tenacious memory, his mind was stored with historic as well as scientific data. Such
STILLMAN SPAULDING. 23
was his passion for reading that often, after retiring, he would re-light his candle and read for hours. On account of his poor sight, he was obliged to hold his book very near the light, and so absorbed would he become in his reading that often the flame of the candle would scorch the leaf of the book before he noticed it. His poor sight made him the object of many practical jokes at the hands of his son- in-law, the late Dr. Currier. Dr. Spaulding always burned candles, and on taking them down from the shelf one even- ing to light he found, after burning a number of matches, that his son-in-law had substituted two parsnips for the original tallow dips.
Dr. Spaulding was a lover of nature and took great in- terest and delight in agriculture. He bought at an early period about twelve acres of land lying on the top of Con- cord Hill, bordered on the two sides by the main Concord Road and Hill Street ; also a strip of land lying on the south-east side of Belfry Hill, now owned by Mr. Chandler Richardson. On these two pieces of land he had his gar- den. The late Mr. Benjamin Gleason, who then lived on Concord Hill, in a house owned by Mr. David Johnson, now the site of the present Almshouse, was his gardener, v^
and every fall after harvest Mr. Gleason took several wagon-loads of produce to Boston. Dr. Spaulding at one time kept a yoke of speckled oxen, and besides his regular practice as a physician engaged in the wood business.
So far as I have been able to learn Dr. Spaulding never held any town office, but in 1820 was one of a committee of three chosen by the town to build a fence around the Com- mon, and in 1822 he was appointed one of the trustees of the Lexington Academy.
In politics he was a Whig, and very decided in his opin- ions. He was a deeply interested behever in the Sweden-
24 STILLMAN SPAULDING.
borgian faith, reading many books on that special subject.
He was also a member of the Hiram Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons, joining at the time it held its meetings in the Munroe Tavern.
An affection of the heart had for some time warned him of the approaching end, and he placed his affairs in order accordingly. The last entry in his day book, was at the end of the last leaf.
On the morning of his death he visited a patient in Bur- lington and, returning home, he dined and subsequently called at the house of his daughter. At four o'clock, an hour before his death, he put on his hat and went down the street to visit another patient. Returning to his house, he sat for a few minutes at the back porch, reading, when his attention was called to some cattle breaking into the gar- den. He threw down his newspaper, hurriedly walked over to the garden and fell, dead. Being missed, Mr. Johnson, his neighbor, searched for him, and in the twilight he was found peacefully lying beneath an apple tree, with his horse " Pompey " grazing nearby.
He had reached the allotted age of man, and at the close of a sweet spring day, May 28, i860, when the sun was near its setting, his soul had quietly passed on.
Though Dr. Spaulding had his faults as many large- souled men do, his generous and kindly deeds, his hearty good cheer and inspiring words will always live in the hearts of those who knew him. To these the memory of Dr. Spaulding will be most pleasant.
His funeral took place from the Unitarian Church, Tues- day, May 31, i860, and was attended by a large number of people. His remains rest in the new cemetery.
THE PARISH OF CAMBRIDGE FARMS. Read by Rev. C. A. Staples, December 8, 1891.
The territory now known as Lexington was, originally, a part of Cambridge. When the first settlements were made within its borders, we are unable to determine. Certainly as early as 1642, since, in the conveyance of a 600 acre tract to Herbert Pelham, in that year, embracing a large portion of what is now Lexington village, mention is made of a dwelling house thereon. Tradition says that a saw- mill had been erected at that time on the brook below East Lexington, one of the earliest if not the earliest in the Massachusetts Colony. The growth of the settlement was, undoubtedly, very slow and, forty years later, the number of families located within the limits of this portion of Cambridge did not exceed thirty. The territory had been granted or sold, in large tracts, by the Cambridge proprietors, principally to Cambridge people who resided there but cultivated lands here, raising their grain, vege- tables and hay on the fields which they had cleared, and drawing their wood and timber from the forests. Gradu- ally these tracts were divided into farms and given to their children, who settled on them or sold them to men who re- moved here from the older towns. Thus, these lands naturally came to be designated "The Farms," "Cam- bridge Farms" or "Cambridge North Farms," and the people living here as " The Farmers." Even in official documents from the General Court, they are so called.
Of course the inhabitants were all taxed to support the Church at Cambridge and were required to attend meeting
26 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
there on the Sabbath unless they had obtained leave to attend in some adjoining town more convenient to them. Some were connected with the Watertown and some with the Concord Church. We can hardly imagine the hard- ships which Church attendance often involved, the people riding on horseback a distance of seven or eight miles, or in an ox-cart, over roads that were mere paths cut through the woods, in cold and stormy weather, sometimes through deep snow or mud. Yet, every person, not disabled by sickness or old age, was required to go. Children were not allowed to grow up without religious instruction and care, and settlements beyond a certain distance from the meet- ing-house were discouraged and even prohibited in some towns. All must live within the sound of "the church- going bell " or of the meeting-house drum.
Attendance at Cambridge had become so grievous a burden to the farmers that, in 1682, they petitioned the General Court to be made a separate parish, having their own church and minister. It involved no change of their relation to Cambridge as a town, but permitted them to tax themselves for the maintenance of a minister and the build- ing of a meeting-house and relieved them from paying a tax, for these purposes, to Cambridge. In all other respects they would still be under the jurisdiction of Cambridge. This petition was signed by eight of the principal men of the settlement, viz : James Cutter, Matthew Bridge, David Fiske, Sr., Samuel Stone, Sr., Francis Whitmore, John Tidd, Ephraim Winship and John Winter ; but, through the position of Cambridge, unwilling to give up the tax which the farmers paid towards the support of the Cambridge minister, it was denied. Two years later, the petition was renewed and the General Court appointed a committee to consider the matter and report what action ought to be
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 27
taken regarding it. Their report was favorable to the peti- tioners and recommended the formation of a new parish for their accomodation ; but Cambridge was again able to de- feat the measure. Seven years longer the farmers waited, patiently going to Cambridge to meeting, the nearest of them being five miles distant, when they again renewed their petition. Both parties were heard, and, after due con- sideration, the prayer for a separate parish was granted, and, on December 15, i6gi, the act creating it became a law. No name was given to the parish in the act itself, but, from that time, it became known as the North Parish in Cambridge, or commonly, as the Parish of Cambridge Farms. The boundaries began, as the record says, at the water or swampy place where is a kind of bridge, south of the house of Francis Whitmore, and running south-west and north-east between Watertown and Woburn, setting off all the land north of it which belonged to Cambridge. This was, substantially, the territory now comprised in the town of Lexington. The house of Francis Whitmore must have been near the present residence of Mr. Alderman.
Such was the original North Parish in Cambridge, or Cambridge Farms, as constituted by the General Court, Dec. 15, 1691. The first meeting under this act did not take place, however, until the 2 2d, of April, 1692, when the people met and chose David Fiske, Sr., as the clerk of the Parish to record the votes. They resolved to invite Mr. Benjamin Estabrook to preach for them for one year from May I, 1692, and a committee was appointed to communi- cate the action of the parish and receive his answer. Pre- vious to this, the work of building a meeting-house had been commenced, and, during the year 1692, it was pre- pared for the occupancy of the parish. At what time the first service was held in it, we have no means of knowing.
28 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
Nothing is said of a dedication. It was used for worship when only partially finished, a plain, barnlike structure, covered with rough boards and shingle roof, without steeple or paint. Inside the church there was neither plaster nor paint. The timbers were all exposed. Rude benches extended across from the middle aisle, on either side, to the outer aisles : on one side sat the men, on the other, the women, all placed according to their supposed importance in the parish, measured by their property, age and social position. The boys were on a bench in the rear where they might be inspected. There were galleries on three sides and men's stairs and women's stairs leading to them. Subsequently, upper galleries were added, and the inside ceiled up with boards. William Reed was allowed to put in "a settee " for Goodwife Reed, and several of the men built "handsome seats, against the wall" for their wives, though not allowed to sit with them. This structure stood at the junction of Massachusetts Avenue and Bed- ford Street, not on the Common, but below it, where the Memorial Fountain now stands, and fronted down Massa- chusetts Avenue. It had three outside doors, no porches, no means of warming it, few windows and many crevices for ventilation. The original cost, as shown by the sub- scription paper, was between £tQ and £'J0. Twenty-two different family names appear on the list of subscribers, forty-three in all, pledging sums from los, the lowest, to 2£ I2S, the highest. Thirteen of these names are repre- sented in Lexington, now, by their descendants or persons bearing similar names.
In this meeting-house Benjamin Estabrook, a graduate of Harvard in the class of 1690, son of Rev. Joseph Estabrook of Concord, began his ministry as the preacher of Cam- bridge Farms, in May 1692, and continued until his death,
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 29
in July 1697, when but twenty-six years of age. He was not regularly ordained and settled, however, until more than four years after he began preaching here, viz : in Oc- tober, 1696, probably because the people were unable to make suitable provision for a life settlement, every minister then being settled for life. He received £/\q a year, half money and half in other pay at money prices, which shall be "for his salary and his entertainments." A house was built for him on the land now owned by Mr. William Plumer, and presented to him on the condition of his " abiding with us till God's Providence otherwise dispose of him." Mr. Estabrook died shortly after his ordination and settlement, to the great disappointment and grief of the people ; evidently, a young man of fine promise and sin- cerely beloved by his parishioners.
After a few months he was succeeded by Rev. John Hancock, who preached for some time on probation and then received a call to settle over the parish. He accepted it and was ordained in November, 1698, as the second min- ister, and held the office until his death in 1752, a period of fifty-four years. John Hancock was a native of Cambridge, son of Nathaniel, the Cordwainer, and a graduate of Har- vard in the class of 1689. He appears to have spent several years in teaching, before he came here, while pre- paring for the ministry, preaching, also, in Medford and in Groton for some time. According to agreement with the parish he was to receive ;^8o for a settlement, as it was termed, and ;^45 a year with a quarterly collection. This was, afterwards, advanced to £^0 a year ; but the deprecia- tion of the currency went steadily on until the salary was hardly half that sum in good money.
In 1698, Mr. Hancock bought twenty-five acres of land of Benjamin Muzzey, lying on both sides of what is now Han-
30 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
cock Street, and, soon after, built the small, one story, gam- brel-roof house now forming the ell of the Hancock-Clark house. He married Elizabeth, daughter of Rev. Thomas Clark, minister of Chelmsford, and, in that humble cottage their five children were born and grew up to manhood and womanhood, ultimately filling a large place in the history of the town, the state and the nation. Two of the sons grad- uated at Harvard. John and Ebenezer became ministers and a third son, Thomas, became the great Boston mer- chant, who bought Beacon Hill and built the famous Han- cock mansion there, and also, the two story front of the old parsonage, here, for his father and mother. The daughters married clergymen and the descendants of John and Elizabeth Hancock have been among the most disting- uished men and women of our country. I believe we may trace twenty-five ministers back to progenitors connected, in some way, with that venerable house, besides physicians, lawyers and authors.
In 171 3, the parish of Cambridge Farms became the town of Lexington, and, thenceforth, the affairs of the church were managed by the town, like the schools, the roads and the poor.
The first meeting-house had become dilapidated, though it had stood only about twenty years, and, accordingly, it was voted " to under-prop the great beams, mend the leaky places, and build a new one in convenient time, after the new mode like Concord." No bell had been used to call the people together for worship up to the year 1700 ; prob- ably a drum was used for that purpose. The town then voted to ask Cambridge for the bell, probably an old one, no longer in use there and the request appears to have been granted. ** A turriott " was erected to hang it on — probably a belfry placed on the ground.
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 3 1
In due time the new meeting-house was built, costing about ;^500, and was first occupied in October 1714 : a much more spacious, comfortable and elegant edifice than the old one, but, apparently, of the same general appear- ance. It was 40 by 50 feet on the ground, and 28 feet in height, with two tiers of galleries on three sides, in the upper of which the town's powder was kept, and the negroes seated on Sunday. It had three tiers of windows and three outside doors and was unpainted outside and in- side, excepting the pulpit, the front of the galleries and the pillars supporting them which, we are told, were colored. Like its predecessor, it had no steeple and no provision for warming. Here Mr. Hancock preached until his death and here his funeral was held after his long ministry had come to an end. The town generously granted £^QQ, O.T. and observed the event by copious eating and drinking at the public houses, providing mourning weeds, gloves and rings for bearers and relatives, and digging and bricking up the grave ; bills for which appear on the town records. In 1734, Ebenezer Hancock, his youngest son, had been or- dained and settled as his colleague. For several years he taught the Grammar School in the town and *' assisted his honored father," as the record tells us ; a young man of large promise and noble nature, whom the people regarded with great respect and esteem, and whose death, in his 30th year, after six years of service, was sincerely mourned.
Little is told in our records regarding the forms of wor- ship in Mr. Hancock's time. The singing was by the con- gregation, the deacon giving out two lines at a time and the people singing them after him. The Bible was not read as a part of the service. This custom, now universal, was not introduced into the churches until long afterwards. No musical instruments were used in the service and the wor-
32 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
ship must have been destitute of beauty or variety and, hence, uninteresting and tedious to the young. Two long- prayers, a long sermon, generally read from manuscript, and two of the psalms sung to dolorous tunes and without much regard for time or harmony.
Every Sunday there were two such services, with an hour's intermission. This was spent by the men at some public house, discussing the news of the day or the morn- ing sermon, and enlivened by copious draughts of flip always in readiness for the occasion. In the meeting- house, during service, tything men were stationed at differ- ent points, provided with long poles to keep the boys in order and to break up the slumbers of ungodly men. Dur- ing the intermission men were placed in the galleries to see that there was no irreverent conduct, and, at one time, a paper was given the minister to read, regulating the coming down stairs. There were no pew rents, the expenses being paid by a tax assessed on all the property of the town.
While no paper of a worldly or secular concernment was allowed posted on the meeting house, lest the house be de- filed, or as it is sometimes expressed be " damnified there- by," all town meetings were held in it, except on very cold days, when adjournment was made to some tavern where the people could keep warm. Such were some of the cus- toms prevalent in Mr. Hancock's time, which are noticed upon our records.
After the old minister's death, three years passed away in hearing candidates, before a choice was made of Jonas Clarke as his successor, a native of Newton and a graduate of Harvard in the class of 1753. He was ordained in No- vember, 1755, and remained the minister of Lexington until his death in 1805, a period of fifty years ; a bold, strong, progressive man, of untiring industry in his work and un-
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 33
flagging zeal in the cause of American Independence. Marrying the grandanghter of his predecessor, Lucy Bowes, daughter of the minister at Bedford, he began house-keeping in the old parsonage, and, after the death of Madam Hancock, in 1760, bought the place of Thomas, the princely Boston merchant. Here their twelve children, six sons and six daughters were born, and lived to attain the years of adult life. Here Mr. and Mrs. Clarke spent the remaining years of life, and the last of the family, two unmarried daughters, died there in 1843. Thus the Han- cocks and the Clarkes occupied the place nearly 150 years. It was the rallying point of the patriot statesmen of this region during the Revolutionary period, for consultation upon the momentous affairs of the country. It was, also, a visiting place tor distinguished scholars and literary men from the college and the city, and of the clergy in this por- tion of Middlesex County. The best society of the town and of the colony often met within its walls and around the hospitable board of "the patriot priest" as Mr. Clarke was called. Four of his daughters married ministers, and his sons became men of note, as bankers, merchants and government officials. Thus the old house became a foun- tain of good influences which flowed out, far and wide, making the common life more rich in culture, refinement and virtue.
Forty years of Mr. Clarke's ministry were passed in the second meeting house, erected in 1714, and standing on the Common at the time of the battle, with the belfry standing near it. In it he was ordained and in it he preached those stirring sermons which roused the spirit of resistance to in- justice that proved so strong in his pet'ple when the time of trial came. But the event which has invested that meet- ing house with the deepest interest is that of the 19th of
34 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
April, 1775, when a little company of Lexington farmers were drawn up behind it, to defend their rights with their lives. What a scene it witnessed on that eventful morning, — seventy or eighty men, hastily summoned from their homes, standing there, in then homespun clothing, armed with their old fowling pieces, to face a battalion of the best disciplined troops in the world, and ready to lay down their lives for justice and liberty, for home and country, and the rights of mankind ! And into that old meeting house were borne the bodies of the slain and laid upon the floor of its aisles, after the bloody work was done. Tradition tells us that a woman, returning from market to her home in Car- lisle, on that morning after the British had marched on towards Concord, came to the Common, dismounted from her horse, went into the Church and saw the bodies lying there. What a scene the funeral must have been, in the old meeting house, when Mr. Clarke spoke of the awful tragedy in which ten of his parishioners had perished and whose bodies lay before him in the place where, on the pre- vious Sabbath, they had joined in the worship ! Above his head, as he stood in the pulpit, was the hole in the window where a cannon ball passed through the house, burying it- self in the ground a few rods behind him ; and before him were gathered a great multitude from this and the sur- rounding towns, to join in the solemn services. What won- der if words of bitterness were spoken and purposes of ven- geance were kindled by that awful scene !
But nothing could save the old meeting house. These stirring memories seem to have counted for little towards preserving it from destruction. Were it standing today we would gladly cover it with gold to keep it from decay and save it for the generations to come. Governor Hancock, whose service in the cause of Independence had done so
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 35
much to invest it with undying interest, whose grandfather had preached in it for forty years, and whose father was christened in it on the first Sunday after his birth, led the way for its destruction by offering to give the town $ioo towards building a new one, — the record says " as soon as they struck ax to timber" in its construction. Even Par- son Clarke joined in the crusade against the venerable house by adding 1^30 to Governor Hancock's gift. And so, after eighty years of service in the sheltering of patriotism and religion, it was pulled down, to give place to a much larger, more costly and elegant structure, the third meeting house of Lexington, built in 1794 and dedicated January 15, 1795. Evidently the people were very proud of their new house of worship and of the Bible which Governor Han- cock gave, to be read in the service, and which the people accepted on the promise of Mr. Clarke, that the reading should not increase the length of the service, as one of the deacons declared that he wanted to get home and do his chores before dark. The third meeting house was re- garded as a noble edifice, far more comfortable than the old one, with a lofty steeple, three spacious vestibules and a large bell which could be heard all over the town, ringing the people to meeting, ringing them to bed at nine o'clock at night, tolling when they died to tell everybody how old they were, and when their bodies were borne to the last resting place.
It had some pretentions to architectural beauty, and what doubtless pleased the people not a little was its superiority to the Concord meeting house, it being much more spacious and comfortable. Pews were placed on the floor and in the galleries, instead of long benches, and after its completion they were sold at auction, a flag being hoisted in each pew when bids were asked for, on which
36 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
was inscribed " For Sail," and so well did the pews " sail " that, after paying all the cost of construction, above ^2000 remained as a surplus. The house was painted a pea-green, and horse blocks were built at the doors.
In the new meeting house a choir was organized, and musical instruments, the chief of which was the great bass viol, were used to aid the singers. A singing school was established, and the town made an appropriation to buy candles and wood, to encourage the singers if they would " set " together in the gallery; and they decided to sit there. Hymn books were now procured by the people and the old custom of lineing the hymns was given up. Thus the wor- ship in the new house during the last years of Mr. Clarke's ministry was made far more attractive and satisfactory, es- pecially to the young people. The good old minister, ac- tive, vigorous and useful almost to the last, enjoyed the new place of worship for ten years, and in 1805 was gath- ered to his fathers, full of years and honors, though not of riches, as the inventory of his estate plainly shows, where the old horse is put down at ^8 and the chaise at ;^3, each of his heirs receiving about 1^130. His diary closes, after fifty years of faithful keeping, with these words, " Finished haying today." The trembling hand could write no more and in a few weeks was still in death.
In December, 1807, after two years of candidating. Rev. Avery Williams was ordained as Mr. Clarke's successor, the fifth minister of Lexington. Like all his predecessors, he was settled for life ; a native of Guildford, Vt., the son of Rev. Henry Williams of that town, and a graduate of Dartmouth College and Princeton Theological Seminary. He remained the minister of the town for eight years, when, on account of feeble health, incapacitating him for continuous service, he resigned and sought in the South
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 37
for a renewal of his ability to labor ; but it was too late.
He gradually sank under disease and died in the follow- ing year, 1816. His was the last life settlement of Lex- ington ministers. The town voted him 1^750, when the connection was dissolved, being legally bound to pay his salary as long as he lived, whether he was able to render service or not. From what we learn of Mr. Williams, he was regarded as a man of ability and worth, scholarly in his habits and tastes, and a faithful worker in this vineyard of the Lord. He lived in the old Dr. Spaulding house, at the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and Clark Street.
He was accustomed to receive boys into his family and to prepare them for college. Ezra Stiles Gannett, the famous Boston preacher, was one of the lads who passed a year in that old house under his instruction and care. Beyond the Centennial sermon, on the anniversary of the incorporation of Lexington in 171 3> there is nothing remaining of his literary productions in our possession. That historical dis- course is, certainly, an able and creditable piece of work, adding much to our knowledge of the early life which would otherwise have been lost. When it was preached there were those living here who remembered Parson Han- cock, and nearly all the congregation had been the parish- ioners of Jonas Clarke. Mr. Francis Wyman was probably the last who remembered Mr. Clarke. A few still Unger among us who remember Avery Williams. Four lives, therefore, easily cover the period between us and Benjamin Estabrook, the first minister of Lexington.
Rev. James Walker, afterwards pastor of the Harvard Church in Charlestown, and later, President of Harvard University, was invited to succeed Mr. Williams, but declined. Rev. Charles Briggs was finally chosen and remained the pastor until 1835, a period of sixteen years.
38 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
« He was the last of the ministers whose parish included the
whole town. During his ministry two other churches were organized in the town, the Baptist and the Church at East Lexington. Mr. Briggs lived in a portion of the house now belonging to Mr. James F. Russell and occupied' as a hotel. He had quite a farm, extending back toward the Scotland Schoolhouse and covering the land now occupied by the village at the Crossing.
During much of the time of Mr. Briggs' ministry he was in poor health and unable to render the efficient service which the church needed. His pastorate was terminated at his own request and with the expression of kind and gen- erous feeling on the part of the people. Rev. William G. Swett succeeded him, a man still pleasantly remembered in the town ; somewhat eccentric, but of a genial spirit, fond of a good story or joke and full of sympathy and kindness. He endeared himself to the young people and was the friend and helper of all ; a man of scholarly and brilliant mind. His ministry covered only three years and came to an end in 1839. His niece, a sister's daughter, is living in Florence, Italy, where she has won an honorable reputa- tion as an artist and as an authoress. Ruskin has taken a warm interest in her career, and wrote an introduction for two or three little volumes of her sketches of Italian life and character, under the title of " Wayside Songs in Tus- cany," a series of short but charming stories. The books are in the Cary Library.
After a period of five or six years, in which the pulpit was supplied by Rev. Messrs. Rice, Knapp, Crufts and Samuel J. May, the First Parish was separated wholly from the town, and incorporated as the First Congregational Society of Lexington, which is still its name. Up to that time, all its business affairs, the calling of a minister, the
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 39
payment of his salary, the repairs upon the meeting-house, were transacted under town warrants, in town meeting, giv- ing rise to endless bickering and strife. The Society was immediately reorganized, an invitation given to Rev. Jason Whitman to become its pastor and the work of improving and reconstructing the meeting-house begun. Mr. Whit- man accepted the invitation and was installed in July, 1845, entering upon his ministry under the most hopeful circumstances. In the prime of life, full of enthusiasm, devoted to his work, after several years of experience in Portland and Saco, Me., with fine powers as a preacher and pastor, his ministry opened with every promise of large and high success. But after a brief service of two years and a half, he was suddenly smitten down in the midst of great usefulness and his ministry here transferred to a brighter one in the world above. The meeting-house, thoroughly repaired and refurnished, was burned to the ground on Dec. 17, 1846, just before it was to be rededi- cated. It was a severe blow to the Society and caused years of litigation and trouble. The Baptist Society imme- diately offered the use of their house, which offer was grate- fully accepted and there was held the funeral of the beloved pastor, Mr. Whitman, in January, 1848.
Steps were immediately taken to erect a new house of worship, and the fourth meeting-house of the parish was built on Elm Ave., where it remains unto this day. It was dedicated Feb. 25, 1848, one month after Mr. Whitman's funeral.
Rev. Fiske Barrett succeeded Mr. Whitman in a brief ministry of nearly three years, terminated at his own request. He was followed by Rev. N A. Staples who remained for a similar period and then accepted a call to a church in Milwaukee where he ministered until the opening
40 CAMBRIDGE FARMS.
of the Civil War, when he entered the army as Chaplain of the Sixth Wisconsin Regiment. Here a severe illness, brought on by the exposure and hardship of camp Ufe, broke him down so utterly that he never recovered. He became pastor of the Second Unitarian Church in Brook- lyn, N. Y., where he died in February, 1864, in his thirty- third year.
Rev. Leonard J. Livermore succeeded Mr. Staples in Lexington, in October, 1857, and continued in the service of the Society for nine years, resigning in September, 1866. He afterwards became pastor of the Unitarian Church in Danvers, where he ministered until his death in June, 1886, after a pastorate of nearly twenty years.
The ministry of Rev. Henry Westcott followed that of Mr. Livermore, in Lexington, and extended from June, 1867 until June, 1881, when he resigned, a period of four- teen years. Subsequently he was installed over the Unitarian Church in Melrose, and died suddenly, after a prosperous pastorate, in June, 1883, in the prime of his years.
This brings the record down to the settlement of the present pastor. Rev. C. A. Staples, October 31, 1881, and the story, altogether, covers two full centuries.
The average length of the pastorates has been fourteen years. 2402 funerals are recorded in our church books and 664 marriages. Rev. John Hancock and his son recorded 645 funerals and 60 marriages. Rev. Jonas Clarke re- corded 556 funerals of which 202, or over 36 per cent, are of infants and children, and 218 marriages.
I have recorded 238 funerals, of which barely 7 per cent, are of children under 12 years, and 59 weddings.
I quote these statistics from our records to show that a vast gain has been made in the care and preservation of child-life in these 200 years.
CAMBRIDGE FARMS. 41
I wish I could show, clearly, as large a gain in the moral life of the town, and yet I am inclined to believe that it has really taken place, and I hope, sometime, to be able to prove it.
May the old parish and all other parishes in the town be ever reaching out and pressing on towards better life for body, mind and soul in their people, and a better life for the state and the nation.
CHARLES FOLLEN.
Read bv James P. Munroe, March 12, 1891.
It is sometimes noted with regret, almost with apology, that Lexington has not on the rolls of her citizens such great names as those of which Concord can boast. To few towns, indeed, has it been given to shelter an Emerson and a Hawthorne ; but Lexington can point to two men, besides her heroes of the Revolution, who gave themselves, heart and soul, to the progress of liberty, to the cause of the injured slave. Theodore Parker and Charles Follen died too soon to see the results of their great labors in the cause of freedom ; but their names will live forever in the catalogue of those who maintained, in the face of every obstacle, the right, and who " would be heard."
Charles Follen, whose whole name was Karl Theodor Christian Follenius, was born in Romrod, Hesse, not far from Frankfort, September 4, 1796. His father was a counsellor-at-law at Giessen, near which Romrod is situ- ated, and was a man of ability and influence. His mother died when he was three years old, leaving three sons — of whom Charles was the second — and a daughter. Four years later his father married again, and this stepmother showed wise and loving devotion to her husband's children. Nevertheless, Charles Follen's childhood was not happy. Of a sensitive, serious, almost morbid nature, like children of that stamp, he was little understood. He overcame this disadvantage, however, and, after passing through the usual courses of study, entered, at sixteen years of age, the University of Giessen. Just at that time, the German
CHARLES POLLEN. 43
states having roused themselves from the paralysis of Napoleon's successes, and having been given courage, by his disastrous Russian campaign, to declare war against him, the students of the universities were called to arms. Soon after the Battle of Leipsic, Charles and his two brothers joined a rifle corps of students. Charles was not called upon to fight, but his elder brother won military dis- tinction.
The feeling of nationality aroused by this appeal to arms against Bonaparte was not to be readily quenched. The success of the uprising against the invader had shown how much of good a union of petty principalities might accom- plish ; a short experience of the Code Napoleon had given some of the states a taste of representative government, and the close of the campaign against the French found the German youth ripe for revolution. The sectional spirit theretofore strong in Germany, had been greatly fostered by the organization of the university students into societies upon sectional lines. The student in Germany has a far larger influence upon politics than in America, and the rivalry and duels between members of the different corps did much to perpetuate the disunion of the Teutonic states.
In order that they might secure a larger measure of free- dom for themselves and the other Germans, the wiser students saw that they must break down these silly corps barriers ; and Follen early associated himself with them in forming the Burschenschaft, a union of students from all parts of Germany to oppose and destroy the sectional and partisan societies. The leaders of the old corps were highly incensed at this independent action ; and they were especially bitter against Follen, who, in addition to his activity in the new society, had, by the purity and diligence of his own life, made silent protest against the prevailing
44 CHARLES POLLEN.
license and idleness of the universities. They challenged him again and again to broadsword duels, hoping to break his spirit, but he courageously accepted all challenges, hav- ing made himself a master of athletic exercises under the training of the famous gymnast, Jung. At last the Bur- schenschaft was reported to the government as treasonable in its tendency, and the rectors of the universities were called upon to investigate it. Needless to say, they found no evidence of guilt. Thereupon Follen published a pam- phlet setting forth the objects and acts of the Burschen- schaft, a pamphlet which is interesting in that it shows him, at twenty-one, imbued with the strong love of liberty and fair play which distinguished him through life. In this same year, 1817, he received the degree of Doctor of Civil and Ecclesiastical Law.
Hardly had he begun the practice of his profession than he again took up the cause of freedom and justice. The Grand Duke of Hesse had issued a decree relative to the collection of debts, into the details of which it is unneces- sary to go, but the result of which would have been to take away the last semblance of local self-government. The burgomasters of the several towns begged Follen to pre- sent a petition from them, praying that this decree be rescinded, and to argue the justice of this petition. This task Follen readily and successfully undertook, though, in doing so, he knew he forfeited all chance for promotion in his native country. Indeed, his bold course in the matter subjected him at once to persecution from the government, so that he found it advisable to leave Giessen. He went thence to Jena to lecture upon jurisprudence. He was well received in Jena ; but six months after his arrival occurred the murder of Kotzebue. This poet and playwright, who was much in vogue, had, by his satire of the young Ger-
CHARLES POLLEN. 45
man liberal party, given rise to the suspicion of being a Russian spy, in the pay of the autocratic party. Therefore a fanatic named Sand murdered him. All the friends of Sand, including Follen, were at once arrested. Follen was found, of course, innocent of all connection with the crime ; yet, four months later, and in the middle of the night, he was again arrested. Examined, cross-questioned, and con- fronted with Sand, in the hope of proving him guilty, he was nevertheless acquitted, but was forbidden again to lec- ture in Jena. Finding that the influence of his father and of other powerful friends at Giessen, whither he had returned, could not save him, Follen left Germany for Paris, where he became intimate with Lafayette. There again occurred a political murder to drive him away. The Bourbon Duke de Berri was assassinated, and immediately all foreigners without definite business in France were ordered to leave the country. Follen went to Switzerland, accepted a professorship in one of the cantonal schools, but, spreading doctrines unwelcome to the Calvinist clergy, was soon asked to resign. He was then called to the Uni- versity of Basle to lecture upon law. There he was most happily placed ; but this mild youth after having suffered persecution from his fellow-students, from the Grand Duke of Hesse, from the French government and the Calvinistic synod, was now to encounter the thunders of the " Holy Alliance." Russia, Austria and Prussia, having joined, and, with England's help, put down Napoleon, now maintained their "holy" alliance for the suppression of freedom throughout Europe. On the 27th of August, 1824, the three governments sent notes to the Canton of Basle demanding that Follen, who ceaselessly preached liberty, be given up for trial. These notes were accompanied by a request from the government of Berne, urging Basle, for
46 CHARLES FOLLEN.
the sake of Switzerland's safety, to surrender him. Basle, however, refused. Thereupon came a second formal de- mand from the allied powers threatening the Republic and supplemented by notes of urgency from Berne, Zurich and Lucerne. This was too much even for courageous little Basle, and Follen was warned by the authorities to flee. This he refused to do, and demanded a trial ; whereupon the Canton ordered his arrest. Upon this, urged by his friends, he made his escape, leaving behind him the follow- ing declaration :
"Whereas the Republic of Switzerland, which has pro- tected so many fugitive princes, noblemen and priests, would not protect him, who, like them, is a republican, he is compelled to take refuge in the great asylum of liberty, the United States of America. His false accusers he sum- mons before the tribunal of God and public opinion. Laws he has never violated. But the heinous crime of having loved his country has rendered him guilty to such a degree, that he feels quite unworthy to be pardoned by the Holy Alliance."
His friends assisted in every way in his escape, one tak- ing him out of the city concealed under the boot of his chaise, another, who resembled him, giving up to him his passport, and at Havre, Captain Allen of the " Cadmus," the vessel which had just returned from taking Lafayette to America, affording him every protection.
Follen landed in New York in December, 1824, and he says : " I wanted to kneel upon the ground, and kiss it and cling to it with my hands, lest it should even then escape my grasp." How soon was he to find what a mockery our boasted freedom at that time was ! Immediately upon arriving he wrote to Lafayette, who gave him letters and advised him to go to Boston. Before doing this, he
CHARLES POLLEN. 47
devoted himself to the study of English, and was so extra- ordinarily successful that in less than a year he was able fluently to deliver, in Boston, a course of lectures on the Civil Law. As one reads his writings it is a matter of astonishment to note the ease and skill with which he han- dles our idiomatic tongue. Only once in many pages does he betray his foreign birth.
In the fall of 1825 Follen was appointed a teacher of German at Harvard College, and later he was made head of a gymnasium in Boston. He began at the same time the preparation of a grammar and reader of the German lang- uage which was subsequently in extensive use. Every- where he met with much kindness, his intimacy with Lafayette opening to him many doors which his own worth and talents kept afterwards ajar. Soon after his arrival he met, through the introduction of his friend Miss Sedgwick, Miss Eliza Lee Cabot, to whom he was later married.
During the following winter he met Dr. Channing, who at once exerted a tremendous influence upon Follen, so much so that soon, under Channing's urgency, he decided to prepare for the ministry. To that end, he spent the Summer of 1827 at Newport studying under Channing's direction. In the following year, having meanwhile kept up his work at Harvard and in the gymnasium, he was for- mally admitted as a candidate for the ministry. He now not only was anxious to preach, but, having been betrothed to Miss Cabot, he was in haste to marry. By taking, in addition to his other duties, the position of instructor in Ecclesiastical History and Ethics, both wishes were real- ized. On September 15, 1828 he was married, and in March, 1830, to his great joy, he was naturalized a citizen of the United States.
In the Summer of 1830 he preached at Newburyport and
48 CHARLES FOLLEN.
was invited to settle there ; but just then Harvard College, upon the presentation of the sum of five hundred dollars a year for five years, had agreed to found a professorship of German Literature and to ask Follen to fill it. At last everything seemed prosperous ; he had apparently an as- sured and honorable position, the atmosphere of Cambridge was congenial, his wife and child were well and happy. Therefore, he prepared to make this his life-work, pur- chased land, and built a house. But a chance conversation with a poor negro affected him so strongly that he went to see Garrison in that famous little attic printing-house, and the whole course of his life was changed. He began to realize that the Declaration of Independence was a living lie, that America was free only in name ; and, less than two years later, he joined the Anti-Slavery Society, then but a year old. That he knew how much this step involved is shown by his saying to Mrs. Follen : " If I join the Anti- Slavery Society I shall certainly lose all chance of a perma- nent place in the College or perhaps anywhere else." Later he said : "I did not feel at liberty to stand aloof from a Society whose only object was the abolition of slav- ery." Shortly afterwards, in January, 1834, he was chosen chairman of a committee to draft an address on the sub- ject of slavery. It is a splendid piece of writing, clear, calm, logical, pitiless in its serenity. It never stoops to invective, never appeals to passion, but finds its arguments in the Declaration of Independence, in the natural rights of man, in human justice. In summing up, he says, in part : " You who believe in the Gospel of redemption, you who believe that the day will come when we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, how will you stand before Him who tries and judges the heart.? . . . When a band of those, who in your day and generation were kept in
CHARLES FOLLEN. 49
slavery, shall rise on the right hand of the Judge to witness against you, do you think that the testimony of the colored man, rejected here, will be rejected also in the Court of Eternal Justice ? Or do you believe that you may evade the sentence of the Judge by pleading that you attended to all the bodily wants and comforts of the slave, . . . when you refused food and clothing, freedom, respect and love to the immortal soul ? Or, do you think yourselves safe under the plea that you yourselves were not slaveholders, . . . when in any degree it depended on your exertions to put an end to the very existence of slavery in this world ? "
'* You to whom the destinies of this country are com- mitted ... if you are Republicans, not by birth only, but from principle, then let the avenues, all the avenues of light and liberty, of truth and love, be opened wide to every soul within the nation, — that the bitterest curse of millions may no longer be that they were born and bred in ' the land of the free and the home of the brave. ' "
During these years he was warned again and again that the public expression of his opinions would ruin his pros- pects at Harvard. His only answer was : " Is this my duty .? What will be its consequences is a secondary mat- ter." The warnings were too true. At the end of the five years when the original subscription to found the professor- ship of German literature had expired, he asked if his posi- tion was to be continued. The answer came that it was considered inexpedient, but that he might, if he chose, resume his original place as a teacher of German, at 1^500 a year. He could not, of course, accept this humiliating proposal, and, after ten years of faithful service to the col- lege, he must again look for means to earn his bread. He planned to start a school, but poverty forbade. He lec- tured, gave lessons and preached here and there, among
50 CHARLES POLLEN.
other places in East Lexington. The first recorded meet- ing of the people there for public worship was on April 5, 1835, and, on that and the following two Sundays, Charles Follen preached. Ralph Waldo Emerson probably had preached earlier, as he did later, to the people of the vill- age, though the record, beyond that of tradition, is not pre- served.
Just as his professorship expired, Mr. Follen received an invitation to superintend the education of the sons of Mr. James Perkins. He accepted the offer, as it promised com- petence and freedom, but, in doing so, he wrote at some length to their guardian, setting forth his views on educa- tion and the manner in which he purposed dealing with these boys. In this letter he says :
..." If I undertook the superintendence of their educa- ion. ... I should feel bound to educate them not only for college but for life ; I should study their natures, awake every dormant energy, cherish every generous sentiment, and lead them to form such habits and tastes as would qualify them to act an honorable part in those relations in life which they would be called upon to sustain. I should endeavor not only to furnish them with general informa- tion, but to discover any individual talent and taste that, by proper cultivation, might give to their pursuits in after life a decided direction to some practical object. For I believe that to a young man called to the possession of wealth there is no temptation so great as that which arises from having no decided object in life, no pursuit that occupies his mind in his many hours of leisure."
This arrangement was a very happy one, and the life of the Follens and their three young charges at Watertown and at Milton, was wholly satisfactory ; but at the end of a year the necessity of dividing his authority with others
CHARLES FOLLEN. 51
impelled Dr. Follen to relinquish this congenial task. His almost morbid conscience would not allow him to continue in an arrangement that did not permit of his doing his duty, as he saw it, to the fullest extent.
During this happy year the Pollens became intimate with Harriet Martineau, who was making her well-known jour- ney through the United States. Her influence, together with that of the mobbing of Garrison, moved Dr. Follen to even bolder expression of his anti-slavery views. On Janu- ary 20, 1836, he made a stirring address before the Anti- Slavery Society in support of the following resolutions : " Resolved, That we consider the anti-slavery cause as the cause of philanthropy, with regard to which all human beings, white men and colored men, citizens and foreigners, men and women, have the same duties and the same rights." This he advocated in opposition to the movement to exclude negroes, foreigners and women from fellowship in the work.
Soon thereafter the Governor of Massachusetts, in his annual message, censured the abolitionists ; the legislatures of some of the Southern States formally asked that they be suppressed, and action was therefore taken. A committee of the General Court was appointed to investigate their doings and to recommend procedure. The Anti-Slavery Society immediately appointed a committee to appear be- fore this legislative committee, and, if possible, to avert action against the abolitionists. For this duty were chosen Garrison, May, Ellis Gray Loring, William Goodell and Charles Follen.
The following summer was spent at Stockbridge. While there, an invitation came from the parish of the First Uni- tarian Church of New York City to preach to them. This offer he accepted, and October 30, 1836, he was ordained
52 CHARLES POLLEN.
at Dr. Channing's church in Boston, Mr. Caleb Stetson preaching the ordination sermon. Follen was greatly be- loved in his New York parish and all went well until Thanksgiving Day, when, in the course of his sermon, he touched upon slavery. His remarks disturbed and angered many of the congregation, two members leaving with much ostentation. Only a few lines setting forth truths perfectly obvious then as now ; but courageous words to utter before a New York audience in 1836! Their result was shown at the meeting of the pewholders six months later. Of this Dr. Follen's diary says : " Meeting of pewholders : result of vote. Shall Dr. F. be invited to remain with us .-' — Yeas, 27 ; nays, 16." Nevertheless it was so strongly represented to him that the better parishioners wished him to remain that he consented to stay a year longer. A busy, useful year it was. Not only was his preaching satisfac- tory, but the influence of himself and his wife upon the parish and in behalf of the poor was productive of the high- est good. He continued, however, to speak fearlessly against slavery, and at the expiration of this second year the opposition to his ministry had gained such strength that he declined to be a candidate for the permanent pastorate of the church.
He returned to Boston and occupied himself in lecturing, in occasional preaching and in writing a book which he had long had in view, — a treatise on psychology. He formed plans, too, for a journey to Switzerland in the summer, being assured that it was safe for him to return there. His arrangements for this holiday were already made when he received an urgent request from the society at East Lex- ington to become their minister for a year if possible', or at least for six months. They represented to him that they were too poor to pay more than a very small salary, but
CHARLES POLLEN. 53
that, unless he came to gather them together, the feeble parish would fall to pieces. With his usual spirit of self- sacrifice and in a hope that he might, perhaps, found here an ideal, unsectarian, Christian church, he gave up his cher- ished trip to Switzerland and accepted the call to East Lexington .
He had stipulated that he should not be held to the usual parish duties, and he hoped now to carry out his long- deferred plan of finishing his treatise on psychology. A large and comfortable house — that just beyond the present church — had been taken for him, the people of the parish lent ready hands to put it in order, and once more his be- loved books, so many times packed away in his various changes of residence, were spread around him. He looked forward to a long summer of literary work ; but at once his active, sympathetic nature became deeply concerned in the affairs of the village, the earnest project for erecting a meeting-house enlisted his heartiest interest, and almost immediately he found himself wholly engaged in preparing plans for the building, in begging assistance from his many wealthy and influential friends, and in helping the people make preparations for the great fair that was to add materi- ally to the building fund. So active was his parish that on the Fourth of July after his arrival, ground was broken for the new edifice. He was immensely interested in its progress, watching its growth from day to day with a pleas- ure doubled by the fact of his being its architect. He had highest hopes and plans for his adopted town and had in- duced some of his friends, should he remain, to build in East Lexington, as he himself had made his preparations to do. It is said that among these friends was Wendell Phillips, who had selected a site. So great was the power of Pollen's strong, gentle nature over every one with whom
54 CHARLES POLLEN.
he came in contact, that, had he been spared to live and work in East Lexington, his influence upon our town would undoubtedly have been most extraordinary. That his pres- ence here for less than a year made so deep and lasting an impression is sufficient proof of this.
Finally the church building was so far advanced that preparations were made for its dedication. Follen writes to Dr. Channing, under date of October ii, 1839: "My affairs in this village are essentially the same The people have formed themselves into a society under the name of the Christian Association of East Lexington. They have passed a vote to request me to continue with them, promis- ing to increase my salary as soon as it is in their power. The new church will be ready for dedication probably about the middle or the latter part of November. It is to be a temple of freedom, and as such, commends itself to you, and I trust it will be dedicated by you to its service."
But the building was somewhat delayed, and, having been asked to give a course of lectures in New York, which would necessitate an absence of several weeks, the dedica- tion was postponed until January 15, 1840. Mrs. Follen and their son accompanied him to New York. Soon after their arrival Mrs. Follen was taken dangerously ill and it was soon evident that it would be impossible for her to re- turn to Lexington in time for the dedication. He wrote at once, therefore, to the committee of the church, asking that the ceremony be postponed a week, representing to them not only that Mrs. FoUen's absence would be a mat- ter of regret to him, but also that it would be necessary for him to return to New York for her should they find it im- possible to defer the dedication. He left the question, however, entirely to their decision, and, most unhappily as events proved, the committee concluded that it was not for
CHARLES POLLEN. 55
the best interests of the church to delay its opening. Dr. Follen, though much disappointed, appreciated their posi- tion and cheerfully made his preparations for the journey. The steamboat " Lexington " on which he had gone to New York, was considered very unsafe ; therefore, to satisfy Mrs. Follen, who had unhappy forebodings of dis- aster, he made every inquiry concerning the vessel, only to meet assurances from those competent to judge, of her en- tire safety. He set off, however, with a heavy heart, de- ciding at the last moment not to take his son who, it had been planned, should accompany him. The " Lexington " left New York on Monday. Dr. Follen not having arrived on Wednesday, and all preparations having been made, the dedication services were regretfully held without him. The next day came the dreadful news that the " Lexington " had been burned in Long Island Sound, and that only four of all those on board had been rescued. Dr. Follen was not among the saved. On the 13th of January, 1840, be- fore he had reached his forty-fourth year, this great soul which had done so much and in whose power it was to do so much more for humanity, was, through dreadful bodily torture, taken away.
Follen was not, apparently, a great preacher. His mind was of that German type which is slow, painstaking, insis- tent upon details, and profoundly metaphysical. His ear- lier discourses were too transcendental for the ordinary mind ; and, when he appreciated his mistake, he went, per- haps, too far in the opposite direction, dwelling exhaustively upon minor things. He is criticised, on the one hand, for being difficult to understand, and, on the other, of leading the mind too slowly from point to point of his argument. He labored, moreover, under the disadvantage of foreign birth, in that he was slow of speech and precise to a fault
56 CHARLES FOLLEN.
in his delivery. But these are petty matters. It was the man himself who conquered. It was his personality that brought every one connected with him so completely under his gentle sway. His face betrays the secret of his power, that face which Whittier describes :
" The calm brow through the parted hair, The gentle lips which knew no guile, Softening the blue eyes' thoughtful care With the bland beauty of their smile."
Humanly speaking, he was almost absolutely good. His nature was so thoroughly rounded that it seems contra- dictory ; one may speak of it as an antithesis. He was absolutely fearless, yet gentle as a little child ; stern and uncompromising toward the wrong, yet mild and forbear- ing as a saint. He was positive and unshakable in his be- liefs, yet courteous and tolerant to all ; exquisitely refined, almost womanish in his tastes, yet closely sympathetic with the beggared and outcast. He was extraordinarily do- mestic, so that his home life was idyllic, yet all mankind was his first and dearest charge. He was metaphysical, almost mystical, and nevertheless, in matters of daily life, of homely help and training, he was intensely practical. In short, he was the ideal man, combining moral, intellectual and physical attributes rarely found united in one person. If his short life was unsuccessful it was from no lack of the qualities which make for honest and enduring success. He failed, if one calls it failure, because he was ahead of his time, and because he would not bend principle to expedi- ency. He was cheerful and contented under adversity and misrepresentation, not because he was mean-spirited, but because his lofty nature could not lose its sunniness. He had a sort of serene and holy persistency that, he knew.
CHARLES POLLEN. 57
would conquer in the end ; he believed in the final triumph of right and he was content to wait. That he would have triumphed had he lived it is impossible to doubt.
What Lexington lost by his untimely death it is idle to speculate upon. How great a blow the anti-slavery cause received it is easier to see. The cause needed just such men as he, — cool, logical, careful of the prejudices of others but, none the less, fearless and burning with zeal. He was opposed, as Channing and many others were opposed, to Garrison's methods, and he would have sup- plied, perhaps, more than any one else could supply, the qualities of temper which were wanted to balance Garri- son's vehemence. He could not have failed to be a con- spicuous and commanding figure in the momentous years which followed his death. But, like Koerner, the poet whom in his youth he knew and loved, he died before his work could be accomplished. Follen's last writing was to translate, in East Lexington, a poem written by Koerner as he lay dying on the battlefield. It is singularly fitted to Dr. Follen himself, and with this beautiful thought we will leave him :
" This smarting wound, — these lips so pale and chill, — My heart, with faint and fainter beating, says, I stand upon the border of my days. Amen. My God, I own Thy holy will. The golden dreams that once my soul did fill, The songs of mirth become sepulchral lays. Faith ! Faith ! That truth which all my spirit sways, Yonder, as here, must live within me still ; And what I held as sacred here below, What I embraced with quick and youthful glow, Whether I called it liberty or love, A seraph bright I see it stand above ; And, as my senses slowly pass away, A breath transports me to the Realms of Day."
ORIGIN OF THE LEXINGTON AND WEST CAMBRIDGE BRANCH RAILROAD.
Read by George Y. Wellington, December, 13, 1898.
The early history of the Lexington and West Cambridge Railroad, before the organization under its charter, has been prepared from the original papers, in the possession of the late William Wilkins Warren, who took an active part in the proceedings of the citizens of West Cambridge [now Arlington]. To them belongs the credit of originating the measures which led to the realization of the enterprise.
The success of branch roads and their benefit to towns, instancing the Woburn Branch, caused the subject to be agitated among a few of the leading and influential citizens of West Cambridge, early in 1844. Especially from the fact that it required less than two miles of road to be built from a point on the Charlestown Branch Railroad in Cam- bridge, with terminus opposite the Hotel on Main Street, West Cambridge, without crossing it or creating any con- siderable amount of land damage. The stock would all readily be taken up in the town.
The first public meeting held was in response to a printed hand-bill signed " A Citizen," and dated September 16, 1844, of which the following is a copy : West Cambridge Branch Railroad. " The citizens of West Cambridge one and all are invited to meet at the Parish Hall in said town on Monday evening next, September 23, at 7 o'clock, to consider the expediency of adopting measures for a branch railroad either from the Fresh Pond or Fitchburg Railroads to the centre of the town. A general attendance
LEXINGTON BRANCH RAILROAD. 59
is expected, as it is deemed by many a subject of vast im- portance to the town."
Pursuant to this notice a large number attended the meeting, at which Col. Thomas Russell presided, and Wil- liam W. Warren was chosen secretary. The Hon. James Russell, Dr. Timothy Wellington, John Schouler and sev- eral others advocated the building of the road, to terminate near the Unitarian Meeting House, with a view ultimately to having it extended to the upper part of the town, from thence to Lexington. A resolution of its expediency was adopted, and a committee of seven was appointed to get information, examine the routes, and report at a future meeting. The secretary of this committee, Mr. Warren, by an attractively printed poster, called a meeting to hear the report and adopt measures necessary to the immediate construction of the road.
At the meeting October 14, 1844, Hon. James Russell, who was chosen chairman, read a full report of the committee, which reported two routes, one east of the Pond, and one crossing the island in Spy Pond, and recom- mending a survey and estimate of cost, also a committee to obtain subscriptions to defray the expenses. The report was accepted and Hon. James Russell, Dr. Timothy Wel- lington and John Schouler were chosen as a committee on survey and drawings of the road ; George C. Russell and Henry Whittemore, as a committee on estimates. The re- ports of these committees were made at a meeting held January 13, 1845.
The committee on survey had employed Messrs. Felton and Parker, engineers, to survey, make profiles, and give estimates, for which service seventy dollars were paid them . They had met and consulted with the president and direc- tors of the Charlestown and Fresh Pond Railroad, who took
60 LEXINGTON BRANCH RAILROAD.
the matter under favorable advisement, as to the proposed connection with their road, and were to have given their reply. The committee had long waited for a reply, when it was ascertained that some prominent citizens of Lexing- ton had urged the ofificers of the Charlestown Branch Railroad not to commit themselves to the citizens of West Cambridge, until it should be determined whether the citi- zens of Lexington should or should not petition the Legis- lature for a railroad, over the route surveyed, to West Cambridge, to extend to Lexington. Such a project had al- ready been determined upon, and under the circumstances, the committee asked to be discharged from the subject matter, which was done.
A petition for the West Cambridge Branch Railroad, signed by Timothy Wellington and others, and orders of notice, were passed by the Senate and the House, January i6, 1845. At a hearing on both petitions, one for the West Cambridge Branch Railroad, the other for the Lexington and West Cambridge Branch Railroad, in March, 1845, be- fore the committee of the Legislature, Hon. George Wash- ington Warren appeared for the Lexington petitioners and William Wilkins Warren for the West Cambridge peti- tioners. It was agreed by a compromise that the two en- terprises be merged in one, and an act of incorporation was prepared and presented this same month, which, in the House Document No. 48, was passed under the title of the Lexington and West Cambridge Branch Railroad Company.
Under this act the first meeting of the new corporation took place at Cutler's Tavern, in Lexington, April 14, 1845. Larkin Turner was chosen president, and William Wilkins Warren secretary of the meeting. The Act of Incorpora- tion was accepted, and a committee of nine gentlemen were chosen, consisting of Benjamin Muzzey and Samuel Chand-
LEXINGTON BRANCH RAILROAD. 6l
ler of Lexington, Timothy Wellington and John Schouler of West Cambridge, John Wesson and John W. Mulliken of Charlestown, Edmund Munroe and Otis Dana of Boston, and J. W. Simonds of Bedford, to cause subscription books to be opened May i, 1845, for subscriptions to capital stock not to exceed $200,000. The meeting then adjourned to meet April 21, 1845, in the Parish Hall, West Cambridge, to confer with the citizens of this town. This conference meeting was largely attended and indicated a mutual in- terest and good feeling on the part of both towns. Ben- jamin Muzzey, who presided, and William Wilkins Warren acting as secretary, stated that no business was contem- plated at this meeting, only an interchange of views de- sired. Estimates were discussed, and harmony prevailed in the discussion among the citizens of both towns, indi- cating a prompt action and successful commencement of the railroad which, by the Compromise Act, was to be finished and running from West Cambridge within one year from date of the Act, or its charter would be void. The adjournment of this meeting was the finality of the series preceding the organization of this railroad, under its charter. This full account of the origin of the Lexington and West Cambridge Railroad, has been taken from the orig- inal reports of William Wilkins Warren, who was secre- tary of the different meetings ; he preserved all of the orig- inal papers, and gave them, to be preserved at his death, to Mrs. Sophronia Russell; her son, Frank F. Russell, loaned them to me, and they will become the property of the Ar- lington Historical Society.
SOME MEMORIES OF THE LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
Read by Miss Mary E. Hudson, February 13, 1900.
The year 1900, on which we have just entered, marks off a quarter of a century since Lexington celebrated her great Centennial Day. To those not personally interested, the celebration, with its great successes and its many mistakes, is fast becoming an event of ancient history. Before the memory of that day quite vanishes in the mists of antiq- uity, it may not be time misspent to recall briefly a few incidents connected with its observance.
There were, as you know, no women on that Centennial Committee, but one greatly overworked sub-committee, the Committee on Invitations, so far honored with an asso- ciate membership the writer of this paper as to accept, with much avidity, such degree of clerical assistance as it was in her power to render. Thus it befell that one favored woman became involved in a maze of records and of corre- spondence, both personal and ofificial, from which extrica- tion was impossible till the eventful day was over ; and thus it is that, from a woman's pen, are given you these few rambling reminiscences — for they are nothing more — of Lexington's great Centennial.
Those ofificially authorized to do the work have given us in detail the story of the day. Out of the many memories of the busy weeks which preceded the 19th of April, 1875, 1 shall simply recall a few of the more prominent, as giving some poor idea of the work, worry and perplexity out of which the celebration was evolved.
\exington centennial. 63
Twenty-five years ago, the 19th of April had not become a public holiday. The happy day of the balloon man and the lunch wagon, the Moxie cart and the peanut stand, had not yet dawned upon our favored town. Lexington still celebrated, in her own quiet, delightful way, and with the assistance of her own personal friends, the events which had given her world-wide renown.
But the year 1875 brought the hundredth anniversary of her historic day and demanded a wider and more public recognition. A fruitless attempt was early made to arrange for a union of Lexington and Concord in a joint celebration which should be equally honorable to both. When this proved impossible, Lexington bent all her energies toward making her own observance of the day worthy of the great event to be commemorated. Out of the great committee appointed early in 1874, how many sub-divisions were made I dare not try to tell. Suffice it to say they represented every section of our town and included our most honored names in their list of members.
What problems confronted these unhappy men, what demands were made upon their time, their wisdom and their patience, only the survivors of that honorable body can now adequately understand.
It was near midwinter before matters seemed to assume any very definite shape, and I think the first really tangible achievement of the Committee was the securing of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company, as escort for the procession. That success meant much for Lexington. It meant that those mighty warriors, in all their martial splen- dor, with Brown's famous Brigade Band, should head our great procession. It also meant three hundred and fifty dinner tickets, an aggregate somewhat appalling to our thrifty dinner committee. Still Lexington's hospitality
64 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
knew no stint on that memorable day, and the Ancients were made welcome to the best our town could give. I need not recall the long and anxious consultations out of which grew our great centennial procession ; but one feature of that parade came very near the hearts of our people and deserves a passing mention. The Lexington Minute Men ! Who does not recall, with something of the old-time enthusiasm, that beautiful vision of buff and blue, so vividly suggesting what Washington's Continen- tals might have been had they not been ragged and rusty and foot-sore .-* The career of our Minute Men was brilliant but too brief. As quickly as they rose, so speedily they disappeared. Sometimes, in these later days, when some festal anniversary makes such a costume appropriate, there still flashes before our admiring eyes, on the person of some youthful patriot, the old familiar uniform, inherited from the Centennial Day ; but the Lexington Minute Men of 1875 are gone from our sight to return no more. In Cary Library is still preserved the handsome silk flag pre- sented to the Minute Men by the descendants of Ensign Robert Munroe.
The busy winter slowly wore away, and, when April came, definite arrangements for orator, guests, transporta- tion, dinner, procession and a score of other matters were well under way. Lexington was awakening to a realization of the undertaking in which she was engaged, and an air of mild interest and expectation became apparent among even our soberest citizens.
In this connection it is fitting and pleasant to recall the invaluable services of one member of the Committee, the late Rev. Edward G. Porter, whose busy life-work has so recently and so suddenly ended, but whose name will long be associated with so much that is best and highest in our
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 65
town. With characteristic zeal and energy he worked for the Centennial, and to his wide experience, his cultured taste and his unflagging industry were due many of the most attractive and finished details of our anniversary exercises. It was his request that brought, from South Carolina, the graceful palmetto tree, to stand upon our platform, beside the Massachusetts pine ; and to him, I think, was due the happy suggestion of the planting of the Centennial Elm by the hands of our honored Chief Magis- trate. Mr. Porter early undertook a collection of old-time relics for exhibition on Centennial Day, and the success he met must have far outrun his most sanguine expectations. The name of those relics was legion. Their variety was endless. The untiring enthusiasm with which their collec- tor sought, far and near, for souvenirs of the olden time warmed many a heart and opened for him many a stranger's door. Willing hands brushed the cobwebs from old, forgotten relics of bygone days, old chests gave up their long-neglected stores and long-closed attic doors swung open at his approach. Such antiquarian treasures as he gathered, for that occasion, old Lexington never saw before and may never behold again.
I pleasantly recall the eager step with which, coming straight from his own church door on that last busy Sunday noon, he walked in on the chairman of the Committee of One Hundred, and, proudly laying down a shapeless paper parcel, triumphantly exclaimed : " I've got Sam Adams' baptismal blanket ! " Few knew whence all these historic treasures came. What was their after fate still fewer could definitely tell. Tags broke away from the articles they marked, and were scattered, in dire confusion, when the Centennial Day was over. Hurried hands replaced them without much regard for historic accuracy, and Sur-
66 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
geon Fiske's snow-shoes, marked " Spectacles of Col. William Munroe," may be cited as one among the many grotesque blunders of that hurried rearrangement. But, out of all this chaos, order came at last. Many articles were at once reclaimed by their careful owners, but some souvenirs of the greatest historic interest were generously donated to the town and became the nucleus of the valu- able collection now found in Gary Library and in the cases of the Historical Society. Perhaps the most interesting of all these historic treasures were the beautiful Pitcairn pis- tols. They were carried by Major Pitcairn, on the march to Lexington and one of them was discharged, on Lexing- ton Common, when he gave his famous order to fire. Later in the day, when his riderless horse galloped into the rebel lines, the pistols were still in the holsters and fell into American hands. Coming, later, into the pos- session of General Israel Putnam, he carried them through the Revolution, and left them as a precious legacy, to his descendants. They were exhibited in Lexington by the childless widow of the last owner, John P. Putnam of Cambridge, N. Y., and were immediately reclaimed when the day was over, but not until they had attracted the attention of General Belknap, then Secretary of War, who at once opened negotiations for their purchase for the Museum of the War Department at Washington. But the story of our Centennial had fired the patriotic heart of the venerable lady, who promptly rejected the Secretary's offer and donated the pistols to Lexington, proudly declaring, in a private communication to a mem- ber of the Committee that there were some things which money could not buy. In early autumn the pistols came back to Lexington, and are preserved in Cary Library. The caring for the great company expected on the
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 67
19th, the planning of the great pavilion and dinner tent, were problems sorely taxing the committees having these matters in charge ; but when did Lexington ever fail in hospitality? Surely not in 1875, when she raised, on the Common, a beautiful pavilion capable of accommodating seven thousand people, and a dinner tent with places for thirty-seven hundred guests. Perhaps few of our people realize that this dinner tent ran the entire length of the Elm Avenue front of the Common, crossed Bedford Street and occupied a portion of the triangular green in front of what is now Historic Hall. Some of us bewailed the necessity of cutting down a vigorous young tree, to make room for this monster tent, but, after the lapse of twenty- five years, few miss it or could recall the spot whereon it stood. These tents were works of art, in their way, very elaborately decorated with flags, streamers and flowers, but truth compels me to own they were cold and uncom- fortable places. We had all heard the old story of the waving grass and blossoming peach trees which had greeted the English invaders, a hundred years before, and the warm, sunny days of early April had encouraged us to hope for similar verdure on the great anniversary day. This hope was soon and ruthlessly dispelled. At noon of Tuesday, April 13, just as the frame work of the dinner tent was being raised and the floor being laid in the pavil- ion, there burst upon us one of the most furious snow storms of the year. The wind rose almost to a gale. The drifting snow accumulated with incredible rapidity, and tent and pavilion were hastily abandoned by the fleeing workmen At midnight the storm was over, but our Com- mon was a disheartening spectacle on Wednesday morning, as gangs of shovelers cleared away the drifts. While the blizzard was at its height, the driving snow had become
68 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
solidly packed under the half laid floors. To remove it was impossible and the workmen's only course was to leave it there, boxed in by boards and timbers, to give an added frigidity to the wintry temperature of the tents and to freeze the feet of the thousands who trod those floors on Centennial Day. The eccentricities of the elements for the days following this blizzard might well have astonished even the hardened veterans of the weather bureau. Clouds and sunshine, mud and ice, balmy May and howling No- vember came, one after another, in quick succession, wind- ing up with a sharp thunder storm on the evening of the 1 6th, following which came the biting temperature and bitter north east wind which abated not its fury till the Centennial was over. Small wonder that the doctors reaped a golden aftermath !
One by one the arrangements for the great day were nearing completion, but, in the minds of the Committee, a misgiving at first only half acknowledged was fast growing into a definite anxiety which would not down, however much they might strive to ignore or forget it. When two historic towns were celebrating the same series of events on the same anniversary day, there needs must be some similarity in their order of procedure. Each had its orator, its procession and its dinner, with its long list of after din- ner speakers. Each claimed the President of the United States and his Cabinet as special guests of honor. To obviate this trouble in some degree, the Lexington Com- mittee had given a special prominence, on its programme, to the unveiling of the statues of Samuel Adams and John Hancock, as being a feature distinctly our own, to which our sister town could lay no claim. For four years we had worked and waited for these statues, to fill the vacant niches in Memorial Hall. Subscriptions, lecture courses
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 69
and contributions of generous friends had all helped to swell the fund, and at last the requisite amount was raised and the statues were contracted for and were to be first exhibited to the public on the 19th of April.
The work, respectively, of Martin Milmore and Thomas R. Gould, they were executed, the one in Florence and the other in Rome, and, by the terms of the contracts, were each to have been delivered to the committee in Lexington on the 1st of January, 1875. Unforeseen delays had pre- vented the fulfillment of this agreement in either case. It was not until a week after the first of January that the Hancock statue was shipped by sailing vessel to Boston, and it was some weeks later still, when the figure of Sam- uel Adams was forwarded from Rome to Liverpool, whence the Cunard Company was to bring it to our shores. News- paper items had given the statues frequent mention and their proposed unveiling had been announced on our notes of invitation. Small wonder, then, that, as the weeks passed and no statues arrived, there were anxious looks and some ominous shakes of the head among the members of the committee ! The steamer leaving Liverpool on the first of April had not brought the Adams, as was positively promised. Inquiries cabled to Liverpool revealed the fact that, the ship being heavily laden, the statue had been left on the Liverpool wharf to await the sailing of the Par- thia on the following week.
The disappointment of the committee was very great, and was fully shared by all our citizens. Boston had no ocean greyhound in those days. By the quickest possible run the Parthia might reach Boston on Saturday, the 17th, but incoming steamers were making long passages and reporting head winds and heavy seas, and the chances were strongly against the ship's arriving on time. The vision of
70 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
the long planned Centennial with its distinctive features missing, was looming up with unpleasant vividness before the eyes of one and all.
But the fates were kinder than we knew. The good ship Parthia was staunch and strong. Buffeted by wind and wave, with great seas washing her slippery decks and a floating iceberg making a serious break in one of her water- tight compartments, she still held steadily on her way, and, at two o'clock on the afternoon of Saturday, April 17th, she safely reached her dock in East Boston. It had been an anxious day in Lexington, each passing hour seemingly lessening the chances in our favor, when, shortly before three o'clock, our indefatigable fellow - townsman, Mr. George O. Davis, sent to the chairman of the Committee the following dispatch : " Steamer Parthia, with statue of Samuel Adams, just arrived. Send team to wharf immedi- ately." That message sent eager feet flying in all direc- tions. A special messenger, bearing an official order on the Cunard Company, caught the Boston train just as it was pulling out of the station. The express superintendent, in Boston, in his eagerness to do his whole duty, chartered a six-horse dray — when tivo horses would have served equally well — and made all speed with his imposing equi- page to the Cunard wharf. By special order of the col- lector of the port the cargo was immediately broken open and the statue landed with all possible dispatch ; and, shortly before the village clock sounded the hour of midnight, the marble presentment of our honored patriot rode majesti- cally into Lexington, and found a resting-place on Lexing- ton Common.
But where, meanwhile, was the companion statue } The fears of the anxious Committee were only half allayed while the figure of John Hancock was still missing.
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 7 1
Early in January the brig John L. Bowen, with the statue on board, had sailed from Leghorn direct for Boston. On the 28th of March she had been spoken off Bermuda, and then she disappeared from mortal ken as completely as though the seas had swallowed her. By the most hberal calculation she should have reached her port by the gth of April, and might easily have arrived at an earlier date ; but, as day after day passed and failed to bring the missing ship, all hearts grew heavy with suspense and apprehension. At last, on the morning of the 15th, a report reached us that, under stress of weather and in a somewhat disabled condi- tion, the Bowen had sought shelter in the harbor of Vine- yard Haven. In this emergency again we found a friend and active helper in the collector of the port, who immedi- ately dispatched to Vineyard Haven the revenue cutter Gallatin, with orders to find the Bowen and tow her to Boston with all possible speed. On the morning of Friday, the 1 6th, the Gallatin returned, her captain reporting in person to the collector that he had been to Vineyard Haven and the Bowen was not there. " Go back and find her," was the collector's quick and decisive reply, and back the little cutter went on her blind and seemingly hopeless search. So much we knew, but, as no farther news had come to the Committee, the last gleam of hope had well- nigh faded when, late on Saturday evening, while all eyes were eagerly watching for the coming of the Adams, the following dispatch from a custom-house official told an un- expected and welcome story : " Cutter Gallatin, with brig Bowen in tow, just passing Cape Cod. Will be up at mid- night. My congratulations to Committee."
I know not by what magic that brig was unloaded and the statue disembarked. I only know that, early on Sun- day afternoon, just as the figure of Adams was being
^2 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
hoisted into its place on the platform of the pavilion, a second dray, drawn by two stalwart horses, came toiling up our village street, and a second big box was unloaded on our Common. Eager hands made quick work. The great box was hastily opened, the flannel-swathed figure was released from its wrappings, and, before we had fairly comprehended our extraordinary good fortune, our long sus- pense was ended, and John Hancock and Samuel Adams, in enduring marble, stood together on Lexington Green.
There was varied work done on that busy April Sunday, a day hardly less memorable, in its way, than the anniver- sary day which followed it. The morning had dawned on a strange and unwonted spectacle. The mammoth tents, to which the busy workmen were putting the last finishing touches, the mounds of debris which the laborers were carting away, the big baggage wagons, from which the caterer's assistants were unloading their endless supplies, and the crowds of curious lookers-on, transformed our quiet Common into a scene not easily described nor readily for- gotten. There were special services in all the churches that morning, with a large and enthusiastic attendance ; but the ring of axe and hammer mingled with the sound of the church-going bell, and the babel of many voices outside the church well-nigh drowned the strains of "America" from the choir within.
Everywhere the busy decorators were at work. Perhaps it were more truthful to say they were everywhere except where they should have been ; but our judgment of those unhappy men may well be tempered with mercy. For two days they had worked untiringly, and Sunday morning still found their work sadly in arrears. With a hundred impa- tient people all clamoring at once, each one pressing his own individual claim to immediate attention, what wonder
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 73
Colonel Beals' assistants became confused and did some queer and startling things ! When the decorations were confined to flags and bunting, and were arranged under the supervision of the Decoration Committee, they were always pleasing and often very beautiful. The uncurbed fancy of the professional decorator did not always produce the same satisfactory results. I recall one modest dwell- ing, then only twenty-five years old, which the workmen had conspicuously labeled " Birthplace of American Lib- erty," and surmounted this remarkable legend with a hfe- sized, full-length portrait of George Washington ! " Only that and nothing more." When the aggrieved owner ven- tured a meek remonstrance against such a very unsuitable design, the astonished decorator, with an impressive stare, replied : " I tJwiigJit I was making this house A /."
But the busiest day must end at last, and, while still the workman sawed and hammered, while the anxious C(mimit- tee still hurried to and fro, while the long procession of car- riages and foot passengers still moved slowly up and down our streets, night came, dreary, cold and overcast, with a howling northeast wind and a threatening outlook for the morrow. The evening religious service, in the town hall, with its distinguished speakers and its elaborate musical programme, could but partially offset the extremely unsab- bath-like character of that memorable Sunday.
It is not my purpose to attempt any history of the Cen- tennial Day itself. We all remember it, and the personal experiences of the participants have been many times re- counted, and have lost nothing in the repetition In its important features the day was a complete and memorable success. To us who remember the details, and know how the elements and the unprecedented crowds combined to overturn all the calculations of our careful Committee, the
74 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
grotesque incidents which marked the Centennial must ever be a source of mingled amusement and regret. No mouse ever saw his well-laid plans going more hopelessly agley ! The crowded trains that wouldn't move, the impatient guests who couldn't arrive, the officials who clung desper- ately to the lowest steps of overfilled omnibuses instead of reclining in luxurious carriages prepared for their occupancy, the great procession which " dragged its slow length along" through the surging crowds which blocked every foot of its way, the hungry mobs that raided private larders and in- vaded the most sacred precincts of our homes, and the bleak, cold wind which howled round great and small alike, — these are some of the memories of that long-planned, long- talked-of Centennial Day.
I will not weary you with the particulars, but I cannot for- bear a passing mention of those who were our guests that day. Of the many committees which had toiled through that long winter of preparation, perhaps the Invitation Com- mittee had been deepest in work and worry, for on those three individuals fell the duty of gathering, from far and near, the distinguished men who should do honor to the day. How thorough was their work and how widely those notes of invitation flew over the length and breadth of the land, the great array of guests who thronged our pavilion bore ample testimony. I think our citizens have never fully realized the distinguished company which gathered here that day. We all remember the invading host which, ?/«- invited, took possession of our town ; but to the real guests of honor some of us have given little thought. Governors, congressmen, judges and professional men were "thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa ; " but there were other guests that day whose noble words and golden deeds will live when official rank is long forgot-
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 75
ten. On that flag-draped platform were men eminent in science, in letters and in philanthropy. There were men whose halting step or empty sleeve told of patriotic blood freely shed in their country's cause ; and not unmeet it seemed that with the war-worn soldier there should come the venerable author of "America" and the noble woman to whose inspired pen we owe " The Battle Hymn of the Republic." President Grant and his Cabinet came late. How that distinguished soldier effected his retreat from Concord that day, by what military manoeuvre he made his forced march on Lexington, has never, I think, been satis- factorily explained. Some said he came in an omnibus. There were rumors of other vehicles, more or less stately in character, which were successively pressed into his ser- vice. He certainly was not in the railway train which stood stalled for hours on the wind-swept meadows near North Lexington, and in which certain members of the Reception Committee spent a good portion of their day. In some way unknown to history, by back roads or cross roads, avoiding the surging crowds which blocked the historic highway between Lexington and Concord, late but un- daunted, the President and his Cabinet appeared at last, and occupied an honored place in our procession, our din- ner tent and at our evening reception. Secretary Robeson was, unfortunately, lost in transit and, reaching Lex- ington somewhat later than his chief, experienced some difficulty in proving his identity to the suspicious policemen on duty at the tents. In vain he assured them that the head of the Navy Department stood before them. A blue- coated guardian of the peace sniffed contemptuously as he made reply : " That won't do ! We have had too many secretaries round here to-day already." Very pleasant to the eye of the perturbed Cabinet minister was the passing
76 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
member of the Reception Committee who rescued him from his undignified dilemma.
It was too cold and inclement a day for the social ameni- ties to be very rigorously observed, either by policemen or by guests, and some amusing breaches of decorum were the direct result. There remains photographed on my memory the picture of a white-haired doctor of divinity surrepti- tiously and unlawfully holding up the flap of the dinner tent while a grave and dignified professor of the Harvard Law School did gracefully crawl under.
But, with the many distinguished men whom we gladly welcomed to our midst that day, there came one little woman from New Jersey, whose antecedents gave her a claim upon our hospitality, and whose personal character- istics seem worthy of remembrance. Few of our people even heard her name. Still fewer met her face to face. It was my privilege, through letters and through repeated in- terviews, to know her, for a short period, somewhat famil- iarly, and perhaps I cannot better close these rambling memories than by briefly sketching the quaint little body who was for four days our guest.
Early in the year a citizen of a neighboring town had called the attention of the Committee to Miss Sarah Smith Stafford of Trenton, New Jersey, who, as a descendant of famous Revolutionary ancestors and as possessor of numer- ous Revolutionary relics, seemed entitled to recognition from Lexington. A somewhat voluminous correspondence with Miss Stafford brought out some interesting facts regarding herself, her ancestors and her possessions, — facts which I briefly give as nearly as possible in the order in which she gave them to me.
Fully to understand Miss Stafford's antecedents, it is necessary to go back to the first days of September, 1779,
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 77
when the American armed ship Kitty, commanded by Capt. Philip Stafford, was seized by a British Man-of-War and all on board were put in irons. On the 13th of September Commodore Paul Jones, commanding the American ship Bon Homme Richard, captured the Man-of-War and her prize, liberated the prisoners and ironed their EngHsh captors. Serving on the Kitty was Captain Stafford's young nephew, James Bayard Stafford, a young man who by education and training was somewhat superior to his brother sailors ; and when the entire crew volunteered to serve on the ship which had rescued them, young Stafford was given a lieutenant's command. Thus it came to pass that he served as a volunteer officer under Paul Jones in the engagement between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis, on the 23d of September, 1779. When the Richard went into action there floated from her masthead a little flag, less than four yards in length, for which was claimed the proud distinction of being the first flag bearing the stars and stripes ever carried by an American warship and the first ever saluted by a foreign naval power.
When the battle was at its height this flag was shot away and must have been lost past recovery but for the prompt action of the young volunteer. Lieutenant Stafford, who at the risk of his life sprang over the ship's side, res- cued the flag and brought it safely back on board. While replacing it at the masthead he received a severe and pain- ful wound from which he never ceased to suffer. When the ship went down, almost in the hour of victory, Paul Jones transferred the precious flag to the American ship Alliance, where it remained till the close of the Revolution, when it came into the possession of the Marine Committee. Rallying from his serious wounds. Lieutenant Stafford served through the war, doing valiant service wherever
78 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
duty called him, and after the return of peace the Marine Committee, which was, I suppose, the modest forerunner of our Navy Department, presented to the brave officer the flag he had rescued, then and now known as the flag of Paul Jones. After the close of the war, Lieutenant Stafford married a brave Massachusetts woman, two of whose rela- tives had fallen on the 19th of April, at Menotomy, and her father later at White Plains. Of the little family reared in their New Jersey home, Sarah Smith Stafford was the only daughter and, perhaps, the youngest child. With this double inheritance of Revolutionary blood and reared in an atmosphere of Revolutionary tradition, patriotism became a religion in the mind of the little girl. Idolizing her in- valid father, she loved with almost equal devotion the country for which his blood was shed, and the " flag of Paul Jones," the visible emblem of that country's glory and that father's valor, became a sacred possession in her childish eyes. When, at last, the father and mother van- ished from the little home, perhaps it is not strange that the lonely daughter grew into a woman of one idea, develop- ing some attendant eccentricities. Her home, for many years, was on the battlefield of Trenton. One who visited her there says it was a museum of Revolutionary relics. The outbreak of our Civil War found Miss Stafford one of the most zealous workers in the Union cause. Her little fortune of ^12,000 she immediately loaned without security to the State of New Jersey, to aid in equipping the first New Jersey Volunteers, simply replying to the remon- strances of cautious friends, " What is money, if you have no country.? "
In 1849 her widowed mother had made application to Congress for renumeration for her husband's services on the Bon Homme Richard, but there were legal technicalities
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 79
in the way, and for many years the matter was allowed to drop. In 1872 the daughter renewed the application. Be- fore it had been acted upon by Congress, the news reached Washington one morning of the robbing of the Trenton Bank and the total loss of all Miss Stafford's property de- posited therein. The New Jersey senators lost no time in bringing the matter forward. In the Congressional Record of that year I find a full report of the glowing tributes to the services of Lieutenant Stafford, and of the promptness with which, then and there, ninety-three years after those services were rendered. Congress, without a dissenting voice, voted $8,000 back pay to the brave Lieutenant's daughter.
And this was the little woman who was Lexington's guest on Centennial Day, and the flag she brought, the flag of Paul Jones, was the historic piece of bunting which held the place of honor among our platform decorations, between the palmetto and the pine, and which has been recently presented to President McKinley for deposit in tho National Museum. In consideration of her age and presumable infirmities, the invitation extended to Miss Stafford had been a very generous one, and she came to us on Friday, April 16, and left on the afternoon of Tuesday, the 20th.
Perhaps the prospect of a four days' visit with a voluble old lady seemed a little overwhelming to the gentlemen of the Invitation Committee. Certain it is that the services of the Committee's feminine attache were again put in requi- sition, and to her watchful care the visitor was committed. We looked for a fragile, delicate, infirm old lady, but there came to us a rotund, erect little body, with white hair and wrinkled visage, it is true, but with an unconquerable sprightliness of manner and a step as springing as a girl's.
80 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL.
Entire indifference to fashion's mandate was written on every detail of her quaint costume. She was laboriously handling a monstrous bag of divers hues when I met her at the station. Its proportions and its weight were almost too much for her slender strength, but the flag, the precious flag, was hidden within its vast recesses and no persuasions could induce her to trust it to my care. The other relics she was to exhibit here had come to us by express, but to no vandal hand would she intrust the most treasured pos- session of them all, and she climbed into the waiting carriage still clutching with unyielding grip the receptacle which contained her priceless flag.
During the days which followed, our interviews were many and sometimes extended, and I am not sure the Com- mittee were not wise in entertaining her by proxy. Her interest in the approaching celebration never flagged, but the courage with which she faced the discomforts of that trying day was something we were quite unable to foresee. Remembering that Centennial morning, with its wintry temperature and its biting wind, our surprise may be im- agined when Miss Stafford presented herself, waiting to be escorted to her place in the pavilion. She wore a black silk gown of good material but ancient cut, a white shawl of medium weight, and on her silver locks there rested simply a white muslin cap with flying streamers. Her wrinkled face was blue with cold, which all the fires of patriotism could not wholly overcome, but her eye was as bright and her manner as vivacious as ever. In vain we protested against such an unsuitable attire on such a freez- ing day. 'Twas throwing words away. She assured us that the shawl was the proper thing to wear and the cap was her Centennial Cap, and wear them she would in spite of wind and weather ; and wear them she did through all that bitter day.
LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL. 8l
The crowds were already upon our streets, but through the mass of patriotic humanity this resolute little body, with flying cap strings and fluttering shawl, was escorted to her assigned place in the pavilion. Late in the afternoon, when cold and fatigue had driven the guests by hundreds from the dinner tent, and when the brave men who remained were turning their ulster collars up around their ears, I saw the plucky woman with her white shawl drawn up over her head and pinned securely under her quivering chin, thus adding very materially to the general picturesqueness of her appearance, but very little, I fear, to her bodily comfort. So much, and no more, this valiant Daughter of the Revo- lution yielded to the weather !
Late in the afternoon of Tuesday, April 20, we saw Miss Stafford off on her homeward way, and after that we saw her face no more. One or two enthusiastic letters came back to us from her New Jersey home. Occasionally the newspapers recorded her presence at some patriotic gathering. She took her beloved flag to the opening of the Philadelphia Centennial, and was an honored guest during her stay. But the infirmities of age were coming fast, how- ever resolutely she might resist their approach. It was not long before we read, one morning, that the end had come. Worn out at last, the tired body was laid to rest beside its kindred dust, and at her own request she was carried to her grave with the flag of Paul Jones draped upon her casket.
May we all be as loyal as she to the country that flag represents !
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE THIRD MEETING- HOUSE IN LEXINGTON, ERECTED 1794. By Francis Brown. Read October 8, 1901.
In these recollections of the Lexington Meeting-house, I shall omit the oldest structures and confine myself to the one erected in 1794, which was my only place of public wor- ship in the town.
It was a large two-story wooden building, located a few feet north of the historical-memorial block or pulpit recently stationed on the southerly angle of the Common. It was a building of very modest style and form, and its dimensions were, I think, about eighty by fifty feet. It had a porch at the front about twenty-five by twenty feet, opening to the main building, with a facade over the door, on which was painted in black figures " 1794."
Although not standing on any marked elevation, the house was found, by an engineer, to occupy a level ninety feet above the foundation of the church at Concord. In- credible as this may appear, it is doubtless true, as not less than five streams originating in Lexington are found running out of the town in different directions, — into the Concord, Mystic and Merrimac rivers, — showing plainly, by its eleva- tion, affecting air and drainage, why Lexington is remark- ably healthful and pleasant.
Let us now look at the interior of the Meeting-House. The lower floor was nearly covered with square pews, one range extending by the windows entirely round from one side of the pulpit to the other, and called the wall-pews, with an aisle just within the circuit. One third of the
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 83
central area was used for slips for the aged, partially deaf, etc., the different sexes occupying separately the right and left side, and the other two-thirds of the center were occu- pied for pews.
A range of gallery extended along the front as well as both the ends, with a line of square pews by the windows. The front portion of the front gallery was occupied by the singers, while the end galleries were set apart for the second grade of adults of both sexes, a few disorderly boys with a tything-man or two to preserve order, and in one corner a few relics of law-regulated slavery, under the names of Caesar Mason, Betsy Tulip, Charity Bridge and Dinah Lawrence.
And here a few words respecting the pulpit, which was in those days considered a place of so much sacredness that few save the authorized ones had courage to enter it. It was made of pine and painted white, with access given to it by a flight of six or seven steps on each side, a large win- dow in its rear, a red or maroon colored Bible cushion, a black Bible and a black hymn book of the Tate and Brady collection I think.
Overhead hung, suspended by an iron rod, a "sounding- board," circular in form, coming down to within twelve or eighteen inches of the minister's head ; and this, I well re- member, frequently disturbed my juvenile apprehension, lest it might fall upon and crush the poor preacher below. Here let me note that I once saw a dove come in at an open window and light upon the sounding-board and there sit for a while, bobbing his head and peeping over the edge of the board on the heads of his fellow-worshipers below, very much amusing the juveniles and puzzling the pastor to know what the matter could be.
In this connection let us say a word about the preaching.
84 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE,
As there was but one church in the town, we had but one prcvaiHng sentiment to cherish, one ckister of dogmas to examine and one conclusion, set forth, to arrive at ; so we had little to excite discussion, and we patiently took what was given us and waited, wished and wondered, according to our peculiar circumstances. One thing I ought to acknow- ledge, however ; we had very long discourses, often requir- ing a full hour in their delivery, and sometimes an hour and a half ; two of them surely on each Sunday, so that if any fell short in quality it was made up and presented in quan- tity.
In connection with this, let us call up the subject of music. As often as once in two or three years the town would vote a sum of money sufficient to secure a teacher of singing, and although the cost was incurred for the benefit of the parish, it was by law made a town charge. Seasonable notice would be given of the opening of the school and all were invited to attend. Fifty, or perhaps one hundred, would appear, candle in hand, as required. Sound- ing of individual voices and trials to discover individual taste and talent, by the teacher, would occupy two or three of the earliest sessions of the school, and the result of the inquiries would generally be that about half the number of attendants would be kindly advised not to incur the ex- pense of a tune-book. The balance, however, was always found sufficient to fill the singers' seats in the church and with instrumental aid such as was afforded by the bass-viol, French horn, bassoon, violin, clarinet and flute, with the help of a tuning-fork, after about six or eight weeks of training, the choir was qualified and willing to meet the public expectations.
As regards the heating of the premises, there was no furnace, stove, steam or anything else to soften the arctic
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 85
temperature of the house during the wintry season except- ing a few foot-stoves brought by ladies who came in their sleighs from distant homes. To all other persons the state of the atmosphere was anything but agreeable or tolerable during a two-hours' sitting. But time works wonders, it is truly said, and finally one appeared here in the form of a large wood-stove, placed near the head of the broad aisle, directly in front of the pulpit, the smoke-pipe rising ten or twelve feet and branching off to each end of the building, out underneath the galleries. This inaugurated the warm- ing process for church comfort. May science and art con- tinue to invent and improve plans for securing its more perfect accomplishment !
The old church had three outside entrances. That one looking down the main street led through the porch di- rectly into the church and by a side stairway to the gallery. The west end also opened a way into the church below and through a double stairway into the gallery. The east end had a projection, including a belfry, sixty or seventy feet high, which sustained a steeple of about as much added height. On the steeple's pinnacle, a weather-vane, of the semblance of a rooster, swung for many years, doing its duty faithfully, until, on an exceedingly cold, dark and tem- pestuous evening, a flock of wild geese, almost exhausted, on their way homeward, making a great noise, settled down too low for safety, till one of their number came in contact with the rooster's tail and bent it around to a right angle ; but the contact proved fatal to the goose, it being found dead in the morning at the base of the belfry. A way was opened through this porch into the church, again by a double staircase to the gallery, and thence by a single flight of steps to the belfry or bell-deck, where the thoughtless boy would sometimes stray on a " Sunday noon," and, ig-
86 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE.
norant or forgetful of the "first afternoon ringing," would find himself surprised and astounded with the noise when too late to retreat.
I remember being told by my father, who was generally correct on such matters, that, when the four corner-posts of this belfry were raised, the machinery was so arranged that to each separate post, at the end which went upper- most, a man with a strip of board, a hammer and some nails was lashed, and when the posts were raised to a per- pendicular position each man cooperated with his neighbor on his right and left hand, by nailing together the ends of the several posts, thus completing the object of their daring exploit. Three of these men, by the means prepared for their descent, were lowered down, when the fourth one, a sailor, still aloft, rose and walked around from post to post, on the edge of the strips of board, and then descended, applauded by many for his success and denounced for his foolhardiness by the wiser ones standing awe-struck below. The bell of the church was very high-keyed and its tone was easily distinguished from the neighboring town bells when rung for fires. It had, however, one substantial quality. When the next bell was contracted for, the founder preferred, rather than to lower the old bell by der- rick, to plunge it from the bell-deck and take his chances of breaking it. It fell and struck the hard road without a crack or scar.
Our old church had neither blinds, shades, shutters nor curtains, no carpets, seat-cushions, organ or library, no chapel, Sunday-school room or horse-shed, no pictures or sacred relics save the old red morocco-covered Bible in the pulpit, bearing upon its fly-leaf the gift-token to the parish in the familiar handwriting of Governor John Hancock.
Thus, without ornament, convenience or comfort, we loved
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 87
and honored the old meeting-house and approached it nearly every Sabbath day, riding and even walking one, two or three miles to do it and we left it feeling that it was good for us that we had met the demand and that we had gained something to aid us in the formation of religious character.
We had no special religious instruction suited to the growth or culture of the young mind, excepting, if it could be so considered, when the minister came into the secular schoolroom, two or three times during the school season, on a Saturday afternonoon and "catechised" us from the famous New England Primer. The only thing pleasant or profitable to me in this connection, which I now remember, is the fact that Mr. Williams, on one of his visits, gave me a " fourpence halfpenny piece " for proficiency in the cate- chism exercise when a pupil of four or five years.
There is another subject, in this connection, which must not be passed without due notice. I refer to the clergymen who filled our pulpit and honored their profession at the time we are considering, viz., Mr. Clarke, Mr. Williams and Mr. Briggs. Although I do not press the claim of friendly relationship to the first named, yet, as he was the only re- ligious guide and teacher of the town, and as my birthday occurred about three years before his decease, I conclude that he made many calls at the home of my parents, and that I was as often awed into silence by the wonderful presence ; and I can now almost feel his gentle hand patting my head and hear his kind word, full of religious instruction on filial, fraternal and religious duties. So I can claim him, as he was, as my first pastor ; and, since he was both im- mediately before and after his death so much a theme of conversation with my parents and their neighbors, it is no wonder that his impress of character was deeply fixed in my memory.
88 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE.
He was a good pastor and he was a statesman worthy of all praise, honor and imitation. In our terrible Revolu- tionary struggle he was among the earliest, purest and most fearless advocates of freedom. In thought, word and deed he "nobly dared to be free." Has his memory been justly appreciated and honored, and has his name filled the place deserved by it on the roll of fame } Many times I have thought it was not so. Historians should look to this.
He was a good citizen, leader, counselor and friend. Whenever his influence prevailed, there was no need of police court or police officers. If Smith and Jones came to any war of words more or less angry, upon agreement to refer the matter to Parson Clarke the scene at once bright- ened and the storm-cloud was sure to be dispelled. The contestants came and related and argued, and the decision was quick and final. "Jones, your bull is a burly and dan- gerous animal and should be shut up in barn or barnyard ; and, Smith, if your fences had been kept in better order, your ox would not have been gored. Go, both of you, and do your duty, and shake hands as friends," and this was sure to be done.
In his domestic relations he was exemplary ; a little stern, perhaps some would say, but a tree should be judged by its fruits, and as he sent out into the world's active and worthy service six sons and six daughters, no one would fail to acknowledge the genuineness of his family government in securing filial love and obedience. I recollect hearing the following specimen of his training.
Young folks of that day, as now, were apt to be sleepy in the morning, and prone to ignore the early call to arise. This could not be allowed by the parson, and he would, as he had occasion, go to the foot of the stairway and, aloud, give the peculiar word of command, viz. : —
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 89
" Polly, Betsey, Lydia, Lucy, Patty, Sally, Thomas, Jonas, William, Peter, Bowen, Harry, GET UP!"
and it was added that, before the roll-call was concluded, every foot had reached the floor, and every ear was saluted with the military words, " Right ! Dress ! "
There stands out, on my memorial tablet, Avery Williams, a man of less than middle age, slender of figure and of rather gloomy aspect, seemingly full of thought, — uncon- genial thought, — and, withal, reluctant to entertain cheer- fulness or smiles in his musings or conversation. He was not of the practical turn of his predecessor, either in mind or manner, and was very unlike him. A scholar, perhaps, but not well acquainted with human nature, and not fitted to fill the vacancy that had existed in the parish. He was blind to the needs of his people, and then unyielding to the circumstances by which he was attended. He was a decided follower of John Calvin, and allowed no other doctrines than those he entertained to be true. He was also, in politics, a strong and ardent Federalist, and as the War of 1812 was taking form and direction, and as opinions were ripening into the most violent manifestations at this time, the town being decidedly Republican in politics, and, withal, liberal in its religious tone and character, conversation scon re- sulted in struggle, and unwise words uttered in the pulpit, and misunderstood and misjudged in the pews, brought about a condition of things tending to create bad feeling between pastor and people. An instance of outbreak may be cited as in point.
It was customary on Thanksgiving Day to have some
90 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE.
special piece of music sung by the choir at the close of divine service. On this special occasion the singers had made choice of the " Ode on Science," which contains some sentences decidedly offensive to the Federal or Brit- ish politician. The clouds of strife were at once seen ris- ing and threatening a storm. The hint was immediately afloat that the minister would neither read the ode nor give opportunity for its use. The chorister had seasonable notice of what would probably occur, and marshalled his forces to meet the worst. So, after the short prayer, at once an attempt was made to pronounce the benediction, but in an instant the gallery was alive with tumultuous song. Every voice and every instrument was urged to give its variety and tone to the combination, and it seemed as if the roof would be raised by the effort. I heard the leader declare, aloud, as soon as he came outside the church door, that " if the minister would not read it, he should hear it with a ven- geance." Soon after this the ministry of Mr. Williams was ended. Doubtless wrong existed on both sides. It gener- ally does in such cases.
I was personally present when Mr. Williams christened the oldest five of the children of my parents, a fact I re- spectfully desire to remember.
We come, next, to the ministry of the Rev. Charles Briggs. He was, I think, a graduate of the Harvard Divinity School.
About four years after Mr. Williams left the parish, and after quite a number of candidates of different denomina- tions had been listened to, the church and congregation came, quite unanimously, to the choice of Mr. Briggs in the year 1819. He was comparatively young, and fresh from the schools, but he ripened rapidly into favor with his people. He was a genial, wise and kind man, an accept-
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 9 1
able teacher, exemplar and friend. I knew him well. I loved him much. I remember many of his terse and valu- able sentences, both in the pulpit and in private intercourse, containing thoughts always bearing with good and enduring effect upon the life and character of those who heard him, and especially upon the young listener. He was quite popular when I left the town.
In connection with the church organization, I must next introduce the deacons of the parish ; for, in those early times, the office was one of much dignity and importance, and we young folks were taught to regard the deacons as worthy of all honor and respect. My earliest recollections bring up but two, James Brown and Isaac Hastings, own- ers of pews at the extreme northeast and northwest angles of the lower floor of the house. But, personally and offi- cially, they filled other and more distinguished seats, at the foot of the pulpit stairs, their chairs standing at each end of the communion table and facing the audience. Why they were so stationed I, as a little fellow, was much puz- zled to know ; whether because they were good-looking men, whether because they were exemplary men, or whether to regulate the conduct of such as could not appreciate the service ; and I, as yet, remain unenlightened. It was once their duty to "line the hymns " to be intoned by the choir, and I believe I have witnessed the exercise in our church, but cannot feel quite sure of it, as the practice was discon- tinued about the time alluded to.
I cannot refrain from noticing briefly a few of the preva- lent customs of the date and locality we are describing.
Then, as now, young folks were in the habit of forming matrimonial engagements. Then, as now, legal notice of marriage intentions must be publicly given, and, instead of procuring a certificate of such notice, as now practiced, the
92 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE.
town clerk, as directed, would rise in his pew, immediately after the benediction, at the close of the afternoon service, and, with stentorian voice, would declare that " marriage is intended between A. B. of Lexington and C. D. of Con- cord, or E. F. and G. H., both of Lexington." This had to be repeated two succeeding Sabbaths to meet the de- mands of the law. Once, I remember well, it proved quite an amusing occurrence to us. The town clerk, finding him- self a very much interested party to the notice, nothing daunted, rose and manfully showed himself equal to the occasion, as, with full voice, he published his own bann s to our entire satisfaction. Another mode of making public these intentions was to nail upon the church door a public declaration of the facts in the case.
Another prevailing custom of the time was that, if a death occurred in any family of the parish, " a note was put up " (as it was expressed) by the nearest of kin, asking that the Disposer of events would convert the bereavement into a blessing of " spiritual and everlasting good" to the mourn- ing relatives.
If a member of the family was about to start on a long journey, — to Hartford ox Neiv York, — it was customary for friends to ask, in this public manner, for the protecting care of the Good Spirit, for its wise guidance and for the speedy return of the wanderer to his home and family. Again, when a family of the parish was blest by the birth of a child, it was deemed a joy and a duty to ask for the sympathy of friends, to join in a prayer of thankfulness to God for "mercies received." Scarcely a Sabbath passed that some one or more of such papers were not read before the prayer, and often became a dominant feature of the in- vocation. Newspapers, then, were very scarce, and news of a local character moved slowly and doubtfully, and the
THIRD MEETING-HOUSE. 93
intelligence these offerings gave was prized and borne away to the several homes with the satisfaction of having news from headquarters.
I distinctly recollect the old horse-block, located about twenty feet from the southeast corner of the building. It was made of hewn granite blocks, laid about four feet by four and three feet high, with three steps leading to the top. At that time there were very few carriages, excepting wagons, in use in the town, and many single and double horseloads of church-goers were seen, on Sundays, ap- proaching the house of worship with a man astride in front, and, behind him, on a pillion, his wife, and some- times, in her lap, a babe. The horse was guided up to the side of the block, and the animal unburthened by the party or their friends.
I trust I may be allowed to add a short anecdote here in connection with this old block. My father many times told me that, when a lad, one Sunday noontime he happened to be sitting on the block, and overheard two antiquated dames discussing the profound subjects of life, death and the judg- ment day. They looked painfully puzzled, anxious and dis- satisfied with the teachings of the pulpit and the evidences of the Scriptures, till, finally, they became partially ex- hausted and quieted.
The silence was at last broken by the following query and answer :
" Aunt Patty, what do you really believe on this dread- ful subject } "
The answer at last came in long-drawn and subdued sen- tences and sighs :
** Sister, I dont know what to say. Sometimes I think, and then — again — / don't knoiv.''
The lad was amused and told it to his generation. I pass it along to mine.
94 THIRD MEETING-HOUSE.
A few words now about the trees. Immediately about the church there was but Httle foliage. Two or three trees of a leafless look had grown up at the rear of the building, nearly behind the pulpit. Beside these there was but a single one that ornamented the immediate surroundings. This tree was a stately elm which stood at the southeast corner of the building, midway between the belfry and horse-block. Neither of the trees, however, was so situ- ated as to afford shade or shelter over man or animal. A range of posts, about twenty feet from the front of the house, was set, beginning at the front porch and extending, in each direction, to the corners, right and left. These posts were connected at the top by a rail to which the horses were tied, and where they stood, uncovered, without shed, shade or blanket to protect them from the sun, storm or flies during the services in church.
In the old Merriam House (Buckman Tavern) now stand- ing is said to have been located the first post-office of the town. I remember having gone there for letters when the business of the office was transacted in a small building, now standing, at the northeast corner of the house.
The Town Library, consisting of from one hundred to two hundred volumes, during the period of which I am writing, was kept, successively, at the houses of Rufus Merriam, Nathan Munroe and Joshua Russell. The col- lection, I think, was composed chiefly of books of History and Travels, a few Biographies and Moral Essays, together with a scanty supply of Poetry, with here and there a vol- ume on Art, Science and Natural History.
THE EPITAPHS IN THE BURYING-GROUNDS
AT LEXINGTON, MASS.
Read by Francis H. Brown, M.D., October 14, 1902.
During the summer months of 1901-02 it was my privi- lege to pass a certain time in the Town of Lexington, where many of my ancestors were born, and have hved and died.
I was led to carry out a plan which had for some time been in my mind, to study the records of the early and the later town-folk, in that form which may be said to be con- temporaneous with them, and so substantially correct. A gravestone tells the truth ! Yes, presumably so, so far as dates are concerned ; and, to that extent, it is a valu- able aid in the study of the history and the biography of the people of the town. In that view I trust I may have done a service by copying some 716 epitaphs. With all the quaintness of diction, the peculiarities of spelling, of punc- tuation and of type, they are accurate transcripts from the stones, and may be considered as correct biographical records as those of the family Bibles of the inhabitants of this com- munity.
Hidden behind the records which we gather from the headstones, how much of family history lies concealed ! — of strenuous life ; of struggles of the husbandmen in the meadows and fields ; of the going back and forth, in the roads and byways of the town ; of the holding of offices of honor and trust as selectmen, assessors and treasurers, enjoying the confidence of fellow - townsmen ; of proving themselves good, honest, trustworthy New England people. The circumstances of these lives are a precious inheritance to those who can claim them as those of ancestors.
96 EPITAPHS IN BURVING-G ROUNDS.
A copy of these epitaphs accompanies this paper, and will be deposited, with it, in the archives of the Lexington His- torical Society. Moreover, I have made, in connection with the epitaphs, footnotes giving the line of ancestry and many biographical memoranda concerning a considerable number of the decedents. Still farther, I am able to exhibit litho- graphic copies of plans of the old burying-ground and the Robbins Cemetery, in which the gravestones, as to-day situated, are carefully marked and numbered. The tran- script of the epitaph gives, with each one, a number which will serve to indicate the locality of each grave. The plans referred to have been made with much care and great labor by Mr. Eli M. Robbins, a native of the town and now a resident. For permission to use them and for valuable assistance in preparing this paper I am indebted to him.
Another copy of this paper and of the accompanying epitaphs will be placed in the Library of the New England Historic-Genealogical Society in Boston.
I think I may be pardoned if I express the regret that many of the dates on the gravestones do not entirely con- form with the printed records in the History of the town ; that the gravestones, many of them, have been removed from the actual places of burial, and that the presumption is strong that many stones, which would give us valuable information concerning early inhabitants, are buried beneath the sod, or have furnished useful — but unsentimental — ad- juvants to stone walls, the foundations of buildings or the covering of drains. You will excuse the plain language. I speak as a historian and one dealing with facts. I trust that some of the missing stones may be recovered in due time.
It is very reasonable to suppose, and indeed Mr. Robbins bears me out in the suggestion, that all parts of the old burying-ground now wanting stones are thickly populated
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. 97
with the remains of those whose stones are set up in serried lines or have been destroyed or buried.
Within a few years Mr. Henry A. May of Roxbury, a professional genealogist, suggested to his kinsman, Mr. John James May of Dorchester, a member of the New England Historic -Genealogical Society, the necessity of "taking off the epitaphs" in the various burying-grounds throughout the State, in order that records, supposed to be of unfailing accuracy, on stones, slowly but surely yielding to the ravages of time, might be preserved for the benefit of future genealogists and historians. The suggestion was at once accepted by Mr. J.J. May, and he was appointed by the Society the chairman of a committee to carry out the plan.
The plan of Mr. H. A. May was that a central and organ- ized body, like the Historic Genealogical Society, should enlist the interest of the inhabitants in every town in the Commonwealth, with the request that persons in the vari- ous towns, with historical interest and local pride, should take the matter in hand, and that complete lists, so far as possible, should be made of decedents in the towns as shown by the memorial stones. The town clerk of Lexington was asked to interest himself in this plan, and he called it to the attention of Miss Sarah Eddy Holmes. To her the author of this paper is much indebted for valuable assistance in its preparation.
It is interesting, in this connection, to refer in a few words to the earliest history of this town, as it has been laboriously and, I am sure, accurately set down by the Rev. Carleton A. Staples, the warm-hearted, earnest Christian minister of the First Parish.
Did it ever occur to you, who live in Lexington in 1902, to recall your ancestors, those who in 1638 came out here
98 EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS.
to the Cambridge Farms, into the wilderness, from the httle towns of Boston and Watertown ? Do you reahze how quaint they were in their dress and their speech, and how stern in their rehgion and their forms of daily life ; how they put forth their muscle and their brawn to wrest from nature the treasures which she held bound up in the woods and the fields and the meadows of the town ?
It is a matter of history and of evolution, if it may so be called, to note how the course of the town went on, as that of all our towns has done ; with allegiance to the king and the royal government ; how the people took part in the In- dian wars, and how Hugh Mason and John Mason and the others were in the Narragansett war ; how Edmund Mun- roe and his kinsmen went off with the Roger's Rangers, and spared not their lives at Ticonderoga and Lake George ; how Parson Clarke harbored in his home Hancock and Adams, and there, at that time, wrote philippics which were strongholds for the men of Middlesex County. Do you recall that here, on Lexington Common, the first actual resistance to British control took place, by which I mean that the spirit of the English men, who came to this coun- try in 1620 and 1630, filled with the spirit of Magna Charta, would not be satisfied except with every liberty which the principles of their birthright could furnish ?
If it be true that Herlackenden came, personally or by proxy, to this neighborhood in 1638 and died in the same year, and if Pelham came about that year and soon married the widow of Herlackenden, holding many acres of ground in the centre of the town, with only one house until the Pelham family sold to Muzzey in 1693 ; — these facts would imply a very small clientele within the limits of the up-in- town village from which to draw denizens for the ancient burying-ground. But Mr. Staples tells us there were forty
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. 99
houses and two hundred inhabitants in the town in 1693, and, while the centre was held as a large manor property, there were many outlying farms and holdings which were brought into the limits of the newly incorporated town in 1 71 3. Such an analysis seems needed as a preliminary to the question, " Who ought to have been laid in our bury- ing-ground ? "
It is natural to suppose that, with the earliest conditions of the population of our country towns, the dead were buried on the farms, at least till the parish, the church and the public burying-ground were established ; but no evi- dences of such burials, by headstones or otherwise, are known to-day. At the same time we do not know that the burying-grounds are not as old as the settlements. The stones are no certain guide to the age of graveyards.
I have been told that, besides the old burying-ground, the burials beneath the battle monument, the Robbins cemetery n the East Village and the new cemetery, there are no known places of sepulture in our town.
Since writing this I learn that a tomb was built on the Reuben Reed place on the Lowell turnpike, and that it may still be there ; also that the bodies of some who were buried on the Nathaniel Pierce place were removed some years ago to the new cemetery.
I find that in 1692 John Munroe gave the town a plot of land for a burying-ground ; he was the son of the immigrant William, and himself the father of ten children by his wife Hannah ; he was a subscriber to the meeting-house, and filled many offices in the gift of the town ; he was employed many years to ring the bell and " sweep out the meeting- house," and was finally gathered to his fathers in 1753. This plot of land is the northwest portion of the present ground ; its northern limit corresponds to a line drawn in
ICX) EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS.
front of the four tombs at the right of the present entrance avenue, and is continued to the back wall. This limit is the northern boundary of the Munroe land and the southern limit of the Pelham property.
In 1747 the ground was enlarged by purchase of land from William Munroe, "the blacksmith" (1701-1783), by a committee of which William Munroe (1703-1747) was the chairman. You all know the account of his getting cold while haying in his meadow, and that he was the first buried in this portion of the ground.
In 181 1 a plot of land was bought just outside the pas- sage to the old ground on the Pelham, land and on this four tombs were built, which bear the names of Harrington, Augustus, Munroe and Fessenden.
Three of the name of Jonathan Harrington were present at the Battle of Lexington. Jonathan Harrington married Ruth Fiske, was wounded on the battlefield, dragged him- self to his own doorstep now on Elm Avenue, and died in the presence of his wife. Jonathan Harrington, b. May 21, 1723, d. 1809, mar. Widow Abigail Dunster. His daughter Rebecca married Edmund Munroe in 1769, who was killed at Monmouth in 1778. His son, Jonathan, the fifer of the minute-men and the last survivor of the Battle of Lexing- ton, is buried with him in the same tomb.
Later an additional lot of land was bought by various residents of the town, to the north of the four tombs and extending to the northeast limit. It is known as the Pro- prietor's Lot. A list of those buried in this plot is given with the copy deposited with the Historic -Genealogical Society.
Still later a lot of land was set aside by members of the Robbins and Simonds families. A lithograph of this portion of the burying-ground, from a drawing of Mr. Eli M. Robbins, accompanies this paper.
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. lOI
The private burying-ground of the Robbins family in the East Village was established by Stephen Robbins (1758- 1847). Twenty-one epitaphs are now found in this yard ; but it is well known that some hundred persons have been buried there. A complete list was given by Caira Robbins to her nephew, Eli M. Robbins, and this was copied by him and placed in one of the record books of the town. It has now been copied by Miss Holmes and is in- corporated with this paper.
It is interesting to note the oldest known stones in the town.
Daniel Tedd (Tidd) died November 29, 1690. This is the oldest stone which we find to-day.
Isaac Stone died December 10, 1690.
Lydia Meriam, December 29, 1690.
Mary, wife of Joseph Teed, and Rachel, daughter of John and Rachel Stone died August 31, 1692.
" Sacred to Liberty and the rights of mankind." Cer- tainly no mortuary record of the town of Lexington would be complete which did not recall the names on the battle monument on the village green.
" Ensign Robert Munroe, Jonas Parker, Samuel Hadley, Jonathan Harrington, Jr., Isaac Muzzey, Caleb Harrington, John Brown, Asahel Porter of Woburn " fell on that day, the first victims to the sword of British tyranny and oppres- sion," as the words of the monument give it. It is known that the bodies of those who were killed at the Battle of Lexington were buried together at a spot on the northerly side of the Munroe plot or perhaps just outside it ; there they rested till 1835, when the bodies were removed to the monument, then built, where they now remain.
I hesitate to record a criticism of Hudson's accuracy, — to call attention to his copy of the inscription on the monu-
102 EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS.
ment. "Sacred to liberty and the rights of mankind" reads the strong, virile, noble epitaph of Parson Clarke. "Sacred to the liberty and the right of mankind" is the enfeebled copy as I find it on page 217 of the town history. The men of 1775 periled their lives in the sacred cause of Liberty in its absolute and concrete form. Note that Par- son Clarke gives the word "liberty" first, making it supe- rior to and inclusive of the rights of mankind and of the freedom and independence of America. The epitaph is a masterly and noble production and has often been referred to. Pity that the pith of its first and strongest line should have been taken out by the insertion of an offending article.
Joshua Simonds, who died in 1805 and is laid in the old burying-ground, was in the meeting-house with the town powder on the 19th of April when the British came up to the common. He was determined, if the enemy came into the church, to blow up the powder, even if his own life were lost by the means. On the passage of the troops he found a straggling British soldier, whom he forced to surrender. He took his gun and marched the man to Burlington. There he delivered the prisoner and his gun to Captain Parker, and it is this gun, given by Parker's descendants to the State, which is now in the Representatives' Hall at the State House.
Mr. E. M. Robbins's grand uncle, Thomas Robbins, was carrying milk to Boston on the 19th of April ; he was met and made a prisoner near Alewive Brook in West Cam- bridge (Menotomy), and was brought to Buckman's Tavern with David Harrington, another prisoner, where they were released. Mr. E. M. Robbins had this fact from the origi- nal folk.
Benjamin Wellington, coming down the " Back Road," now Pleasant Street, in the East Village, was made a pris-
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. 103
oner by the British, but was afterwards released, and made his way over Mount Independence to the common, and engaged in the contests of the day.
This record is copied from the monument, erected by his descendants, at the junction of the present Massachusetts Avenue and Pleasant Street in the East Village :
Near this spot
at early dawn on the
19th of April, 1775,
Benjamin Wellington,
a minute-man,
was surprised by British
scouts and dismissed.
With undaunted courage
he borrowed another gun and
hastened to join his comrades
on Lexington Green.
He also served his country
at White Plains and
Saratoga.
The first armed man
taken in the Revolution.
A British soldier was buried in the ground of the Munroe purchase. He was wounded on the 19th of April, and car- ried to the Buckman Tavern, where he died on the 22d. He was buried at a spot near the Eustis monument. Mr. Eli M. Robbins had the exact spot pointed out to him by Abijah Harrington, who died within a few years. Harring- ton's father was sexton in 1775, had buried the soldier and knew the spot well. The exact spot has been pointed out to the writer. The grave should have a permanent mark.
The pathetico-tragic stone near the entrance of the bury-
104 EPITAPHS IN BURVING-G ROUNDS.
ing-ground chronicles the fact that six out of seven children of the Child family died at tender ages, within eleven days of each other. It points, very likely, to diphtheria, or "throat distemper," as the nomenclature of that day gave it. Another case of five in one family, and still another of three, are of similar import.
The various forms of belief of our ancestors in the final resurrection seem to be brought out in the epitaphs in the Lexington and other burying-grounds. Without entering into a theological discussion, — the creed of our early New England people seems to have been thus summarized : Granted that there is a God, and that a future world will exist, the theology of some two hundred years ago seems to have provided that, at some indefinite future period — it may be centuries or aeons hence — a phenomenon will occur which will be known as the Resurrection, when the actual graves will be opened, the constituents of our earthly, material bodies be drawn from the soil or mar- shaled from the air, with which they shall have incorpor- ated themselves, and shall appear in earthly, not spiritual forms, before a tribunal which shall doom them, on a very indefinite form of decision, either to a fixed condition of per- fect happiness, whatever that may imply, or by an equally uncertain line of demarcation to a certain condition of tor- ture, physical or mental, through endless ages ; this as the result of the few years of our earthly existence. To us of this material and free-thinking age, many questions arise and jostle together in our minds, seeking a solution ; but let them pass. The question naturally comes up to us, with the reasoning powers which God has given us, if such arbi- trary decisions of utter happiness or inevitable and unceas- ing torment are conformable to the love, the justice of the Supreme Being who rules our destinies. But that these
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. 10$
views of the resurrection obtained in the years of long ago may be learned from some of the epitaphs.
Mary Buckman, wife of John Buckman, the senior, is made to say :
Dear friends, for me pray do not weep ; I am not dead, but here do sleep Within this solid lump of clay Until the Resurrection day ; And here indeed I must remain Till Christ shall raise me up again.
And of Mary Chandler, daughter of Major John, who died so late as 1818, it was said:
Like roses cropt in their bloom, She's carried to the silent tomb. There speechless in dust to lie Till the trump sounds on high.
It is an interesting point, though it may be thought a minor one, to consider the character of the stones used for memorials. In the impecunious condition of our early ancestors, it is undoubtedly the fact that no stones, or else rude pasture stones, were used to mark the final resting- place.' As a warmer regard for the decedents dawned on the survivors, or, perhaps, more money was obtainable, a certain sacredness attached to the place of sepulture, and more elaborate forms of stone, or at least some stones, marked the place of burial.
The cast-off body was committed to the earth, but the sentiment of those who were left behind showed itself by a species of evolution in the general tenor of the epitaphs. The bald theology of the earlier years became softened by the milder tenets of more recent belief. The dictum of the
I06 EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS.
early pastor that children dying in infancy were doomed to everlasting perdition ; that the cry of the sorrowing mother, authentically reported, was answered by the stern New Eng- land minister that there was no hope for the child who had died, and that hell was paved with infant skulls ■ — such belief, or, at least, forms of words simulating belief, has passed away, and the faith of modern Christianity regard- ing the " little children " has come back to the words of the Saviour, — "of such is the kingdom of heaven." How touching is the epitaph of Henry True Brown :
This lovely bud, so young and fair. Called hence by early doom : Just come to show how sweet a flower In Paradise would bloom.
The epitaph was originally written in 1819 by Leigh Richmond, and may be found over the grave of Ann Steatt at Islington, near London.
A few more quaint epitaphs may be noted.
Of Mrs. Sarah Childs it is said :
Friends nor physicians could not save My mortal body from the grave : Nor can the grave confine me here When Jesus calls me to appear.
David Cutler
No house of pleasure 'bove ground Do I expect to have. My bed of rest for sleeping found I've made the silent grave.
EPITAPHS IN BURYIi\G-GROUNDS.
107
Mrs. Sarah Dudley :
Christ my redeemer lives
And often from the skies
Looks down and watches all my dust
Till he shall bid it rise.
Joseph Brown :
" who having for many years used the office of deacon well in the church of Christ in Lexington, purchased to himself a good degree and great boldness in the faith which is in Christ, who departed this life in the 86th year of his age."
There are many examples of the old epitaph :
Behold, all you that passeth by, As you are now so once was I, As I am now so you will be. Prepare for death and follow me.
Indeed, this old verse has been much used in all burying- grounds from the time when it was rendered, in very old French, on the tomb of Edward, the Black Prince, in 1376, as it may be seen in Canterbury Cathedral, and as Petti- grew, in his collection of epitaphs, gives it in a dozen places in England.
Somewhat differently rendered we find it at Tichfield, in England, over the grave of James Steward in 1794, and repeated at Lexington :
Time was I stood where thou dost now And view'd the dead as thou dost me : Ere long thou'lt lie as low as I And others stand and look on thee.
1 08 EPITA PHS IN B UR YING-GROUNDS.
Of my ancestor, Ruhamah (Wellington) Brown, it is said :
'Tis but a few whose days amount To threescore years and ten : And all beyond that short account To sorrow, toil and pain.
It is a more cheerful anticipation which is figured in the epitaph of Mrs. Dorothy Tidd :
While she sleeps beneath the sod We hope she's gone to rest with God.
It is a bit of stern realism which crops out in the epitaph which claims :
Lo ! in the law Jehovah dwells, But Jesus is concealed ; Whereas the Gospel's nothing else But Jesus Christ revealed.
This is in a hopeful vein :
No death is sudden to a soul prepar'd When God's own hour brings God's reward : Her death (and such, Oh reader, wish thy own) Was free from terrors and without a groan : Her spirit to himself the Almighty drew, Mild as the sun exhales the ascending dew.
It is a queer return to life to credit Abigail Seed, as shown by her epitaph, with the fact that she had
"extra fingers and toes."
Was there, or not, a double meaning in the inscription at old Grey Friars in Edinburg, Scotland ?
Here snug in grave my wife doth lie ; Now she's at rest, and so am I.
EPITAPHS IN BURYING-GROUNDS. 109
To speak once more of the character of the earlier grave- stones, we find the evidence of native slate and native carv- ing. When we come down nearer to our own time the slates are often of a different character, finer in texture, more carefully tooled, and with the inscriptions only put in by native workmen. In fact, this is the case all through the last centuries, — the seventeenth and eighteenth ; we are told that most of the gravestones were imported from Wales or England, quarried and carved in those countries, brought here as ballast and cut, so far as the inscriptions go, in this country. A glance at the gravestones in the Lexington burying-ground will show if this point be well taken.
Our ancestors were said to have had large families — and a study of the history of the town bears out this statement. It is, however, interesting to note that the rate of infant mortality was larger than obtains to-day, and that both adults and children succumbed to acute diseases which we to-day consider preventable and curable. With our modern knowledge of bacteria, of antisepsis and asepsis, and of regimen and nutritious food, we can easily see how great is their influence on the treatment of disease and its conse- quent mortality.
I may be pardoned for mentioning the markers of the Sons of the American Revolution, which have been placed by that society, in loving memory of those who periled their lives for the establishment of a separate, free and un- trameled entity of our American people. The society, of which I have the honor to be president, cordially recognizes the indebtedness which they owe to the early inhabitants of Lexington, who on their own village green met, resisted and practically vanquished the soldiers of King George.
The epitaphs referred to in this paper will be published by the Lex- ington Historical Society in a separate volume.
THE CONCORD TURNPIKE. Read by A. Bradford Smith, February io, 1903.
Near the close of the eighteenth century and the begin- ning of the nineteenth, there were not many roads, and most of them were crooked and in bad condition. Until 1786 it was fourteen or fifteen miles from Lexington to Boston, going by the way of Harvard Square, thence through Brook - line and Roxbury, over the neck to Boston. At one time there was a tablet in the square, with this inscription : "Seven miles to Boston," over the great bridge between Cambridge and Brighton. This bridge was built by Cam- bridge when Lexington was a part of it. The neck be- tween Boston and Roxbury was one mile and 117 feet in length, and was the only way to Boston by land. The Charles River bridge connecting Boston to Charlestown was incorporated March 9, 1785, and was opened to public travel on the 17th of June, 1786 ; the bridge is 1,503 feet in length, 42 feet in breadth, and cost ^550,000. The archi- tect was Capt. John Stone. He was buried in Concord, and the following inscription is on his gravestone : " In memory of Capt. John Stone, the architect of that modern and justly celebrated piece of architecture, Charles River bridge. He was a man of good natural abilities, which seemed to be adorned with moral virtues and Christian graces. He departed this life in 1791, in the sixty-third year of his age."
There were not many modes of conveyance and but few carriages ; farmers had to go to market with their horse and ox carts. The first improvement in transportation was the old Middlesex Canal, incorporated in 1789 and com-
IHE CONCORD TURNPIKE. Ill
pleted in 1808, at an expense of $828,000. That was an immense sum for those times. Its breadth at the surface was thirty feet ; at the bottom, twenty feet, and the depth was four feet. This and other short canals on the Merrimac opened navigable communication between Boston and Concord, N. H., boats drawn by horses being used. They went at the great speed of three miles per hour. This was the first enterprise of the kind attempted in the United States. People from Lowell who wanted to go to Boston shopping would have to stay over night, as the trip took nine hours and the day was well spent when they arrived. This canal was in operation until the opening of the Boston & Lowell Railroad in 1835. After that the canal was used for the transportation of freight until some- where in the forties. Another improvement was the build- ing of the Newburyport turnpike, which was finished in 1806, at an expense of $420,000. Next followed the Lowell turnpike, built about 1806, the tollgate for which was near the residence of the late Charles Winship.
The third turnpike, upon which I base my paper, is the old Cambridge and Concord turnpike, running through the south part of Lexington.
An act to establish a corporation by the name of The Cambridge and Concord Turnpike Association.
Whereas, the highway leading from Cambridge through Lex- ington to Concord is circuitous, and the expense of making, straight- ening and keeping the same in good repair is much greater than can be reasonably required of said towns :
Section i. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Represen- tatives in General Court assembled, and by the authority of the same, that Jeduthan Wellington, John Richardson, Thomas Heald, Francis Jarvis, Charles Wheeler, William Wheeler, Jonas Lee, Richard Richardson, John Stearns, Benjamin Kendall, Thomas Clarke, Peter Clarke, Ephraim Flint, Ephraim, Flint, Jun., Daniel Brooks, Leonard Hoar, and Abiel Abbot, together with such others as may hereafter
112 THE CONCORD TURNPIKE.
associate with them and their successors, be, and they hereby are made a corporation by the name and style of The Cambridge and Concord Turnpike Corporation, and by that name may sue and prosecute and be sued and prosecuted unto final judgment and execution; and shall have a common seal and exercise and enjoy all powers and privileges which are usually given and incident to similar corporations for mak- ing turnpike roads.
Beginning at or near the dwelling-house of Jonas Wyeth in Cam- bridge, near the common, and from thence to continue a westerly course, south of Dr. Andrew Craige's summer house " [near where the Cambridge Observatory now stands], "and on said course to the bridge, over the river out of Fresh Pond, so called " [now known as Alewive Brook] ; " thence on said route about thirty feet south of the dwelling-house of Richard Richardson; thence on said route south of the dwelling-house of Joshua Kendall, in said Cambridge" [now Belmont] ; " thence on the said course, near the dwelling-house of Joseph Underwood" [which is the first house west of Franklin School- house]; " thence on the said course near the dwelling-house of Benjamin Phinney " [better known as the Webster Smith place] ; " then on said course by the dwelling-house of Thomas Tufts of Lexington ; thence on said course near the dwelling-houses of Abiel Abbot, Leonard Hoar, Timothy Brooks and Daniel Brooks, in the town of Lincoln; thence on said course near the dwelHng-house of Thaddeus Hunt in the town of Concord ; thence on said course on as straight a line as circum- stances will admit, to the meeting-house in Concord. And the said road shall not be less than four rods wide, and the path to be traveled in, not less than twenty-two feet wide in any part thereof; and when the said turnpike road shall be sufficiently made, and approved of by a committee appointed by the Court of General Sessions of the Peace, for the county of Middlesex, then the said corporation shall be author- ized to erect two turnpike gates on the said road. And be it further enacted, that it shall be lawful for said corporation to demand and receive of each traveler or passenger, at each of the said gates, the following rates of toll, viz.: For every coach, chariot, photon, or other four-wheel carriages drawn by two horses, twenty-five cents, and if drawn by more than two horses, an additional sum of four cents for each horse ; for every cart or wagon drawn by two oxen or horses, ten cents, and if drawn by more than two oxen or horses, an additional sum of three cents for each ox or horse ; for every curricle, fifteen
THE CONCORD TURNPIKE. II3
cents ; for every chaise, chair, or other carriage drawn by one horse, ten cents ; for every man and horse, five cents ; for every sled or sleigh drawn by two oxen or horses, an additional sum of two cents, for each ox or horse ; for every sled or sleigh drawn by one horse, five cents ; for all horses, mules, oxen or neat cattle, led or driven, besides those in teams and carriages, one cent each ; and for all sheep and swine, at the rate of three cents by the dozen, and in that proportion for a greater or less number. And the said corporation shall at each place where the said toll shall be collected, erect and keep constantly exposed to open view, a sign or board, with the rates of toll of all the tollable articles, fairly and legibly written thereon, in large or capital characters. And be it further enacted, that if any person shall willfully or maliciously cut, break down or otherwise injure or destroy either of the said turnpike gates or signboards, or shall dig up or carry away any earth from the said road, or in any manner damage the same, or shall forcibly pass or attempt to pass the said gates by force without having first paid the legal toll at such gate, such person shall forfeit and pay a fine not exceding forty dollars, nor less than two dollars, to be recovered by the treasurer of the said corporation, And be it further enacted, that the first meeting of the said corporation shall be held at the house of Phinehas Paine, inn-holder in Concord, on the fourth Tuesday in March inst., at two of the clock in the afternoon, for the purpose of choosing officers, who shall be sworn to the faithful discharge of his trust. And each proprietor in the said turnpike road, or by his agent duly authorized in writing, shall have a right to vote in all meetings of the said corporation, and shall be entitled to as many votes as the said proprietor has shares in the same; provided his number of said shares do not exceed ten; but no proprietor shall be entiUed to more than ten votes, for any greater number of shares he may possess. And be it further enacted, that the said corporation shall be liable to pay all damages which shall happen to any person from whom toll is demandable by this act, for any damage which shall arise from any defect of bridges, or want of repairs within the same way ; and shall also be liable to a fine, on the presentment of the Grand Jury, for not keeping the same way or the bridges thereon in good repair.
In the House of Representatives, March 7, 1803, this bill having had three several readings, passed to be enacted.
John C. Jones, Speaker.
114 THE CONCORD TURNPIKE.
In Senate, March 7, 1803. This bill having had two several readings, passed to be enacted.
David Cobb, President.
March 8, 1803. By the Governor approved.
Caleb Strong. A true copy. Attest :
John Avery, Secretary.
After the road was completed the directors proceeded to erect two tollgates, and one was built near the residence of the late Leonard Hoar of Lincoln, the other about one- half mile west of Fresh Pond, near the estate of Richard Richardson, who afterwards opened a hotel. Then Mr. Leonard Hoar concluded to open a public house near the junction of Concord Avenue and the road leading to Lincoln Center. After the completion of the turnpike, a worthy minister from Concord drove over the road in his chaise one Sunday morning. A few moments afterward a part of the road over which he had driven disappeared from sight. There was an advertisement in the Boston papers, which read as follows : " Lost — A part of the Cambridge and Concord turnpike. Whoever will return the same will be suitably rewarded." A part of the road which disappeared was over a piece of meadow and the weight of the gravel caused the overflow.
When this turnpike was built, it was customary to go in a straight line, and this road went over nearly all the hills between the two places, which might have been avoided and the distance increased comparatively little, and then it would have been one of the most attractive thoroughfares in the county. A line of stages ran over this road, but owing to the hills and bad condition of the road, they were soon discontinued. It is my impression that Jeduthan Wellington was the first president of the
THE CONCORD TURNPIKE. II5
corporation, and his house was located a few rods north- east of the Belmont town hall. He was nicknamed Jed Wellington ; and the large hill in Belmont went by the name of "Jed's Hill" for many years. The road did not prove a very paying investment, and, after several assess- ments on the stockholders, they petitioned the county com- missioners to lay it out as a county road in 1828. After it became a county road, the abuttors, when they reset their fences or walls, brought them into the road from one to ten feet. I know one man who brought his fence in ten feet, and there are places on the road not much more than fifty feet between the walls. About thirty or forty years ago Lincoln people altered the grade of the hills in that town, which greatly improved the road.
The section of the town near the turnpike was very dear to the gifted Theodore Parker, who was born in close prox- imity to it, and traveled over the road to school. As he was a lover of nature, all the birds and trees in that vicinity were dear friends, and he analyzed their special gifts and protected them from harm. There was a very tall pine-tree on the turnpike that was a landmark for miles around. It was said Mr. Parker, hearing that it was to be cut down, went to the owner, saying that if he would spare that tree he would pay him what he would receive for the wood. Suffice it to say the tree remained, the owner being too kind-hearted a man to take the proffered bounty. Recently, when a fire swept through those woods, the tree was so badly affected that its life-sustaining power was gone, and it was deemed advisable to cut it down. It was known for some time as the " Parker Pine," and the present owner of the estate thinks of erecting a summer house on the old site.
Many pleasant recollections cluster round the Concord
Il6 THE CONCORD TURNPIKE.
turnpike, which come forcibly to mind as I recall the past, — tender remembrance of large and worthy families who dwelt on this road and tilled the soil or were diligent in other vocations, most of them now scattered, and many of them reaping the reward of work well done, in the heavenly home. The road still remains one of the loveliest and most retired in our town, richly beautiful in natural scenery, abounding in fine, noble trees and lovely wild-flowers ; much used for pleasure driving in the summer and fall. As the old turnpike is quite a factor in the past of our town, may coming generations cherish this road, rich now with so much beauty !
EARLY DAYS OF THE LEXINGTON HIGH SCHOOL.
Read by Miss Mary E. Hudson, October 13, 1903.
With the close of the present school year, the Lexington High School completes the first half-century of its history, and, to some of us who saw its small beginnings, it has seemed a fitting thing that some record should be made of the vicissitudes which marked its early career, while it was fighting its hard fight for continued existence.
In the year 17 16, as the town records show, the first public school of Lexington was established on Lexington Common. One hundred and thirty-eight years of slow development were required before the citizens of Lexing- ton, in town meeting assembled, in May, 1854, made the first appropriation for a high school in the town. A primary and grammar school in each of the two villages and an un- graded school in three outlying districts made up the edu- cational system of Lexington at that time, and, in this, the town was in no way behind her sister towns of the same population and money valuation. Private schools of varying degrees of excellence had from time to time been estab- lished in our midst and, one after another, had closed a pre- carious existence with few to mourn their untimely end. To country academies or young ladies' seminaries went a few of our more favored youth, but for the most of our young people the district school was the only alma mater. But a new day was dawning in the educational world. High schools were springing up on every side and the day of the village academy seemed drawing to a close. In 1853 the
Il8 EARLY DAYS OF HIGH SCHOOL.
question of a high school for Lexington was first publicly discussed, but failed to gain popular support. In the fol- lowing year, 1854, a vigorous movement was made, a com- mittee was appointed to consider the subject in all its lights, and, at an adjourned town meeting in May, the committee reported unanimously in favor of the project and recom- mended an appropriation of five hundred dollars "for high-school purposes," the regular school appropriation at that time, being twenty-five hundred.
The report was vigorously assailed. Conservatives, in bursts of dramatic oratory doubted the wisdom of the new departure ; but the broader spirit of our citizens tri- umphed over all opposition, the munificent appropriation was made, and the Lexington High School was an estab- lished institution in the town.
To the school committee was assigned the duty of pro- viding a suitable room for our reception, and the upper chamber in the town hall was selected for the purpose. Here on the morning of September 4, 1854, with hearts beating high with eager anticipations, we gathered, twenty girls and ten boys, the first pupils in the first term of the new high school.
With curious eyes, as we climbed the winding stairs, we inspected our new surroundings, and, when compared with the attractive classrooms our successors enjoy to-day, it cannot be vSaid our quarters were palatial. This upper room in the town hall, intended for occasional use as a com- mittee room, was but poorly adapted to the needs of thirty well grown pupils, and to those who have known that room only as a recitation room or chemical laboratory, it may well be an enigma how we adapted ourselves to such restricted quarters. The chamber was just thirty feet long and twenty -two feet wide. Lighted only from one end, black-
EARLY DAYS OF HIGH SCHOOL. 1 19
boards around three sides darkened it still more. The three uncurtained windows were not over clean and the arched ceiling was none too white. At the left of the entrance door, on a slightly raised platform, stood the teacher's table. Facing that door and table were three rows of double desks exactly accomodating the thirty pupils who presented them- selves for admission. These desks, with the necessary recitation seats, so filled our limited quarters that one can readily understand how the gymnastic exercises enjoyed by the pupils of a later day would have been quite impossible for us. Indeed, I remember how, when our first teacher indulged in some of his peripatetic wanderings up and down our narrow aisles, he sometimes came in sudden and un- pleasant collision with the sharp corners of our desks.
At the right of the entrance door there stood a big, black, clumsy stove, a hungry devourer of coal, from which the resulting amount of heat was lamentably small. Up from this monstrous structure there rose, with numerous elbows, an ugly smokepipe which meandered along the ceiling until it disappeared in a hole in the opposite wall. No doubt a chimney was somewhere there concealed, but it has left no impress on my memory.
On the rear wall of the room, above the central window, there appeared a strange, box-like excrescence of unpainted pine, popularly termed a ventilator. The opening and shut- ting of a valve in its front regulated, theoretically, the ven- tilation of the room ; but, as the ventilator never was finished and the connection with the outside air never es- tablished, it made little difference to us when the string attached to the valve broke off and the structure ceased a pretence of usefulness. With a heated stovepipe over our heads, no oxygen to speak of to supply thirty pairs of vigorous lungs, and no outlet for the vitiated air but a small
120 EARLY DAYS OF HIGH SCHOOL.
open funnel hole over the teacher's desk, leading into one of the anterooms facing the street, well was it for our peace of mind that we knew nothing of germs and microbes in those days, and plodded on in happy ignorance of the dire- ful perils we were incurring day by day.
Here in this room the high school began its work, and while the season continued mild we were well content with our surroundings. But there came a day, and all too soon it came, when bodily discomfort gravely interfered with mental growth and development. The winter of 1854 and 1855 was a hard one, and our schoolroom was very cold. The floor, through whose yawning seams the cold wind came in gusts, was like ice to our aching feet, and many were the expedients by which we strove to better our con- dition. Pieces of carpeting,