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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

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BOSTON;
WILLIAM D. TICKNOR,
AND
H. B. WILLIAMS.
1842.

'i-J-Hw

Entered accordinsto Act of Gongregs, in the year eighteen hundred and forty-two,
BT H, B.,WILt,IAMS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachm etts

YAL

V'-'S

BOSTON;
PRINTED BY 8. K. DICKINSON
"WAaHINOTON STBEBT.

Ks<":>

NOTE

The author of these pages acknowledges his obligations to
Snow's ' History of Boston,' and to Bowen's ' Picture of
Boston,' for some interesting facts. The ' History of Boston '
sliould not be suffered to remain out of print. The ' Picture
of Boston ' is a valuable work, both for strangers and our own
citizens.

Boston Common Was ohe of the original town
fields. The records of Boston contain some in
teresting facts connected with its early history. In
December, 1634, the inhabitants met after a 'Thurs
day lecture,' as usual, to transact the business of
the town. They chose seven men to divide the
town lands among the settlers. This was four
years after the settlement of the place. Men were
purposely chosen, it was said, of ' the inferior sort,'
because it was feared that the rich would not
make a liberal distribution of the land to the
poor, but would reserve too much for ' new comers
and common.' Gov. Winthrop had assured them
that large reservations for such purposes would be
best for the town. After the appointment of the
distributing committee, the Rev. John Cotton
convinced the people from the scriptures on the
Sabbath that they should have coinmitted such
business to the elders. Accordingly after the next
1

6 BOSTON COMMON.
Thursday lecture, the town rescinded their former
vote, and, with an excellent spirit, appointed a dif
ferent committee to distribute the lands. There is
certainly some advantage, even in a democratic
state, in having men to plan for us who can feel
the influence of other motives than those which
are suggested by personal poverty. To the enlight
ened and liberal policy of such men, the people of
Boston owe their Common.
The principal part of what is now the Common
was called originally ' Colbm-n's field,' from the
circumstance that ' W. Colburn ' lived near it, and
not from any ownership on his part.
In the town records, February, 1635, it is said :
' All the fences are to be made sufficient by the sev
enth of the second month, and they to be looked
unto by our brother Grubb and Hudson for the
new field,' now the vicinity of the General Hos
pital ; ' brother Penniman and brother Colburn for
the field by him, and by brothers Penn and brother
Belcher for the fort field,' Fort Hill ; ' brother Wat
son and EveriU at the mUl field,' so called from a
windmill on Copp's Hill.
In June, 1636, the records say :
' A sufficient foot-way is ordered to be raade
from W. Colburn's field and unto Samuel Wil-
bour's field next Boxbury,' (the Neck), ' by the sur
veyors of high-ways.' Perhaps the antiquary may
inform us whether this ' sufficient foot-way' was the

FORMATION OP THE COMMON. 7
origin of either of the present streets southward
of the Common ; whether Tremont, Boylston, or
Pleasant street, grew from this beginning, or
whether it was one of the ancient landmarks of
which no trace remains.
The present boundary of the Common by Bea
con HiU seems to have been fixed as early as
March, 1640, by the following vote of the town :
' Hereafter there shaU be no land granted either
for house plot or garden to any person, out of the
open ground or common field, which is left be
tween the Sentry HiU and Mr. Colburn's end, ex
cept three or four lots to make up the street from
brother Robert Walker's to the round marsh.'
It is supposed that this field ' by W. Colburn *
had acquired the name of The Common as early as
1646, and that this place is intended in the foUow
ing vote in May of that year, namely : " No dry cat
tle, young cattle, or horse, shaU be free to go on the
Common this year but one horse of Elder Oliver.'
In 1787, the present southeast corner of the
Common as far west as the burying-ground, and
consisting of two acres and one eighth of an acre,
was conveyed to the town by WiUiam Foster, and
thus the Common was formed into its present size
and shape. The whole enclosure within the pres
ent fence contains fifty acres and twenty-two rods.

BOSTON COMMON.

The rapid growth ofthe city is making the Com
mon an object of increasing importance and inter
est. The vacant places in different parts of the
city are fast fiUing up, the single dweUings, with
yards and gardens between them, are giving place
to rows of brick buildings, and Boston is becom
ing a city which is compact together. A great pop
ulation is already at the avenues into this place,
and the busy preparation for new buildings
throughout the city is like the stir and noise of a
camp strengthening itself to receive an expected
multitude. As the citizens find themselves de
prived of their accustomed green spots in the
neighborhood of their dweUings and along the
paths of their daily business, and the atmosphere
of the city grows more confined with the increase
of brick walls reflecting the heat of the sun, and
giving it out at evening to overpower the coolness
of the night, the Common, with its interesting
scenery, its pure air and shaded aird spacious
walks, is likely to become an object of increas
ing value and affection with the inhabitants.
The poetical shepherd in Virgil promises his
competitor that he should be his great Apollo, if he
would teU him where in the earth the space of
heaven is visible only to the extent of three ells.
The inhabitant of the wide Mantuan plains was
obliged to look down into a weU to solve that

THE SKY OVER THE COMMON. 9
riddle ; but inany people in a crowded city could
answer it by pointing to the heavens over their
usual places of labor. Many, very many, in a
great city, seldom see the arch of heaven. ^ Even
those who walk or ride for pleasure are often
struck with the effect of a fuU view of the sky
when they are out of the city. One of the great
advantages of the Common is the unobstructed
^ sight of the heavens above it. Fifty continuous
acres of blue sky are tliere guarantied to the in
habitants of Boston against the encroachment of
brick waUs, for ever. The eager spuit of gain, so
curious in titles to property, has of late started the
question in whom the real right of property in the
Common is vested. It seems to some, no doubt,
a great waste to withhold so much land from build
ing lots. We cannot say how many speculators
have in their own minds laid out the Common for
houses and shops. But let them despair. The
Common has never been owned by an individual
since Chickataubut, the Indian sachem, ' did give,
grant, sell, alienate and confirm unto the English
settlers all that tract of land known by the name of
Boston.'* From an early period in the history of
, the town the Common was set apart for ' a train
ing field ' and other purposes. By a clause in
the city charter, the government of the city are
* The Indian Quitclainl, 1684-5,
1*

10 BOSTONCOMMON.
prevented from seUing the Common, or Faneuil
HaU. The mention of the sky over the Common
suggests the remark that the azure of the sky in
our latitude at noon, in a northerly direction, of a
clear day, is not surpassed in beauty by that ot
any zone of the heavens. The soft blue of Italian
skies is indeed peculiar, and is not exaggerated by
the many beautiful representations which have
been made of it ; but there is at times a strength
and brilliancy of coloring in the blue of our sky in
a northern aspect, at noon, which is not surpassed
elsewhere. The waters of the lake of Geneva, in
Switzerland, ai-e (not poeticaUy, but UteraUy) very
blue, owing, as Sir Humphrey Davy says, to the
presence of iodine. Our northern sky is for beauty
of coloring what that lake is amongst waters. It
is the Lake Leman of the heavens.
There is much discussion about the compara
tive beauty of Boston Common and the New York
Battery. They are wholly unlike, but each is in
singular accordance with the character of their
respective cities. The Battery, waUed up from
the sea and washed by its waves, and command
ing a sublime view of the bay, is an appropriate
pleasure ground for that great metropolis of this
western world. Soon after seeing the Bay of Na
ples, a visit for the first time to the New York Bat-

NEW YORK BATTERY. 11
tery afforded good opportunity of comparing the
two places. The situation of the Battery and its
sea view give it a striking resemblance to the
ViUa Reale, the public garden on the border of
the Bay of Naples. K we could see the Battery
and the view from it in a foreign land, connected
with a great commercial city, and the classical
associations of the Italian islands could be forgot
ten, many would no doubt be more impressed
by the view from the Battery than by the scenery
at Naples. On the evening of the visit, just men
tioned, to the Battery, it being in the month of
September, the katy-dids were in fuU numbers in
the trees ; then incessant and multitudinous voices
heai-d in connection with the thought of the great
city and on the brink of the ocean, brought to mind
the prophet Nahum's description of ' populous No,
that was situate among the rivers, that had the
waters round about it, whose rampart was the sea,
and her wall was from the sea.'
The Battery, as a piece of ground, is not to be
compared with Boston Common. It has no va
riety of surface. Indeed it is seldom that a piece
of ground is seen which, with no greater extent, is
so diversified in surface and combines so much in
itself that is picturesque, as the Common. There
is hiU and plain, meadow and upland, in it. It
has sufficient irregularity to make a pleasing va
riety of surface without being rough ; its eleva-

12 BOSTONCOMMON.
tions are well sloped towards the plain part of the
enclosure ; indeed it would be difficult for art to
arrange the surface of the Common more agree
ably for pleasing effect or use. The grand feature
of the Battery, its sea view, and the enjoyment of
the cool sea breezes, do not belong to Boston Com
mon. Boston is more like a family than New
York ; it does not belong to aU the world, like her ;
and therefore the inland character of our great
public ground is more in accordance with the
character of Boston, as a city. Cambridge bay
answers some of the purposes of water scenery,
and the occasional sight of a sloop or schooner
there, with its sails looming against the western
hiUs, makes a quiet combination of the sea and
landscape.

The elms and buttonwoods which adorn the
MaU, are among the most interesting of the fea
tures of the Common. The trees on the eastern
side of the Common bear marks of the greatest
age. They undoubtedly belong to the same orig
inal grove with those which are now separated
from them by Park street on one hand and Boyl
ston street on the other. The Park street survivors
look like the older members of the family. Those
on the corner of Boylston street make an extreme
ly beautiful arch over Tremont street. The part

THE LIBERTY TREE. 13
of the city near the Common once abounded in
that noble ornament of American scenery, the elm.
This tree is identified with the history of Boston
and of our revolution. At the corner of Essex
street and Washington street, there was once a
grove of elms, and one of them which grew before
a house opposite Boylston market was the cele
brated Liberty Tree. The spirit of American
Independence first showed itself there. The
' stamp act ' required that every sheet of paper to
be used for any documentary purpose should have
the king's stamp on it, and be subject to a duty of
from half a penny to twenty shillings. The people
rose against what they considered a royal impo
sition and tyranny. Andrew OUver, Esq., the Sec
retary of the province, was distributor of stamps for
Massachusetts. The effigy of Mr. OUver, and a
boot, to represent Lord Bute, the advocate in Par
liament of the stamp act, with Satan looking
from the boot and holding the Act in his hand,
were suspended from the Liberty Tree during
the night of August 13, 1765. This made the
tree and its neighborhood the centi-e of patriotic
assembly. A committee of citizens was appoint
ed, in 1766, to prune the tree, and its name became
a charm to the growing spirit of independence.
In 1775 it was destroyed by the British troops.
This was a powerful testimony to its influence
upon the citizens. It is said to have made four-

14 BOSTONCOMMON.
teen cords of wood. As it feU, it struck a British
soldier and kUled him. This is one of those pro
phetic judicial emblems which it requires but little
superstition to clothe with supernatural importance.
When La Fayette was in Boston, in 1825,
he said : " The world should never forget the spot
where once stood Liberty Tree, so famous in your
annals.' A flag staff, attached to a barber's shop,
is now the only appropriate memorial near the
place where the tree grew. There is now a favor
able opportunity to secure and enclose a piece of
ground on the corner of Essex street, and to mark
the spot forever where American Liberty played
when a child and gathered strength for the deeds
of Lexington and Bunker Hill.
The two old trees in Essex street, below the meet
ing-house, are worthy of our affectionate regards,
as having been near neighbors of the old Liberty
Tree. The trees on the eastern side of the Com
mon are also nearly related to the family of elms
of which the Liberty Tree was so honored a mem
ber. The walk through their ancient shade is not
surpassed in interest by any place of pubUc resort,
it is not too much to say, in this or any land. When
their limbs are bare, a perspective view of them
gives as good a representation of Gothic architec
ture as man ever copied. A traveUer might almost
fancy himself again in York cathedral. It requires
no history to show the most unpractised eye that

THEOLDELM. 15
Gothic architecture was borrowed from such places
as the avenue under those arching elms.
In Addison's walk, at Oxford, Eng., you are
struck with the smooth, portly trees with which the
walk is shaded for a very great distance, their
prebendary, staU-fed look appearing as though they
had never felt the storms of our northern sides.
The elms and buttonwoods on our Common, with
their rough forms and bending posture, perhaps
woidd hardly be admitted ad eundem at Oxford ;
but they are objects of deep interest to us. Many
of the elder trees are stooping, apparently under
the influence of our northern blasts. As they toss
their old forms in a tempest, they remind one of
King Lear upbraiding the heavens for storming on
liis gray head, teUing them, "ye yourselves are
old." These trees are identffied in our thoughts
with the history of our revolution. They witnessed
the siege of Boston ; they heard the strife at Bun
ker HiU ; they saw Charlestown on fire ; they were
silent accompUces at the destruction of the tea;
they knew General Gage; they were older than
General George Washington. Those trees are
conscious of great knowledge ; they look like wit
nesses in capital trials who saw the blood shed,
but have not yet spoken.
The famous old elm near the centre of the Com
mon is said to have been old when it was discov
ered by the first settlers. At least it was growing

16 BOSTONCOMMON.
when they came, and has survived them and the
contemporary trees. That tree is to antiquity with
us what a pyramid is in Egypt. It is like the
pillars of Hercules, bounding the unknown ages
which preceded the arrival of the Pilgrims. The
tree bears marks of decrepitude. An iron clamp
has for some time held one of its principal limbs
to the main ti'unk, but the nails are drawn out by
the increasing incUnation of the Umb to the ground.
A rope in the tops is endeavoring to prolong the
hold of another of the limbs to the tree. A palisade
defends the superannuated monarch from sacri
legious hands. That tree was once a component
part of this great American wilderness, which is
now caUed the new world ; but it is pleasant and
useful to remember that we too Uve in the ' old
world.' It is subUme to think of the grandeur of
these old soUtudes. For centuries the tides had
ebbed and flowed around these solitary shores;
in the gray old rocks upon the coast the sea has
tunneUed its friths and spouting horns as chronicles
of its ancient rage. Many of the islands in the
bay are shorn towards the north and northeast of
a large section of their original extent, and present
•steep sand hiUs in those directions, instead of the
gradual slopes of their other sides. The storms
and the sea were at "work upon them before the
European knew that they were here. The sea'-
sons had changed here since the bow was set in

THE AMERICAN WILDERNESS. 17
the cloud ; blossoms and flowers and fruits had
strew^n the earth yearly with wasted beauty and
riches ; the rivers had run by their wild shores and
under the old stooping willows, expiring silently
in their bays, or in their water-falls. The blue
hiUs, the woody, impenetrable mountains, the snow-
clad pealcs, the embosomed lakes, the prairies, the
verdant, wild savanna, the autumnal forests, inimi
tably grand in their changing foUage, the northern
blast, the southern zephyr,* the beautiful west wind,
and the sea breezes, the hail, the snow storms, the
rain and dew, had all been here since time began.
But who were the primeval inhabitants of this old
world? The bald eagle and the vulture were
here ; as for the stork, the fir trees were her house ;
the huge beasts, whose fossils reveal aUke their
monstrous proportions and the aUuvial processes
of centuries which have covered them, were here ;
the seas and bays were the sporting places of le
viathan and the whale ; the woods were full of
songsters, and the squirrels and, some think, the
bees,* were in this paradise of nuts and flowers.
But who bore the image of God in his upright face
and frame ? In vain do we ask the old PhcEnician
navigator, or inquire at the mysteries of Central
America. Scythia, Egypt, Palestine, Wales, and

* See Irvins's Tour on the Prairies, upon this question.
2

IS BOSTON COMMON.
some say every region under heaven, has been de
clared, in turn, to be the mother of men to this con
tinent. The aborigines came here by 'a path
which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's
eye hath not seen.'
StiU it is but a fancy which represents this con
tinent to have been from the beginning a solitude,
or the habitation of a few scattered tribes of wild
men. Nations may have risen, and perished here,
like ungathered harvests of wild fruits and flowers.
It may be that some Thebes, with its hundred
gates, stood where we now live ; that we are on
the ancient site of a PersepoUs ; that Babylon and
Tyre had their counterparts here; that a Greece
and Rome were the eastern and western lords of
this continent; that some Alexander the Great
wept on this rock-bound coast to find that there
was an ocean to limit his conquests. It may be
that a Julius Csesar pushed his discoveries here
from sea to sea, and, lilce Balaam on the mountains
of Moab, rejoiced at the goodly vaUeys ; or felt as
Csesar did on the coast of Gaul, when he first des
cried the chalk cUffs of Britain. Long before the
Italian or Spanish adventurers numbered this con
tinent with the rest of the earth, myriads of people
may have Hved here and perished in their heathen
ish vices and by the judgments of God. Who
can say what convulsions have rent this continent ?
What are those mounds in our western world?

THEFROGPOND. 19
Was it in Noah's deluge or since that time that the
tops of our highest mountains were scratched by
violent forces drawn over them, with a remarkable
uniformity of direction ? A mighty population
may have been entombed together in a flood which
left its high-water marks on those mountain tops ;
or may have perished by wars and pestUence, till
Nature regained her sway over the habitations and
works of man, and the forest trees crowded up on
every side to stand over his desolate places, and
shed then faUing leaves yearly over a lost race.
But where have we ¦wandered ? The old tree is
Uke that which furnished the Trojan with the
golden branch to open the way before him into
the Shades.
The Common is adorned by a pond of fresh
water, which modern refinement would fain caU
Crescent Pond, but we venture to predict that the
Frog Pond wUl never be thus subHmated out of
its name. It is good to see a thing keep its old,
homely titie in the days of its prosperity and glory,
Brazen Nose CoUege, in England, deserves respect
for keeping its name ; and when one sees on the
great door of the College a brass human nose with
a ring through it for a knocker, it is pleasant to
think how an accidental and familiar titie, playfully
given at first, is now kept with the sacred attach
ment which maturity feels to a relic of its chUd-

20 BOSTONCOMMON.
hood. As to the name of our 'Derwent Water'
on the Common, the boys, who are the male
Nereids of the place, wiU be sure to keep the old
and simple appeUation.
This pond of water has had, and wiU continue
to have, a powerful influence on the rising genera
tions of this city. With the littie chUd, it is the
subject of warning and cautioning from his mother ;
itis his Atiantic, as a place of danger and adventure.
No whaUng voyage is more exciting to a young
crew than the sport which is made by urging the
dogs into it. There are as many clearances and
arrivals of boats, sloops and schooners, from its
rock-bound shores, during the year, as from most
of our sea ports. The merchant does not see his
vessel leave port or enter the harbor with stronger
interest than that with which our young friends
put their craft to sea on that pond, and run to
the opposite shore and await their arrival. There
the germs of mercantUe and marine adventure are
formed in the bosoms of many traffickers and
sailors ; there the navy secures some of its future
recruits ; and the city does weU to keep that nursery
for the ocean in repair. When winter comes, the
pond is the scene of as great interest and excite
ment as in the summer. Its frozen surface is cut
by innumerable skates, so as to leave no trace of
its original smoothness ; or if it does not happen to
freeze weU for skating, or the snow spoUs it for a

THE COMMON AS A PLAY-GROUND. 21
time, a rain or thaw is invoked with fuU as much
desire as the ice merchants deprecate it.
In winter, the hiUs on the Common afford oppor
tunity for that most fascinating sport of ' coasting '
on sleds. It is exciting to watch the crowd of
boys in the heyday of this amusement ; to see their
taste and fancy in the shapes, sizes, colors, and the
names of the sleds, the varied positions of the body,
which youthful ingenuity invents for the greater
pleasure in the slide; .the skiU with which the
swift things are steered over the icy hiUs which
they have fairly glazed ; and to see the boys with
the returning sleds, laboring up the long hUl to
renew the dear-bought pleasure.
Indeed, the Common as a whole is interesting
for its connection with the associations and recol
lections of chUdren in after years. It is worth
untold riches to have a happy chUdhood; the
memory thus becomes a place of springs which
supply freshness to the feeUngs in the latest period
of Ufe. They who make themselves benefactors
to children by multiplying the sources of pleasant
recoUection, show true benevolence of heart, and
embalm their names and memories in the sanc
tuary of many a bosom. It is weU to make vivid
and deep impressions on the minds of young
children. Long before they can read, or reason
correctiy, we can make impressions upon them,
through their various susceptibUities, which will do
2*

22 BOSTONCOMMON.
more than anything else to lay the foundations of
that tasteful and imaginative part of their charac
ters which contributes so much to private and
social happiness. We beUeve that there are few
places whose chUdren remember the scenes of
their home with more varied interest than the chil
dren of Boston. Robert Treat Paine could not
forbear to sing,
" Wiiate'er in life may be my varied lot,
Boston, dear Bostofi, ne'er shall be forgot."
The Common with its malls for hoops, and ball,
and marbles, and wicker carriages, its Frog Pond
for boats and skating, its hUls for coasting, its new
cut grass, its ti'aining days and miUtary parades, and
fireworks, the governor taking his chair at ' artiUery
election,' and aU its varied entertainments, contri
butes as largely as any place can do to the forma
tion of those youthful impressions which make
childhood happy, and the remembrances of it
pleasant. Here we must record our gratitude, not only in
behalf of the chUdren, but of every good citizen,
for the effect which the temperance reformation
has had in making the Common a safe and proper
place for chUdren on public days. We remember
the time when the Common was as dangerous a
place to the morals, not to say the Umbs, of children,
on such days, as the middle of the streets as play-

BOOTHS AROUND THE COMMON. 23
grounds would be to their Uves. Brawls and
fighting were always in the order of exercises for
the afternoon of pubUc days. The cry, ' a fight !
make a ring ! ' and the turning and rushing of
the tide of men and boys to the scenes of combat
in different parts of the Common, were essential
parts of the entertainment on the fourth of July,
and election days. But now, even mothers and
nursery-maids draw their infants in carriages
through the malls on pubUc days. Thus 'the
Uttle chUd plays on the hole of the asp, and the
weaned chUd puts his hand on the cockatrice's
den.' This is one of the many fruits of the tem
perance reformation.
The tents or booths around the Common on
public days, are a study for a moralizer on human
nature. Early in the evening before a hoUday,
the tent keepers may be seen taking possession of
their stands by laying a board or pole against the
curb stone, to show the number of feet which they
severaUy claim and intend to occupy. Many a
dispute arises about precedence of occupation,
possession being in these cases not merely a large
fraction, but the whole, of the law. Some watch
all night to secure their places. It cannot be any
expectation of great receipts that tempts to this
self-denying and laborious emulation ; for the pro
fits on their utmost sales cannot far exceed, in
many cases, the wages of daUy labor. But the

24 BOSTONCOMMON.
pleasure of 'keeping tent' enters largely into the
feeUngs which lead many to spread thek best
white table-cloth, and spend a very long day in
that employment.
Early in the morning, the tables are pUed with
everything to tempt the appetite, and especiaUy to
draw the notice of the young. Then you may see
crowds of young people and others hanging round
the tents regaUng themselves with the sight and
smeU, and some with the taste, of the savory
things. It is a large part of the pleasure of training
day with many of the young, to walk back and
forth before these tents, examine the offered lux
uries, notice the buyer and seUer in their chaffering,
and have the edge of desire sharpened at the sight
of purchases made, and dainties eaten, by others.
Many an urchin is in that crowd with two or three
cents in his pocket, given him expressly to spend.
There is a charm for him in that Uberty to spend.
He walks the whole length of the mall several
times, uncertain upon which of the numerous
objects of desire to bestow his little all. He de
bates with himself as to the greater power of several
particular things to gratify and satisfy him. While
he is in doubt, another boy wiU walk up and spend
at once a sum equal to the whole aUowance of the
other. He imagines how he should feel if he were
left pennUess for the rest of the day, as he would
be by such a purchase. The satisfaction of still

BOYS AND INDIA CRACKERS. 25
possessing his money for a time slakes the desire
to spend it, and he wanders on to renew his obser
vations. A salesman espies his wistful look, and
calls out to him to buy. With a sort of pride and
bashfulness at being thus appealed to, he keeps
on, but here and there ventures to demand the
price of an offered dainty. Then his heart beats
at the thought of being compelled to decide wheth
er to spend a part of his money, or to postpone
his appetite, and, at the same time, to risk an
upbraiding look or word from the disappointed
seUer. The oyster stands are generaUy favorite places
with the boys. The opening of the oysters com
bines the arts of a trade with those of a sale, and
it is very frequentiy the case that a boy leaves at
least one of his cents on the oyster bench. When
India crackers were suffered to be exposed for
sale, the boys would look at them for a long time
before they decided not to spend even their last
cents for them. The tent keeper would Uft a whole
package of them to the wishful eyes of the boys,
for he knew, without reading Horace, that ' dulce
est detrahere acervo,^ it is pleasant to draw from a
heap. The soft thin paper in which they were
wrapped, with its Chinese look and mysterious
letters, the inflammable stems all twisted neatiy
together, the fresh, red color of the Uttle fireworks,
the perpetual sound of their explosion on the maU,

26 BOSTONCOMMON.
and the exulting voices of the boys in their sport
with them, together with the exciting smeU of theur
smoke, aU made as powerful a temptation as the
good sense of a chUd, fortified by parental admoni
tions, could resist. The perpetual noise of these
explosives near the old tree on pubUc days, within
the Umits to which the police confines them, and
the utter ruin of the grass there for a few rods,
looking like a patch of yeUow grain in a green
meadow, are sufficient evidence that human na
ture in the boys of this generation is Uke that of
their predecessors, in its passion for such things.
Many of us look back to our childish days and
ask om-selves, what was the influence of these
training days and tents upon us ? There certainly
was great excitement and pleasure in the enjoy
ment of such things. Many years ago one Sab
bath preceding a fourth of July, however, a min
ister happened to read these words : ' Wherefore
do ye spend money for that which is not bread ? '
This seemed a rebuke of the sacrUegious antici
pations of the coming day, and of a private inten
tion to invest a few cents in the superfluities of
' Independence.' A compromise was attempted
with conscience, by purposing to buy nothing
which could not, by a liberal construction, be
caUed bread; yet, though the variety of fancy
cakes afforded great scope for the elective propen
sity of the appetite, the things prohibited by con-

MILITARY EXHIBITIONS. 27
science seemed sweeter than ever. The Sunday
school celebrations, the pic-nic parties, the floral
processions, and the multiplying devices to enter
tain chUdren on festival days, should be encour
aged. The young must have some means of grat
ifying the feelings which the excitement of those
days occasions. The enthusiasm which leads a
boy to cUmb the Ughtning rod of a meeting house
to ring the beU on the morning of the fourth of July
an hour before the sexton furnishes the key, must
be provided with some safe and innocent method of
expressing itself, and be diverted by the anticipation
and the enjoyment of some real and extraordinary
pleasure. The recollection of boyish days excited a
curiosity, the last fourth of July, to pass by the tents
and booths along the side walk of the Common. It
is to be hoped that what is now said may have no
disastrous effect on the sales at future festivals, but
there was an evident depreciation in the quality
of the things which were exposed. It is true the
inspection was made with no ' young desire' to
feed or to look with partial eye on the dainties,
but it may safely be said that the tents are not so
choice and nice in their articles as in former years.
This may be accounted for in part from the de
preciation in the class of consumers. Thousands
who were once the tasteful and discriminating
customers at these places are now at Sunday
School celebrations, and at other safe and pleasant

28 BOSTONCOMMON.
entertainments on pubUc days. The fact referred
to afforded a degree of satisfaction, viewing it as
proceeding in part from such a cause, though it
would be unkind to Uft a finger in the way of
injuring the business of those who choose to keep
tents. They afford necessary accommodation at
least to those who come from a distance, and while
miUtary parades continue, these accompaniments
will remain.
The Common with its varied surface is ad
mirably fitted for military exhibitions. Human
nature we beUeve will always respond to martial
music, even when Peace reigns on earth. The
love of martial music is not necessarUy connected
with approbation of war, nor does it necessarily
promote a warlike spirit. So long as civil govern
ment exists, the magistrate will bear the sword,
and the accompaniments of it are martial music
and the miUtary parade. We have no sympathy
with the attempts to ridicule miUtary exhibitions.
We may as well ridicule the court house and the
judge ; for there is in the constitution of things a
connection between them. This is no place to
discuss the militia system. We may write and
speak about the horrors of war and the blessings
of peace, and stUl love martial music and the
display of arms. Our turbtdent natures are im
pressed by the proper emblems of power. The

MILITARY EXHIBITIONS. 29
progress of society, the intercourse of nations by
steam power, liberal principles of trade, and self-
interest, will do much to secure the peace of the
world, and standing armies and militia systems
wiU fall to pieces by their own weight ; but so long
as subordination is necessary in human society, we
beUeve that martial sights and sounds will be as
interesting as ever. WUl the time ever arrive
when such a pageant as that of our National
Lancers wUl not be a beautiful and imposing
spectacle ? We w^ould niake no apology for select
ing them from the numerous and beautiful corps
of our soldiery ; they are unique in their character
and appearance. We remember that whenever
the distant bugle announced to the boys on the
Common that the cavalry were coming, it made a
greater sensation, and occasioned a greater rush to
meet them, than the approach of any other corps.
This is owing to the passion which we have for
the horse, and it is not a mere boyish passion.
Some of the greatest men of all professions and
in all ages have had a strong passion for the horse.
Alexander's Bucephalus had a city buUt to his
memory and caUed by his name. The incident in
the Ufe of Edmund Burke, who hung weeping
upon the neck of the horse which belonged to his
deceased son, has moved many a reader to tears.
Aristotle and PUny assert that horses have often
lamented, by unequivocal signs of sorrow, their
3

30 BOSTONCOMMON.
masters slain in battle. Homer has put the fact
into poetry :
' Meanwhile, at distance from the seene ofhiood,
The pensive steeds of peat Achilles stood ;
Tlieir godlike master slain before their eyes
They wept and shared in human miseries.
In vain Automedon now shakes the rein,
Now plies the lash, and soothes and threats in vain.
Nox to the fight nor Hellespont they go.
Restive they stood and obstinate in wo.
 Along their face
The big round drops cours'd down with siletit pace,
Conglobing all the dust.'
In that greatest of all dramatic poems, the Book
of Job, the Almighty is represented as iUustrating
his power to the mind of Job, by describing to him
the war horse.
The Lancers, a company of able-bodied men,
mounted on fine looking horses, each lance bear
ing a red flag, and the mounted musicians adding
not a Uttie to the novelty and Ufe of the moving
show, are a most interesting sight. A knowledge
of the effectiveness of their weapon mingles a Uttie
dread with our feelings of admiration. The lance
rests in a socket on the stirrup. When a charge
is made, the lance, remaining in the socket, is
dropped into a horizontal position, and being so
held, the horse is Urged against the enemy, and
thus the whole power of the animal is thrown into
the lance, which is thereby capable of transfixing
an assailant with irresistible force.

THE NATIONAL LANCERS. 31
As a corps for dispersing mobs, the Lancers are
invaluable ; for they not only do their work effec
tuaUy, but mercifully, and, moreover, in a way alto
gether consistent with the democratic feeUngs of a
mob. For there is some apology with a proud
feUow in moving to get out of the way of a horse,
when it would be inconsistent with his dignity to
obey the order of a mere man, though in military
array. Besides, a mob never know whether car
tridges are blank or with baU, or whether the in
fantry wiU puU the trigger, or wUl dare to force
their bayonets into the body. But they do know
that when a horse Ufts his foot, he must put it
down again, and if they are under it, the horse wiU
not have the deUcacy or reluctance which a soldier
on foot might feel in being rude with an uncle, or
neighbor, or feUow citizen. This affords a mob
an opportunity to yield with a good grace. As a
mob is brute force, the employment of the horse
against it is extrerhely suitable, — a sort of poetical
justice. No better expedient could be adopted to
prevent the shedding of blood in dispersing a mob,
The world regarded the invention of fire-arms as a
merciful provision to lessen the amount of human
suffering in battle. We look upon the Lancers as
the perfection of civU and miUtary power in queU-
ing riots without the loss of Ufe. One of the most
instructive and interesting Ulustrations of the influ
ence of repubUcanism in humanizing and softening

32 BOSTONCOMMON.
the exercise of mifitary power when employed in
the support of law, was given by a committee of
the Lancers in connection with the mob in Bow
doin square, in January, 1842. They pubUshed a
card in the papers of this city, soon after the sup
pression of the riot, of which the following is an
extract : " Armory of the National Lancers, )
" Boston, Janiiar-y "Uth, 1842. J
" It is with regret the corps of National Lancers feel constrained to
present themselves before the public vrith'an appeal. But justice to
themselves as a portion of the legally organized militia of the Com
monwealth, seems to dictate this step, when individual members of
the association are taunted at the Corners of the streets, assailed in
every section of the city with epithets wholly at variance, as they con
ceive, with their deserts, under the circumstances which have recent
ly brought the company in unpleasant and undesired contact with a
portion of their fellow citizens."
Then foUows the precept of the Mayor by which
the corps was summoned to aid in suppressing the
aforesaid mob. The committee then proceed :
" The National Lancers were organized in the autumn of 1836. In
June, '37, it was their unpleasant and unsought task, with other of the
city soldiery, to take part in an aggravated case of riot, for which they
had the special thanks of the executive authorities, both state and city.
In various instances since, almost yearly, the Lancers have, In/ order,
found themselves in the front rank of guard duty ; exposed to the in
sults and indignities of truant boys and mischievous men, who always
abound at military parades and processions. No one, we beheve,
among the reflecting portion of our fellow citizens, will presume that
we covet and glory in thepa.stime of feeing gratuitously assailed with
stones, hisses, and mother earth.' On the contrary, we would much
prefer a ' calm retiracy.' There would be vastly more amusement
in facing an armed foe, than in treading upon the toes of our neighbors
and personal friends ; and on the whole we would quite as lief our
worthy Mayor that is, or may be, would fairly divide the honors of
this sort of warfare amongst the numerous excellent and well-disci
plined corps of artillery, infantry and riflemen, for which our city has
so long been proudly celebrated."

THE NATIONAL LANCERS. 33
The committee conclude with these words :
" If any individual was inadvertently or otherwise injured in his
proper person, we sincerely deplore the event, and we beg him to ex
ercise the charity of a good citizen, and adjudge us not guilty of a
wilful desire to do him harm. In conclusion, we trust that the people
of Boston, under a calm review of the circumstances, will accord to
us the disposition and aim rather to deserve their good vrill and friend
ship, than to incur their enmity. With these sentiments the National
Lancers, by their committee, beg leave respectfully to subscribe
themselves the public's fellow citizens and servants."
On reading the foregoing Unes, we could not
resist the desire that some of the crowned heads of
Europe might be acquainted with this incident of
republican simpUcity and kindness. They would
no doubt smile at the thought of a mUitary corps
apologizing to their feUow citizens of a mob for
the necessity which was laid upon the soldiers of
dispersing them ; but let them smile. If they can
queU riots more effectuaUy and humanely, and
make a mob feel so weU satisfied with their treat
ment, we should be glad to know it ; but we doubt
the fact. We do most earnestiy hope that the law
which makes it penal to resist a constable in the
execution of his duty, will, if necessary, be amend
ed, or accompanied by another, so as to make an
indignity offered to a Lancer in the discharge of
his duty a misdemeanor that shall be severely pun
ished. We trust that the corps will be sustained,
and flourish, not only as an ornament to our city
and Common, but as an admirable means of de
fence and of executive strength.
3*

34 BOSTONCOMMON.
Interesting recoUections are revived in many of
us in thinking of the passion in our youthful days
for juvenUe miUtary companies. We often meet
with these mimic exhibitions in the neighboring
towns, and but seldom of late in the city. They
are in the same style as that in which we used to
enjoy them ; a few striplings in regimentals, and
troops of young spectators; the Uttie drummer
attracting still the most attention, and the ' 'hind
officer,' as we used to caU him, subject, as of old,
to the roguish tricks of his playmates. Some of
the intensest feeUngs of liulnan nature were called
forth in childhood by these parades. An order
was issued to om- ' JuvenUe ArtiUery,' commanded
by one who is now a minister of the gospel, and
for whom we have ever felt great deference from
having served under him, to appear with blue
nankin jackets and white pantaloons. The family
had no peace tiU this miUtary dress was provided ;
but the notice was so short that the taUoress could
not insert a single pocket. This essential part of
a boy's dress, however, was cheerfuUy dispensed
with, and being accoutred an hour before the time
of parade, we salUed up sti-eet with the assessment
of a four-pence-ha'penny in hand to pay for the
cartridges of our littie field-piece. In the course
of an hour or two, the money began to be a heavy
burden. There was no pocket to keep it in ; the
orderly sergeant might forget it if it was paid in

THE INDIANS ON THE COMMON. 35
the morning ; there was a want of confidence in
intrusting it to any member of the corps ; if it was
lodged in the sword-sheath it might by accident
roU out; and so we paraded aU day with that
assessment in the left hand. The perspiration,
and pain, and numbness of the hand in turn
were all endured for the sake of the proud satis
faction of paying the assessment as promptly as
the rich boys, some of whom we thought were
purse proud, and would triumph, as we supposed,
over a poorer boy who was their rival in some
other things, if his assessment should fail to be
forthcoming. When the officer called the roU for
the money, there was that same pride in stepping
forth from the ranks with it w^hich human nature
in men and women always feels in keeping up a
good appearance. But these digressions show how
the Common interweaves itself with the associa
tions of chUdhood, and with our future character
and feeUngs.
One of the most interesting exhibitions that ever
took place on the Common was that of the Indians
of the Sacs and Fox, the Sioux and Iowa tribes,
who visited us in the faU of 1837. They held a
war dance on the Common in the presence of
seventy thousand spectators. Their dresses of the
skins of wild animals, with the horns upon them,
their weapons decorated with every thing in savage
use that could make a clatter and a frightful show,

36 BOSTONCOMMON.
their hideous and grotesque manoeuvres, their wUd
onsets, their uncouth motions in the dance, and
their unearthly yeU, made them a most impressive
spectacle. If Dante had seen it before he wrote
his ' Inferno,' he would have borrowed some images
from it. When the Indians rode off in the open
barouches, one of them, more hideous and com
manding in his appearance than the rest, sitting
erect and holding out his war weapon, brought to
mind the scene in the Apocalypse where the ' Old
Dragon ' is talien prisoner and conveyed to his pit.
But these Indians are immortal creatures Uke us,
and they are as susceptible in their future being to
joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, as we. The
selfishness and avarice of civilized man has, to a
great extent, prevented or embarrassed the efforts
which, if put forth with the original spirit and feel
ings of our first settlers towards the Indians, might
have made the whole wilderness what Elliot made
Nonantum and Natick. Much has nevertheless
been done, and the practicabUity of civiUzing the
savage has been demonstrated.
It was rumored several months ago that a coun
cil of aU the Indian tribes was summoned for hos
tUe purposes against the United States. The array
of their names, and a knowledge of their power to
afflict our borders, and the thought of the provoca
tions which they have received, made us rejoice to
hear that the rumor was without foundation. But

THE INDIANS ON THE COMMON. 37
it made us think of our exposure to their vengeance.
Their gathering together against us would be a
theme worthy of the imagination of Isaiah.
We shall never forget that briUiant October
afternoon (it was Indian summer) when the depu
tation from the tribes of the western American
wilderness appeared on the Common, and per
formed their savage feats. The autumnal season
of the year was in accordance with ' the sere and
yellow leaf of their probable condition as a race.
A remark made by one of them in his reply to the
Governor's address in the representatives' chamber
on the forenoon of that day, gave us an idea of
their consciousness of superiority to us. ' We are
glad,' he said, ' that you have got this island, and
we hope you are contented with it.' Our penin
sula, with its barriers of the sea, gave him a feel
ing of imprisonment, and he was glad if we were
willing and happy to live in so confined a territory.
Let us hope that blessings wiU flow forth to him
or his posterity from ' this island.' We trust that
our feeUngs of sadness at their apparent destiny
may prove to be as much without foundation as
were the fears of one of the Sacs at seeing a man
ascend in a ballon when they were landing at New
York. His remark was : ' They wUl never see the
smoke of his wigwam any more.'

38 BOSTONCOMMON.
The environs of the Common are amongst the
most beautiful parts of the city. Some of the dWel-
Ungs on each of the four sides of the Common
combine as much of convenience and comfort as
can be desired. The view from the dweUings in
Park street is highly picturesque. Some features
in the architecture of the Temple are good ; and
an imperfect view of the building through the trees,
has a pleasing effect. The chaste, quiet, Ionic air
of St. Paul's Church is not a Uttie increased by the
unmolested appropriation which the doves seem to
have made of the cornice over the pUlars. Beacon
street is the proverbial name for princely wealth.
The dweUings in that street are objects of admira
tion with the multitude, as weU as of thoughtful
contemplation with those who consider the wisdom
and the good effects of the unequal distribution of
property. WhUe there are those who by their chris
tian virtues remind us of their Master whom they
strive to imitate, there are rich men whose, acts of
generosity amongst the poor and towards some
who have seen better days remind us of the good
ness of God to his creatures. Some private and
hidden acts of kindness on the part of the rich in
this city, in all reUgious denominations, towards
worthy objects of charity, are among the most af
fecting instances of noble and generous conduct.
A case of real distress or of meritorious want no-

ENVIRONS OF THE COMMON. 39
where meets with more immediate and liberal sup
ply than here. The abiUty to confer happiness in
these ways, rather than any other motive, should
make us prize great possessions ; whUe the thought
that happiness does not depend upon the gifts of
fortune, ought to make us contented with a con
trary lot. The most costiy dwelUng in Beacon
street coidd no doubt be deprived of a large part
of its comfort with some persons of irritable nerves
by so small a thing as the noise which the labor
ers make in beating carpets too near that street;
and in the midst of the most splendid opulence,
there can be sources of private sorrow and disap
pointment, that would make a rich man almost
glad to change places in Ufe with many of the poor
but cheerful and joyous ones who look upon those
dweUings as Uttie less than heaven upon earth.
One of the most interesting features in the envi
rons of the Common is the State House and Park
street Church. They stand together Uke the law
giver and the priest of ancient Israel ; — they are
our Moses and Aaron, watching over the puritan
metropolis. Every one with true puritan blood in
his veins will be glad to know that the steeple has
the ascendency over the dome by about ten feet ;
a just emblem ofthe sUent ascendency of moral and
reUgious influence amongst us over law and force.
It is good to forget reUgious preferences and
associations in judging of things which concern

40 BOSTONCOMMON.
the credit of the city. It is interesting to us as cit
izens to think that probably no reUgious stiructure
in this or any land wUl have been more intimately
connected with the spread of Christianity, civUiza
tion, and letters through the world, than Park stireet
meeting-house. If we think of the anniversaries
of reUgious and benevolent associations, and meet
ings for missionary purposes, which have been
held there for many years, we shaU find it difficult
to call to mind another place in which benevolent
feeUngs and actions have derived more encourage
ment and impulse. It is generaUy known that the
denomination with which this meeting house is
connected hold a missionary meeting there on the
first Monday evening of each month, when infor
mation received from missionary stations is read.
Languages reduced to writing, enUghtened legis
lation successfuUy attempted by hitherto barbarous
tribes, the completed translation of the scriptures
into various languages of the earth, are subjects of
communication which have an interest for every
philanthropist and scholar. It may be supposed
that no sounds mingle with the breezes of the
Common and float among its trees which are more
pleasant to those who resort to that meeting than
the notes of that musical beU inviting them to
prayer and effort for the ameUoration of the un-
evangelized world.
There is another steeple in sight of the Common

HOLLIS STREET STEEPLE. 41
which deserves notice for an incident in its his
tory. The spire of HolUs-street meeting-house was
struck by Ughtning AprU 8, 1837, and partly con
sumed. Before it was repaired, it was struck the
second time. May Sth, of the same year. The first
time that it took fire it presented a sublime and
affecting spectacle. A thin cloud of smoke, like
that made by the sand which an aeronaut throws
from his baUoon in the air, was seen issuing from
beneath the ball under the vane. The smoke con
tinued to pour from the same spot so long that no
doubt remained respecting the progress of the hid
den fire. There stood the noble object, a temple
of the Most High, burning from its summit down
ward, with a fire Idndled by no human hand.
From the dweUings and from every part of the city
within sight of the steeple, the eyes of the citizens
were sUentiy and anxiously watching for the result
The steeple was like some noble victim of a calam
ity which is too sublime for pity, while the sufferer,
with unffinching courage blended with a meek sub
mission to his fate, excites the respect and love more
than the commiseration of men. The bright vane,
brighter by the contrast of the dark thunder cloud,
stood southwest, and performed its duty up to the
very moment of its faU. It was a beautiful em
blem of constancy under adverse fortune, of stead
fast adherence to duty without regard to threaten
ing iU ; and perhaps the more beautiful from the
4

42 BOSTONCOMMON.
constitutionally changefrd nature of the object ; for
it was only a 'weathercock,' and some wiU say
that the wind was the whole cause of its steadfast
ness. Let us not scrutinize secret motives too
much, but give credit for good conduct whenever
we find it. We are aU, more or less, weathercocks,
creatures of circumstances ; and winds give us our
direction ; but it is not every one of us that can be
firm and patient with the wind in his face, and fire
under his feet, Uke that vane.
There are natures, formed to love, which yield
easUy, Uke the vane, to every strong or sudden in
fluence, and so are counted light and fickle. But
let their affections once be controUed by a recipro
cal love to which they also yield respect, and those
natures, once so changeful, show a steadfastness
and earnestness of attachment, which is increased
by adversity, and in death. Perhaps it is not
seemly that there should be any association in our
minds between the faithfulness of a vane, and wo
man's love ; but the sight of that vane, just men
tioned, itself constant in tiibulation to the power
for whose influences it was ordained, could suggest
no images except of things the most beautiful and
honorable. The unfaltering steadfastness of the
vane up to the very moment of its fall, gives us a
sort of confidence and pleasure to this day in look
ing to it for its official information.
The iron fence and brick side-walk which sur-

THEIRONFENCE. 43
round the Common are noble monuments of pub
Uc enterprise and of the energy of American me
chanics. The burial-ground formerly reached to
the southern Une of the Common. It was resolved
to continue the maU through the burial-ground,
but it was foreseen that, in doing it, pubUc accom
modation would interfere with the private and
sacred attachment of individuals to their ancestral
tombs. The history of the tact and skUl with
which this difficulty was met and removed has
never come abroad, but we beUeve that it is highly
creditable to aU concerned. The maU was con
tinued through the burial-ground to make the entire
circuit of the Common. A slight and graceful
iron fence was thrown around the tombs, and a
rich and durable fence of the same material, with
a brick walk outside, surrounding the whole Com
mon, a circumference of five thousand eight hun
dred and sixty-seven feet,* was begun and com
pleted within six months. It gives one a feeling
of energy and of just pride to think of such enter
prise. The cost of the whole work was ninety
thousand doUars, including the iron fence around
the burial-place ; and of this sum, seventeen thou
sand doUars were furnished by private subscrip
tion. The separate cost of the fence around the
Common was eighty-two thousand five hundred

* Five thousand two hundred and eighty feet are one mile. The whole
circumference is therefore one mile and one-ninth, wanting three feet.

44 BOSTON COMMON.
doUars. Cicero was not backward to remind the
Roman senate and people of the pubUc works
which were done, ' me consuls,^ when I was consul.
The government of the city, by whose spirit and
energy this noble work was achieved, have no
need to praise themselves. They have erected a
monument which, in more senses than that in which
the Latin poet intended the expression, is ' more
durable than brass.'
The brick side- walk around the Common is at
present a more fashionable promenade than the
beautiful mall with its arched avenue of trees. In
the propensity of cultivated and fashionable life in
our republican country to separate itself from the
common and plebeian world, it is interesting to
notice a different method of effecting its object from
that in which an established nobiUty separates itself
from the people. Nobility has its parks and ter
raced walks from which the pubUc and cattle are
excluded ; but in this country the common people
are peers of the realm, and the genteel, in order to
maintain a separateness in then- unavoidable union
with them in certain enjoyments, give an artificial
vogue to a place or thing which is obviously infe
rior to a thing of the same kind which the common
people enjoy. This is probably the reason for the
fact, which it is true we have no court calendar
to confirm, but which is sufficiently obvious, that it
is considered more genteel to promenade on the

BOSTONNOTIONS. 45
brick side-waUc, outside of the Common, than in
the maU. An instance of the same thing was a
practice among the young men of the ton, some
time since, of wearing coarse and awkward straw
hats, rough Petersham ' Tom and Jerry ' coats, and
poor looking sticks. They were sure not to be
imitated in these things by the poorer and aspiring
class ; for we are confident that a costume which
we have seen upon the sons of some of our richest
men would not be worn by other young men even
in a fishing party, if they were obliged to walk
through the streets in it. We believe that this
practice owed a Uttie of its vogue to Mr. BtUwer
and his ' Pelham,' but it had a deeper root than the
mere admiration of the hero of a popular novel.
We cannot say that we disUlted the fashion. It
had a comfortable air of independence; it was
more becoming to youthful beauty than finical
luceties of dress ; and if the sons of the rich must
distinguish themselves from others by their per
sonal appearance, it is better that they shoidd de
fend themselves from imitation by this means, than
by luxurious and extravagant apparel. The long
hair which is affected by some of the young men,
seems intended to distinguish themselves from
their own sex, rather than from those of a different
rank in life ; and, in some instances, success ap
proximates perfection. But we do them injustice
if we suppose that this effeminacy necessarily
4*

46 BOSTONCOMMON.
extends to their characters. In times of popular
excitement they can show themselves men. The
drawing-rooms and saloons of Europe have fur
nished the tented field with companies of the most
hardy and vaUant soldiers, in times of sudden inva
sion. We are in hopes that ere long we shall see the
Common beautified with artificial fountains. But
we must wait for that lingering project of supply
ing the city with pure water ! If the sentiment
should prevaU that fountains of salt water would
be classical, or if their waste waters were so de
sirable in large, central reservoirs, in case of fires,
that the passage of the water through fountains
on the Common might be considered merely as a
secondary thing, and thus the furnishing the fire
department with the waters of the back bay should
be projected, we might, it is true, soon have play
ing fountains on the Common. As you approach
Holland from the sea, you are struck with the
multitude of wind-mUls, far and near, employed
in keeping the country from inundation. The
wind-mUls on the baths at the Western Avenue
are industriously pumping water for useful pur
poses; and if a distributing reservoir should be
raised in that neighborhood, no doubt the wind
would be happy to fiU it, and introduce its old
relative and aUy, the water, to our respectful atten
tions on the Common. K strangers shotdd re-

FOUNTAINS ON THE COMMON. 47
mark upon om- salt water fountains, we could
indeed say with truth, that the water was needed
in the centre of the city for the fire depai-tment,
and that we just suffered it to gambol a Uttie in
the Common on its way to the reservoir. It is
well to agitate this subject frequentiy; and even
the suggestion of impracticable or undesirable
schemes may excite desire for the object in view.
This suggestion of salt water fountains is an U-
lustration of the desire which is felt in the city to
enjoy the luxury of pubUc fountains. Another
illustration of the same land is a recent proposi
tion to conduct the rain water from the dome of
the state-house into a central reservoir for the fire
department, and to make the water show itself, on
its way through the Common, in jets and foun
tains. The good taste of Boston will never be
satisfied with any of these substitutes for fountains
of the pmre element. Nymphs of HeUcon and
Arethusa ! shaU the Athens of America treat you
to salt water and second-hand rain ? Be not dis
pleased; we hint at these schemes for the same
purpose that our Solons sometimes move, on
the spot, a reconsideration of their own votes, — to
prevent their being reconsidered. Those wind-
miUs just mentioned would be too obviously of
the 'Dutch school' of art for our purpose, espe
cially as our New Amsterdam, with its Croton-
water fountains, has attained to the true ItaUan
models.

48 BOSTONCOMMON.
Fountains on the Common would contiribute
greatiy to the happiness of the people, — to theUf
health of body and mind. Individuals of a mel
ancholy disposition, occasioned by sedentary em-'
ployments, would do weU to spend more time on
the Common, and especiaUy to waUc often by the
Frog Pond, and watch the boys and chUdren at
their sport Many a troubled mind, which neither
the physician nor the clergyman can comfort,
would also be soothed by lingering around a
playing fountain, and seeing its vigorous, graceful
stream mounting into the air, waving in the wind,
and falUng back into its bed. One may even be
reUeved of nervous headache by seeing the la
borers on the Common, in the spring, combing
the grass with their rakes to prepare it for the
early rains. This specffic, like the once celebrated
' metaUic tractors,' ' if it does no good, wUl cer
tainly do no harm.' We long to see those foun
tains at play. We are a practical, utilitarian sort
of people, and any project which does not promise
a dividend in doUars we are slow to favor.
Who doubts the good influence of our annual
exhibition of fire-works ? They withdraw multi
tudes from places of dissipation and riotous
amusement. They keep children under the eye
of their parents during an evening when they
would be exposed to great temptations. They
give actual pleasure by their intrinsic beauty. It
has a good moral effect, to assemble the whole

FOUNTAINS ON THE COMMON. 49
population to an innocent entertainment ; it makes
men respect themselves and others, to see a great
multitude in the rational enjoyment of a pleasing
spectacle ; and their quiet and orderly separation
is itself an exhibition which, to a reflecting mind,
is no smaU part of the pleasure of such occasions.
Now, the sight of playing fountains on the Com
mon, and of multitudes participating in the enjoy
ment of them, wiU both leave a soothing and
refreshing influence, and stir the social, kind feel
ings of the people. There are already some so
cial quaUties in the character of this city, w^hich
give it a decided superiority above every large
city in the land. We are not clannish; nor are
we individuaUzed by too great numbers and ter
ritory ; we are more Uke a family than most other
large cities; aristocracy here is unusually demo
cratic in its sympathies, and our democracy, except
in high political excitements, appreciates and loves
the refining and elevating influence of an aristoc
racy made by success in honorable pm-suits, or
showing no heraldry but that which is associated
in the minds of the people themselves with revered
and consecrated names. Gentlemen of fortune,
who are disposed to aid in pubUc works for the
gratification of the people, could not expend then-
contributions where their kindness and taste wotdd
be better appreciated, or give a greater amount of
real pleasure.

50 BOSTONCOMMON.
As a traveUer passes from one district of the
earth to another, he does not meet with a more in
teresting manifestation of the Creator's evident
love of beauty for its own sake, than in the varied
forms in which he sees the element of water. At
one time it is in the form of Ocean, its soUtudes,
around and beneath, its storms, its peaceful sleep,
its varied motion, its dying waves along the sound
ing shores. Then it appears in the form of lakes
embosomed in the mountains, in every form of
romantic beauty. Now it is in the shape of the
cataract ; it leaps and plays in the cascade ; it faUs
from a mountain's top and over its perpendicular
side, and midway it is disheveUed, and perishes in
the air in a cloud of mist We repeat it, we long
to see the Common furnished with such beautiful
exhibitions of this element as we know the wealth
and taste of Boston can produce. We love to
think of the interest and excitement which wiU
be felt yearly on the appointed day in spring,
when the water is to be let into the fountains on
the Common; and of the gentle sadness at the
shutting off of the water, as the frost approaches.
If we were writing in old Rome, with its- tutelar
deities, we would call upon the god Neptune, the
Tritons, and upon sea-born Venus, and stir up
their jealousy at the fact that the gods of fire have
usurped the admiration of our people at their great
national festival.

TOO MANY TREES. 51
The mention of public exhibitions on the Com
mon brings to mind a subject to which it is not
altogether pleasant to aUude, and yet it is a source
of serious apprehension. The centre of the Com
mon is obstructed by rows of young but thrifty
and fast increasing trees. They were planted
along the principal paths, for the benevolent pur
pose of affording shade to those who cross the
Common. Their usefulness even in this respect
is doubtful, and there is more than a doubt res
pecting their good influence upon the Common
as a pubUc ground. Our summers are so short,
the air of the Common is generaUy so cool or in
such good circtdation, that the use of shaded
walks through its centre is very small compared
with the desirableness of having one large open
place, as the Common has always been, in a
crowded city. We do not need the whole Com
mon as a mere parasol; its wide and free grounds
and prospect are its chief beauty, and the shaded
maUs are sufficient as places of resort from the
heat There is something repugnant in the figure
which represents a common, or parks, as the
Iwngs of a city ; but it wUl at least be congru
ous (if this be any apology) with that figure, to
say, that every superfluous tree in the centire of
the Common is a tubercle. There wUl soon be
an end to great pubUc exhibitions on the Com
mon, if the trees now in the centire should thrive.

52 BOSTONCOMMON.
But who would recommend the sacrUegious act
of desti-oying them ? They were planted at much
expense, and with praiseworthy labor and sldU.
Orpheus, with his lyre, charming woods and rocks
to foUow him, would make his fortune as a practi
cal mechanic, if he Uved in this age. We should
like to see him passing through those avenues of
young elms, and quietiy leading them off to grow
elsewhere. On the side of the Common towards Beacon
street, and nearly opposite Belknap street, there is
a gingko tree enclosed by a sUght paling. This
species of tree is common in Japan. When the
grounds of the late Gardiner Greene, on Pember
ton hUl, were opened for the buUdings which now
cover them, this tree was removed from his garden,
and was planted on the Common. It lives and
thrives, while the family in whose ancient enclo
sure it once grew, has shared the common destiny
of famiUes in this land. That feature of monar
chical institutions, — the law of primogeniture,
with its hereditary name and undivided fortune, is
favorable to the highest advancement of those arts
which require large expenditures and are most
Ukely to be fostered by private patronage. The
descent, by the law of the realm, of a princely for
tune without division, to the eldest son, is produc
tive of splendid works of taste, and is the means of
preserving castles, and forests, and beautiful ruins.

THEGINGKOTREE. 53
from age to age. This advantage, with aU of the
same nature which proceed from monarchy and a
peerage, we trust our people wiU ever be wiUing
to forego rather than pay the price of them in the
loss of repubUcan institutions. We must submit
to some sacrifice of gratified taste for the sake of
the privUeges which the old worid would gladly
buy with aU its ancient monuments. But we
cannot repress a degree of sadness at the disper
sion and loss of venerated names, and mansions,
and old homesteads. The gingko tree has left
the famUy enclosure and grows on the Common.
We perceive in this fact a correspondence with
that law of repubUcanism which scatters the
names and the wealth of rich men into the great
community ; or, if they are preserved for a whde,
allows their continuance and concedes to them a
voluntary regard, as the gingko tree, in its careful
preservation, is permitted to hold an honorable
place amongst the public trees. This particular
tree is the object of an interest in which a degree
of sadness mingles with respect, at the thought of
the changes which time makes in the famUies of
the earth.

Though the Common is the occasion of much
expense to the city, we beUeve that it is one of the
last things for which the people wUl complain that
5

54 BOSTONCOMMON.
money is expended. One of the next improve
ments in the Common we suspect wiU be a suit
able supply of proper seats in the mall. As a de
fence against our American propensity to whittie,
the city government caused some of the wooden
seats to be sheathed with sheet iron. Vain de
fence against the knife of an American whittier I
One of the seats, at least, has been partly bared,
and the exquisite pleasure of cutting a bench has
been heightened there on the principle that stolen
waters are sweet The city government thought
that they would " try what virtue there is in stones."
Blocks of granite have been deposited there for
seats. The knife no doubt burns in many a loun
ger's pocket. The stone seats Eire smooth only on
the upper side, and their rough look is not strictiy
in Boston taste, though it is excusable, considering
the penitentiary object which led to their substitu
tion for wooden seats. If a small hammer could
be chained to each stone, perhaps some who oc
cupy the seat would be glad to pick a littie, instead
of whittUng, and thus the expense of facing the
stones could be saved. The idea of sitting on a
natural, rough rock, to enjoy the beauties of na
ture, is poetical and in good keeping, but we have
tried in vain to make those stone seats on the mall
seem poetical. We have imagined two Arcadian
swains enjoying the comfort which they afford, and
saying one to another,
" O Meliboee ! deus nobis hiec otia fecit ! "

cows ON THE COMMON. 55
But the verse did not seem as appropriate as it
does in its original place, and it wiU be useless to
translate it

Since the day when Elder OUver's horse had
the exclusive right of pasturage on the Common
voted to him by the town, * there has been vari
ous legislation on the subject of admitting the
cows to feed there. The gradual and now entire
disappearance of the cow from our streets is a
sure sign of the triumph of artificial Ufe over primi
tive manners. The rich grass on the Common
sometimes makes us wish that the cows could, by
some Egyptian-Uke observance, not to say super
stition, be allowed a holyday there once a year. It
would be a feast to see them eat. The discovery
of the vaccine virus ought to be celebrated, and
the cow rewarded as a benefactress, by giving
her an annual admission to the Common. But in
vain do we expect to urge such an observance in
Boston. ' RepubUcs are ungrateful,' and ' corpo
rations have no souls.' The cows wiU probably
never crop that rich grass any more ! The gal-
lanti-y of the city alone, we suspect, wiU forbid it.
The fear of the cow which prevaUs among the fak
in cities and large towns, is one of the elegances
of cultivated Ufe, and a weU-sustained betrayal of

* See page 7.

56 BOSTONCOMMON.
it is extremely interesting, and a great accompUsh
ment Governor Hancock once entertained the officers
of the French fleet at breakfast, at his mansion
house. Without leave or Ucense, he sent his ser
vants to mUk the cows on the Common. The
same genius which led him to write John Hancock
in those bold letters at the head of the Declaration
of Independence, prompted him, in an emergency,
to place a bold reUance on the patriotism of his
feUow citizens who owned the cows. If his feUow
citizens could throw the tea overboard in resist
ance to tyranny, would they not also forego milk
and cream for the feUow soldiers of La Fayette ?
Many of the present citizens of Boston retain a
distinct impression of the open grounds and the
old buUdings which once surrounded the Com
mon ; but in a few years, very few will know, for
example, that the Washington Gardens once flour
ished where the Temple and some of the contigu
ous buUdings now stand, or have any knowledge
of the old rope-walks at the foot of the Common,
and the frequent and splendid fires which they af
forded. The Botanic Garden has made advances
upon the waste land, and if encouraged, wUl be a
highly ornamental addition to the beauties and
pleasures of the Common. The two raU roads
seen from the high ground near the State House,

BURIAL PLACES IN THE CITY. 57
bring to mind the connection which this city has
already formed and is extending with our own
country and the world. We think it is an unpreju
diced and impartial judgment that no city in the
world combines more advantages for rational en
joyment than Boston. Were we not confined at
present by the charmed circle of the Common to
the objects iramediately in sight of it, we should
love to speak of the unsurpassed beauties of the
environs of this city, their romantic walks and
drives, their waters, and green lanes, and prospects,
which royalty itself might envy.
The burying-places in the vicinity of the Com
mon, with that in its southern border, are fast be
coming desolate places in appearance by the
rapid growth of -wild bushes and rank grass
amongst the headstones. The sumac, and larch,
and willow, and elm sapUngs, and running
vines, are tangUng the granary burying-ground in
beautiful confusion. It is good taste to let it be
so, and we thank those who suffer this wUd pall
of nature to rest upon those graves. If interments
must continue to be made in the city, let the places
of burial be veUed as much as possible with spon
taneous verdure ; it is due to the feeUngs of those
who live in a city that the exposed places of the
dead should be divested of their hideous appear
ance. The famUy tombs in these burial places in
5*

58 BOSTONCOMMON.
the city, it is to be hoped, will continue long after
time has dispossessed them of any claims upon a
surviving relative or descendant for protection.
But the tendency of the public taste is evidentiy
towards such places as Mount Auburn. Yet there
is something pleasant in the thought of being
interred in a city. We cannot help associating the
dead who Ue in the burial-place on the Common
with the exciting and joyous events which take
place around their graves. It seems as though
they were witnesses of things which interest the
world about them, while they are free from any
share in human labors and soitows. Their quiet
resting places, responsive to no sights or sounds,
are in impressive contrast with the midtitudes who
throng the Common on pubUc days, and pour
along the malls on Sabbath evenings, in busy con
versation about their plans and sorrows and joys.
As it quiets a fearful chUd in bed to hear the
noises of the household, so we seem to fancy that
it is a reUef to the sleepers in those graves to have
those busy multitudes around them.
Sometimes the thought comes over the mind of
one who looks upon that burying-place, that when
he may be sleeping there, or elsewhere near his
present home, the city will be the same crowded,
busy place as now; the incessant noise of the
streets wiU be as great ; happy faces, as they pass
by, wUl glance towards his burial place; and

THOUGHTS IN A CROWD. 59
the momentary thought of death, such a reaUty
to him, wiU be to them no more than the shadow
of a Ught cloud flying across the grain. Every
thing wdl proceed as though he had never been,
or died ; his place wdl be filled by another, and
he wdl have become in human affairs like a drop
of rain which has faUen into the sea. Not so with
his spirit, however, if he shaU have fuffiUed the
design of his sojourn in this world.
After seeing the palaces in London, and Wind
sor, Warwick and Kenilworth castles, and passing
through Westminster Abbey, and beholding the
tombs of kings and queens and nobles, it is in
teresting and instructive to pause in that abbey
before the bust of Isaac Watts, as he looks out
from his marble effigy upon his noble peers in that
commonwealth of death, and fancy him repeating
those Unes from one of his weU-known hymns :
' Princes 1 this clay must be your bed
In spite of all your towers ;
The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
Must lie as low as ours.'
The feeUng which Xerxes had as he looked
upon his hosts, that in a few years they would all
be with the dead, was not a mere weakness, nor
the offspring of sickened ambition; it was a
thought which, we venture to say, steals over the
minds of many as they look upon the crowds on

60 BOSTONCOMMON.
the Common at pubUc exhibitions. Whitefield
preached there to twenty thousand people. He
and they are now as conscious and active some
where as ever. Multitudes have for years passed
away from that beautiful enclosure, to join the
greater congregation of the dead. If there is any
sight which can stimulate a benevolent mind to
increased activity in doing good to our feUow
men, it is the sight of a great multitude, and the
thought that we are passing together into scenes
where to have been good and to have done good
here, will be a source of satisfaction and the
ground of everlasting reward.
We may look with interest to the burying-place
on the Common in view of the scenes which wdl
be witnessed there at the last day, in termination of
all the varied scenes which wiU probably occupy
successive generations in that beautiful spot We
have there enjoyed the sight of vast crowds show
ing their sea of faces in the light of those artificial
meteors as they dissolved into variegated forms of
fire ; we have seen the aeronaut suspended in mid
heaven, and graduaUy disappearing, tUl at last only
a strained and steady look could find him; our
eyes have gazed there on the white clouds which
seem as though they had done their work, and
fold themselves on the heavens, their slow and
graceful motion contributing to om: impressions of
their rest and peace. We have watched the snow

LAST SCENE ON THE COMMON. 61
Storm, beautiful in its wrath, sweeping from those
heavens, and the northern Ughts flashing up to
then: zenith. But what are these to the sight
which is to be revealed there at the coming of
Christ to judgment ! It is interesting to think of
the last day, apart from its reUgious events, as a
time of unutterable grandeur. The elements on
fire, the heavens departing, the Son of Man on the
clouds, the appearance of celestial armies, the great
white throne — wiU be a spectacle of 'glory and
terror such as the eye has not yet seen. When we
have watched the moon and the stars holding their
sdent course above the crowds upon the Common
at a pubUc exhibition, they have seemed to us to
be occupied with thoughts of these coming scenes,
compared with which aU that now interests our
eyes is no more than noisy, flashing, and expiring
rockets, compared with the globes on high. We
never see great multitudes enjoying these public
sights without thinking that those same sensibUi-
ties will respond to the sight of future scenes in
the- heavens of unutterable interest. As we cast
the eye from the Uving crowds and their exciting
joys, to the quiet burial place, we are reminded
that the dust of many is garnered there to whom
the Comraon was once the scene of the same in
terest which it now is to others, and that aU the
dead in that enclosure, and the Uving around them,
are to be most interested spectators of events in

62 BOSTONCOMMON.
the clouds of heaven which wUl awaken a deeper
interest than aU the varied exhibitions of which the
Common to the latest generation is destined to be
the scene. In that sky now arching the spot which
has been so long, and wUl be to coming genera
tions, a place of such deep interest, on that vault
of heaven where those clouds pass beautifuUy in
their sUent way over the Uving and the dead, and
from whose western slope at sunset a flood of glory
bathes the whole visible heavens and earth, the
next object which meets the eyes of those who in
chUdhood played on the Common and now sleep
in its border, wiU be, the Judge of the world.> Per
haps it is not a too enthusiastic love of the Com
mon which may prompt one as he looks up to the
heavens above- that place, to say, in the words of
the great EngUsh hymn writer :
' O may I sit there, when he comes to judgment
Dooming the nations ; — then ascend lo glory,
While our hosatmas all along the passage
Shout ; — THE REDEEMEK ! '
Gov. Winthrop and the first elders of Boston
deserve our gratitude for their far-sighted wisdom
in appropriating so much of their land to ' new
comers and common.' But as the first of these
have not yet aU arrived, and the Common is not
yet complete, there is a congruity in the incom
pleteness of these thoughts. The employment of

CONCLUSION. 63
writing them at a season of the year which invites
to relaxation from severer labors has afforded a de
gree of refreshment and pleasure which must be
set to the account of our intelUgent and disinter
ested forefathers. The projectors of future Ameri
can towns and cities, and the constituted guardians
of every incorporated place, who can now secure
the permanent freehold of open grounds, wid be
wise if they make provision for the sweet influen
ces of the heavens to descend for ever upon such
places amongst them as Boston Common.-

YALE UNIVERSITY t

i\i.'