Chapter II: Part 2

How many generations of men--and our old house has seldom if ever been untenanted--have lived and died within those walls! When it was built Charles I. reigned in Old England and Cromwell had not begun his great career. Peter the Great was not then born, and the house was waxing in years when Frederick the Great appeared on the stage. We seem to be speaking of recent events when Louis XVI. suffered by the axe of the guillotine and Napoleon’s sun rose in splendour to set in obscurity.

The Indian, who witnessed its slowly ascending walls with wonder and misgiving; the Englishman, whose axe wakened new echoes in the primeval forest; the Colonist native to the soil, who battled and died within view to found a new nation,--all have passed away. But here, in this old mansion, is the silent evidence of those great epochs of history.

It is not clear at what time the house was erected, but it has usually been fixed at 1634, when a large grant of land was made to Cradock by the General Court. The bricks are said to have been burned near by. There was some attempt at ornament, the lower course of the belt being laid with moulded bricks so as to form a cornice. The loopholes were for defence. The walls were half a yard in thickness. Heavy iron bars secured the arched windows at the back, and the entrance door was encased in iron. The fire-proof closets, huge chimney-stacks, and massive hewn timbers told of strength and durability. A single pane of glass, set in iron and placed in the back wall of the western chimney, overlooked the approach from the town.

The builders were Englishmen, and, of course, followed their English types. They named their towns and villages after the sounding nomenclature of Old England; and what more natural than that they should wish their homes to resemble those they had left behind? Such a house might have served an inhabitant of the Scottish border, with its loopholes, narrow windows and doors sheathed in iron. Against an Indian foray it was impregnable.

Cradock was about the only man connected with the settlement in Massachusetts Bay whose means admitted of such a house. Both Winthrop and Dudley built of wood, and the former rebuked the deputy for what he thought an unreasonable expense in finishing his own house. Many brick buildings were erected in Boston during the first decade of the settlement, but we have found none that can claim such an ancient pedigree as this of which we are writing. It is far from improbable that, having in view a future residence in New England, Cradock may have given directions for or prescribed the plan of this house, and that it may have been the counterpart of his own in St. Swithen’s Lane, near London Stone.

“Then went I forth by London Stone
Throughout all Canwick Street.”

The plantation, with its green meadows and its stately forest-trees, was a manor of which Cradock was lord and master. His grant extended a mile into the country from the river-side in all places. Though absent, he was considered nominally present, and is constantly alluded to by name in the early records. Cradock was a member of the Long Parliament, dying in 1641. The euphonious name of Mystic has been supplanted by Medford, the Meadford of Dudley and the rest.

It is not to be expected that a structure belonging to so remote a period for New England, should be without its legendary lore. It is related that the old fort was at one time beleaguered for several days by an Indian war party, who at length retired baffled from the strong walls and death-shots of the garrison. As a veracious historian, we are compelled to add that we know of no authentic data of such an occurrence.

FRAUNCES’ TAVERN

WILLIAM J. DAVIS

Fraunces’[3] Tavern, corner of Broad and Pearl Streets, was Washington’s quarters, on the evacuation of the city by the British troops, 25th of November, 1783. This old mansion, around which some of the most interesting reminiscences of our Revolutionary history are connected, still remains, although somewhat altered from its original appearance. It was erected about 1735 by the Delancey family, then one of the most distinguished and opulent in New York, and was considered equal in size and architectural display to any at that period in the city.

As a tavern, it was the most noted in New York and was the resort of the bloods of that day, who formed themselves into social clubs, and among whom were some of the most active and distinguished men of the Revolution. Samuel Fraunces, or as he was familiarly called, Black Sam (in consequence of his swarthy complexion), was of French extraction, and appears to have been a prince of a publican. He purchased the house in 1762, from Oliver Delancey, for £2,000, provincial currency, but did not open it as a public house until some time afterwards.

The first notice of Sam that we have been able to discover, is an advertisement in Parker’s _Post Boy_, February 5, 1761, by which it appears that he not only acted as landlord but did considerable business as a dealer in different kinds of preserves. Here is the advertisement:

“To be sold at a very reasonable rate, by Samuel Francis, at the Sign of the Masons’ Arms near the Green, New York, a small quantity of portable soup, catchup, bottled gooseberries, pickled walnuts, pickled or fryed oisters, fit to go to the West Indias, pickled mushrooms, a large assortment of sweetmeats, such as currant jelly, marmalade, quinces, grapes, strawberries and sundry other sorts.”

The Masons’ Arms was very popular under the management of Sam as a Mead and Tea Garden, places much frequented by both sexes on pleasant afternoons. On purchasing the Broad Street house, Sam sold out this, and it is thus announced in the same paper:

“May 13, 1762, John Jones--Begs leave to acquaint the publick, That he has removed to the house formerly kept by Samuel Francis, at the Sign of the Masons’ Arms, next to Mr. Degrusia, in the Fields, where he intends to give the same entertainment as formerly given by Mr. Francis, and that in the best manner. Those Gentlemen and Ladies that please to favour him with their company, may depend on the best usage from their humble servant, John Jones.” He threw open Vauxhall Gardens, which formerly stood in Greenwich Street, near the site afterwards occupied by Stuart’s Sugar Refinery--but which he again resold in 1771, and opened the much more celebrated tavern in Broad Street.

During the troubles which preceded the Revolution, Fraunces Tavern seems to have been the resort of both Whig and Loyalist, political affairs not having sufficient power to sever the social ties of those whose custom it was to assemble there and discuss his Madeira, a wine, the excellent quality of which Sam’s cellar stood proverbial. It must not be presumed that Sam was an idle spectator of the events then passing around him: his sympathies were with the Whigs, and he became one of Washington’s most faithful friends and followers. It was through the instrumentality of his daughter that the attempt to poison Washington was frustrated, she being at that time housekeeper at Richmond Hill, his quarters. This house was one of those which suffered some injury from the broadside of the _Asia_ when she fired upon the city. Freneau in one of his poems, thus speaks of it:

“Scarce a broadside was ended, till another began again--
By Jove! it was nothing but _Fire away Flannagan_!
Some thought him saluting his _Sally’s_ and _Nancy’s_
Till he drove a round shot thro’ the roof of _Sam Francis_.”

Notwithstanding this belligerent demonstration, the social club still continued its weekly meetings for some time. A list of the members of this club was found among the papers of the late John Moore, one of the members and presented to the New York Historical Society, by his son, Thos. W. C. Moore, which contains some very curious remarks which we here insert in full.

“List of Members of the Social Club, which passed Saturday evenings at Sam Francis’s corner of Broad and Dock Street, in winter, and in summer at Kip’s Bay, where they built a neat, large room for the Club House. The British landed at this spot the day they took the city, 15th September, 1776.”

Members of this Club dispersed in December, 1775, and never afterwards assembled.

John Jay (Disaffected) Became Member of Congress,
a Resident Minister
to Spain, Commissioner to
make peace, Chief Justice,
Minister to England, and
on his return, Governor of
New York--a good and
amiable man.

Gouveneur Morris „ Member of Congress, Minister
to France, etc.

Robt. R. Livingston „ Minister to France, Chancellor
of New York, etc.

Egbert Benson „ District Judge, New York,
and in the Legislature.
Good man.

Morgan Lewis „ Governor of New York
and a General in the war of
1812.

Gulian Verplanck „ but in Europe till 1783--President
of New York Bank.

John Livingston and but of no political importance.
his brother Henry „ went to the southward as a
James Seagrove „ merchant.

Francis Lewis „ but of no political importance.

John Watts „ doubtful--during the war
Recorder of New York.

Leonard Lispenard and but remained quiet at New
his brother Anthony „ York.

Rich’d Harrison (Loyal) but has since been Recorder
of New York.

John Hay „ an officer in the British
Army. Killed in West
ndies.

Peter Van Schaack „ a lawyer, remained quiet at
Kinderhook.

Daniel Ludlow „ during the war--since President
of Manhattan Bank.

Dr. S. Bard „ though in 1775 doubtful,
remained in New York--a
good man.

George Ludlow „ remained on Long Island in
quiet. A good man.

William his brother „ or supposed so--remained
on Long Island. Inoffensive
man.

William Imlay „ at first, but doubtful after
1777.

Edward Goold „ at New York all the war--a
merchant.

John Reade (Pro and Con) would have proved loyal,
no doubt, had not his wife’s
family been otherwise.

J. Stevens (Disaffected)

Henry Kelly, (Loyal) went to England and did not
return.

Stephen Rapelye turned out bad--died in the
New York Hospital.

John Moore Loyal --in public life all the war
and from year, 1765.

While the city was in possession of the British nothing of interest seems to have transpired within the house. The 25th day of November, 1783, being the time fixed upon for the exodus of the British troops, arrangements were made for the triumphal entry of Washington and the American army to take possession of the city. On the morning of that day,--a cold, frosty, but clear and brilliant morning--the troops under General Knox encamped at Harlem, marched to the Bowery lane, and halted at the present junction of Third Avenue and the Bowery. There they remained until about one o’clock in the afternoon when the British left their posts in that vicinity and marched to Whitehall. The American troops followed, and before three o’clock General Knox took formal possession of Fort George, amid the acclamations of thousands of emancipated freemen and the roar of artillery upon the Battery. Washington repaired to his quarters at Fraunces Tavern, and there, during the afternoon, Governor Clinton gave a public dinner to the officers of the army, and in the evening the town was brilliantly illuminated. But the most remarkable event connected with the history of the house and which has rendered it the greatest monument to perpetuate the virtues and patriotism of Washington, is the fact that in it he virtually resigned the charge which he had assumed on taking command of the army. In the room on the second story occurred the scene of his taking leave of his officers,--men who had suffered with him in all the dangers and privations of that protracted struggle which brought us liberty, devoted and ready to follow his lead in any enterprise. What a noble spectacle does that scene present to the mind for contemplation--how unlike other leaders in similar movements, who, after having successfully obtained their purposes, seize the reins of government, assisted by a victorious army and elevate themselves to the supreme power by trampling upon the liberties of the people.

At this time great discontent existed throughout the army occasioned by the coldness of Congress to the numerous petitions which had been presented to obtain relief. The Newburgh letters proceeded from that cause. Many of the best friends of America began to entertain doubts as to the States being able to sustain themselves, and that anarchy would rule. In view of this state of affairs, overtures had been made to the chief to elect him king, but virtue was stronger than power; he declined the proffer, with an admonition to those who offered it which they could never forget.

The City of New York has made many futile attempts to erect to the memory of Washington a suitable monument. It has already been done. The preservation of Fraunces Tavern is the greatest monument that can be conceived or erected. Let the demagogue who would barter the liberties of his country for his personal aggrandizement visit it, and stand within that room where the greatest of men resigned his power and became a simple farmer again; and will not that bright example bring him back to his duty again? It may become a second Mecca to bring the faithful to behold the room in which occurred the scene of his greatness and magnanimity.

On Thursday, December 4, 1783, the principal officers of the army assembled at Fraunces’s to take a final leave of their beloved chief. The scene is described as one of great tenderness. Washington entered the room where they were all waiting, and, taking a glass of wine in his hand, he said: “With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honourable.” Having drank, he continued: “I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged to you if each will come and take me by the hand.” Knox, who stood nearest to him, turned and grasped his hand, and, while the tears flowed down the cheeks of each, the commander-in-chief kissed him. This he did to each of his officers, while tears and sobs stifled utterance. Washington soon left the room, and passing through a corps of light infantry, he walked in silence to Whitehall, followed by a vast procession, and at two o’clock entered a barge to proceed to Paulus Hook, on his way to _Mount Vernon_.

Sam Fraunces kept the house until 1785, when he sold it.

On the election of Washington to the Presidency, Sam was appointed steward to his establishment. An anecdote is related of Sam, who was always anxious to provide the first dainties of the season for the General’s table. It appears that Sam, on making his purchases at the old Fly Market, observed a fine shad, the first of the season; he was not long in making the bargain, and it was sent home with his other purchases. Next morning it was duly served up in Sam’s best style for the General’s breakfast. The General on sitting down to the table observed the fish and asked Sam what it was. He replied “that it was a fine shad.” “It is very early in the season for them,” rejoined the General, “how much did you pay for it?” “Two dollars,” said Sam. “Two dollars! I can never encourage this extravagance at my table,” replied Washington, “take it away--I will not touch it.” The shad was accordingly removed, and Sam, who had no such economical scruples, made a hearty meal on the fish at his own table.

WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE

JOHN FISKE[4]

This college was established in 1693, with Blair for its president. Governor Nicholson, with seventeen other persons appointed by the assembly, formed the board of trustees. From the outset Nicholson was warmly in sympathy with the enterprise, but now this friend was called away for a time. In the anti-Catholic fervour which attended the accession of King William and Queen Mary, the palatinate government in Maryland had been overturned and the new Royal Governor Sir Lionel Copley, died in 1693. Nicholson was then promoted from Deputy-Governor of Virginia to be Governor of Maryland. About the same time Lord Howard of Effingham resigned or was removed, and Sir Edmund Andros was sent out to Virginia as Governor. It may seem a strange appointment in view of the obloquy which Andros had incurred at the north. But in all these appointments William III. seems to have acted upon a consistent policy of not disturbing, except in cases of necessity, the state of things which he found. As a rule he retained in his service the old officials against whom no grave charges were brought; and while the personality of Andros was not prepossessing, there can be no doubt as to his integrity.

Nicholson’s career as Royal Governor of Maryland lasted until 1698, while Andros was having a hard time in Virginia trying to enforce with rigour the Navigation Act and to make life miserable for Dr. Blair. His conduct was far more moderate than it had been in New England, but he had his full share of trouble in Virginia. The moving cause of his hostility to the College of William and Mary is not distinctly assigned, but he is not unlikely to have believed, like many a dullard of his stripe, that education is apt to encourage a seditious and forward spirit. He did everything he could think of to thwart and annoy President Blair. At the election of burgesses he predicted that the establishment of a college would be sure to result in a terrible increase of taxes. He tried to persuade subscribers to withhold the payment of their subscriptions. He sought to arouse an absurd prejudice against Scotchmen, for which it was rather late in the day. Finally he connived at gross insults to the president and friends of the college. Among the young men to whom Andros showed especial favour was Daniel Parke, whose grandson, Daniel Parke Custis, is now remembered as the first husband of Martha Washington. This young Daniel did some things to which posterity could hardly point with pride. He is described as a “sparkish gentleman,” or as some would say, a slashing blade. He was an expert with the rapier, and anxious to thrust it between the ribs of people who supported the college. His challenges were numerous, but clergymen could not be reached in such a way. So “he set up a claim to the pew in church in which Mrs. Blair sat, and one Sunday,” as we are told, “with fury and violence he pulled her out of it in the presence of the minister and congregation, who were greatly scandalized at this ruffian and profane action.”[5]

This was going too far. The stout Scotchman had powerful friends in London; the outrage was discussed in Lambeth Palace; and Sir Edmund Andros, for winking at such behaviour, was removed. He was evidently a slow-witted official. His experiences in Boston, with Parson Willard of the Old South, ought to have cured him of his propensity to quarrel with aggressive and resolute clergymen. For two or three years after going home, Sir Edmund governed the little channel island of Jersey, and the rest of his days were spent in retirement, until his death in 1714.

The system of absentee Governors occasionally exemplified in such cases as those of Lord Delaware and Lord Howard, was now to be permanently adopted. A great favourite with William III. was George Hamilton Douglas, whose distinguished gallantry at the Battle of the Boyne and other occasions had been rewarded with the earldom of Orkney. In 1697 he was appointed governor-in-chief of Virginia, and for the next forty years he drew his annual salary of £1,200 without ever crossing the ocean. Henceforth the official who represented him in Virginia was entitled Lieutenant-Governor, and the first was Francis Nicholson, who was brought back from Maryland in 1698.

One of Nicholson’s achievements in Maryland had been the change of seat of government from St. Mary’s to Annapolis. He now proceeded to make a similar change in Virginia. After perishing in Bacon’s rebellion, Jamestown was rebuilt by Lord Culpepper, but in the last decade of the century it was again destroyed by an accidental fire, and has never since risen from its ashes. Of that sacred spot, the first abiding-place of Englishmen in America, nothing now is left but the ivy-mantled ruins of the church-tower and a few cracked and crumbling tombstones.

Jamestown had always a bad reputation for malaria, and after its second burning people were not eager to restore it. Plans for moving the government elsewhere had been considered on more than one occasion. In 1699 the choice fell upon the site of Middle Plantation, half-way between James and York Rivers, with its salubrious air and wholesome water. It had already, in 1693, been selected as the site of the new college. Nicholson called the place Williamsburg, and began building a town there with streets so laid out as to make W and M, the initials of the king and queen, a plan soon abandoned as inconvenient. The town thus founded by Nicholson remained the capital of Virginia until 1780, when it was superseded by Richmond.

Nicholson was in full sympathy with President Blair as regarded the college, but occasions for disagreement between them were at hand. On the Lieutenant-Governor’s arrival the wise parson read him a lesson upon the need for moderation in the display of his powers. The career of his predecessor Andros, in more than one Colony, furnished abundant examples of the need for such moderation. Blair offered him some good advice tendered by the Bishop of Lincoln, whereupon Nicholson exclaimed, with a big round oath: “I know how to govern Virginia and Maryland better than all the bishops in England. If I had not hampered them in Maryland and kept them under, I should never have been able to govern them.” The doctor replied: “Sir, I do not pretend to [speak for] Maryland, but if I know anything of Virginia, they are a good-natured [and] tractable people as any in the world, and you may do anything with them by way of civility, but you will never be able to manage them in that way you speak of, by hampering and keeping them under.” The eccentric governor did not profit by this advice....

Nicholson was recalled to England in 1705. Afterwards we find him commanding the expedition which in 1710 captured the Acadian Port Royal from the French. He then served as Governor of the newly conquered Nova Scotia and afterwards of South Carolina, was knighted, rose to the rank of Lieutenant-General and died in 1728.

Meanwhile the College of William and Mary, in which Nicholson felt so much interest, was flourishing. Unfortunately its first hall, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, was destroyed by fire in 1705, but it was before long replaced by another. Until 1712, the faculty consisted of the president, a grammar-master, writing-master and an usher; in that year a professor of mathematics was added. In 1729, there were six professors. Fifty years later the departments of law and medicine were added, and the name “College” was replaced by “University.”

As in the case of Harvard, it was hoped that this college might prove effective in converting and educating Indians. In 1723, Brafferton Hall was built for their use, from a fund given by Robert Boyle, the famous chemist. It is still standing and used as a dormitory. We are told that the “Queen of Pamunkey” sent her son to college with a boy to wait upon him, and likewise two chief’s sons, “all handsomely cloathed after the Indian fashion”; but as to any effects wrought upon the barbarian mind by this Christian institution of learning, there is nothing to which we can point.

The first Commencement exercises were held in the year 1700, and it is said that not only were Virginians and Indians present on that gala day, but so great was the fame of it that people came in sloops from Maryland and Pennsylvania and even from New York. The journals of what we may call the “faculty meetings” throw light upon the manner of living at the college. There is a matron or housekeeper, who is thus carefully instructed: “1. That you never concern yourself with any of the Boys only when you have a Complaint against any of them, and then that you make it to his or their proper Master.--2. That there be always both fresh and salt Meat for Dinner; and twice in the Week, as well as on Sunday in particular, that there be either Puddings or Pies besides; that there be always Plenty of Victuals; that Breakfast, Dinner and Supper be serv’d up in the cleanest and neatest manner possible; and for this Reason the Society not only allow but desire you to get a Cook; that the Boy’s Suppers be not as usual made up of different Scraps, but that there be at each Table the same Sort: and when there is cold fresh Meat enough, that it be often hashed for them; and that when they are sick, you yourself see their Victuals before it be carried to them, that it be clean, decent and fit for them; that the Person appointed to take Care of them be constantly with them, and give their Medicine regularly. The general Complaints of the Visitors and other Gentlemen throughout the whole Colony, plainly shew the Necessity of a strict and regular Compliance with the above Directions.... 4. That a proper Stocking-mender be procured to live in or near the college, and as both Masters and Boys complain of losing their Stockings, you are desired to look over their Notes given with their Linnen to the Wash, both at the Delivery and return of them.... 5. That the Negroes be trusted with no keys; ... that fresh Butter be look’d out for in Time, that the Boys may not be forced to eat salt in Summer.--6. As we all know that Negroes will not perform their Duties without the Mistress’ constant Eye, especially in so large a Family as the College, and as we all observe You going abroad more frequently then even the Mistress of a private Family can do without the affairs of her province greatly suffering, We particularly request it of you, that your visits for the future in Town and Country may not be so frequent, by which Means we doubt not but Complaints will be greatly lessened.”[6]

At another meeting it is ordered that “y^t no scholar belonging to any school in the College of w^t Age, Rank, or Quality, soever, do keep any race Horse at y^e College, in y^e Town--or anywhere in the neighbourhood--y^t they be not any way concerned in making races, or in backing, or abetting, those made by others, and y^t all Race Horses, kept in y^e neighbourhood of y^e College, etc., belonging to any of y^e scholars, be immediately dispatched and sent off and never again brought back, and all of this under Pain of y^e severest Animadversion and Punishment.”

There is a stress in the wording of this order which makes one suspect that the faculty had encountered difficulty in suppressing horse-racing. Similar orders forbid students to take part in cock-fighting, to frequent “y^e Ordinaries,” to bet, to play at billiards, or to bring cards or dice into the college. Punishment is most emphatically threatened for any student who may “presume to go out of y^e Bounds of y^e College, particularly towards the mill-pond” without express leave; but why the mill-pond was to be so sedulously shunned we are left to conjecture. Finally, “to y^e End y^t no Person may pretend Ignorance of y^e foregoing ... Regulations, ... it is Ordered ... y^t a clear and legible copy of y^m be posted up in every School of y^e College.”[7]

One of the brightest traditions in the history of the college is that which tells of the wooing and wedding of Parson Camm, a gentleman famous once, whose fame deserves to be revived. John Camm was born in 1718 and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. He was a man of good scholarship and sturdy character, an uncompromising Tory, one of the leaders in that “Parsons’ Cause,” which made Patrick Henry famous. He lived to be the last president of William and Mary before the Revolution. After he had attained middle age, but while he was as yet only a preacher and professor, and like all professors in those days at William and Mary a bachelor, there came to him the romance which brightened his life. Among those who listened to his preaching was Miss Betsy Hansford, of the family of Hansford, the rebel and martyr. A young friend, who had wooed Miss Betsy without success, persuaded the worthy parson to aid him with his eloquence. But it was in vain that Mr. Camm besieged the young lady with texts from the Bible enjoining matrimony as a duty. She proved herself able to beat him at his own game when she suggested that if the parson would go home and look at 2 Samuel xii. 7, he might be able to define the reason of her obduracy. When Mr. Camm proceeded to search the Scriptures, he found these significant words staring him in the face: “And Nathan said to David, _Thou art the man!_” The sequel is told in an item of the Virginia Gazette, announcing the marriage of Rev. John Camm and Miss Betsy Hansford.

So, Virginia, too, had its Priscilla! In the words of the sweet mediæval poem:

“El fait que dame, et si fait bien,
Car sos ciel n’a si france rien
Com est dame qui violt amer,
Quant Deus la violt à ço torner:
Deus totes dames beneie.”[8]

But this marriage was an infringement of the customs of the college, and was rebuked in an order that _hereafter_ the marriage of a professor should _ipso facto_ vacate his office.

The college founded by James Blair was a most valuable centre for culture in Virginia, and has been remarkable in many ways. It was the first college in America to introduce teaching by lectures, and the elective system of study; it was the first to unite a group of faculties into a university; it was the second in the English world to have a chair of Municipal Law, George Wythe coming to such a professorship a few years after Sir William Blackstone; it was the first in America to establish a chair of History and Political Science; and it was one of the first to pursue a thoroughly secular and unsectarian policy. Though until lately its number of students at any one time had never reached one hundred and fifty, it has given to our country fifteen senators and seventy representatives in Congress; seventeen Governors of States, and thirty-seven judges; three Presidents of the United States,--Jefferson, Monroe and Tyler; and the great Chief Justice Marshall. It was a noble work for America that was done by the Scotch parson, James Blair.

THE MISSION DOLORES, SAN FRANCISCO

LADY HARDY

We enter the Golden Gate Park, where, a few years ago, the Pacific waves were rolling; but these hundreds of acres have been reclaimed from the sea, and are planted with rare shrubs, young trees, evergreens and blooming flowers. It is tastefully laid out, a landscape garden and park in one; there are picturesque winding paths and shady nooks and corners where you can hide from the sun’s searching rays, and, while you listen to the singing birds overhead, hear the boom of the breakers on the shore below. We pass through this paradise of green and reach a silent sea of yellow sandhills, smooth and soft as velvet, billowing round in graceful, undulating waves as far as the eye can reach; there is a sudden curve, and the wide Pacific Sea, in all its glory, lies before us clothed in the sunshine, its white foam lips kissing the golden shore; its long level line stretched against the distant skies. We drove down to it; nay, drove into it, and watched its tiny waves dimpling into a thousand welcomes beneath our wheels. The sun and sea conspired together to fill the air with balmy breezes. We felt the soft spray blowing in our faces, stirring our blood, and setting our cheeks aglow, and as we breathed the crisp, soft air, laden with three thousand miles of iodine, we seemed to be taking a draught of the elixir of life.

On our way home we passed the old Mission; at least, all that is left of it, which is not much--the mere remnants of some redwood houses and the ancient church, a quaint-looking low-roofed home of desolation, with its adobe walls of sun-baked clay about four feet thick, which promise to withstand the encroaches of time a century longer. A chime of three bells still hangs in three square portholes; their long tongues red with rust, droop dumb and motionless from their silent mouths. Only a hundred years ago they were brought from Castile, blessed by the holy fathers, and brought here to the edge of the wild Western world to ring out and summon the heathen and the wanderer to worship the one true God.

You enter the ruined church through a low, arched doorway. The broken font is still there, but the last drop of holy water was spilled from it long ago. The mullioned windows are of a quaint fan-like shape and the genial sun tries to pierce through the grime and dust and send its beams dancing over the crumbled ruin within. The painted wooden shrines of St. Joseph and St. Francis (who gave the settlement of Yerba Buena the name of San Francisco) are still there. Near by are the Madonna and Child, but the paint has worn off and they are all discoloured and stained with the damp wind and the rain which drips, in the rainy season, from the dilapidated roof. The crumbling decorations, though they are of a rough, rude workmanship, still bear the stamp of artistic design, though crudely executed by unaccustomed hands, who laboured for the love of God. It is about a hundred feet from the threshold to the altar. Give reins to your imagination, set it galloping back a hundred years, and see the priests, the white nuns, and hooded friars clustered round the empty altar busy in the service of the Lord; the aisles filled with kneeling Indians, who know little of the faith they have adopted except that there is an unknown God somewhere who makes their corn grow, watches over their lives here, with a promise of a life hereafter; men from Mexico, Peru, and Spain, and wanderers from all along the wild Pacific coast are standing reverently round; censers are swinging, lights are burning, and a choir of voices chant the Ave Marias. A Christian host gathered in that wilderness by the sea. Where are they all now? Vanished like the children of a dream.

A mouldy, funereal odour clings about the ruined walls, and we are glad to step out into the little graveyard outside, where the English hawthorn and white winter roses are blooming and the grass growing rich and luxuriant above the moss-grown graves. Whole tribes of Indians lie buried in the dust below our feet. There is no more desolate spot in the world than a disused graveyard. We read strange unfamiliar names upon the broken, half-buried stones, and crumbling urns, dilapidated angels and crippled cherubs are tottering round us. Here and there we decipher an English name, and, beneath, the information: “Died by the hands of the V. C.”; “In mercy we slay the enemies of the Lord.” The V. C. means the Vigilance Committee, who, in the early lawless days, executed justice swift and sure upon proven criminals. The strict justice of their decisions was never called in question. A certain number of men of known integrity were invested with supreme power of life or death, and the guilt of a man being once fully assured, he had a brief trial and swift execution. There was no legal quibbling, which often lets loose some atrocious criminal to prey upon the world again until, at the end, he is launched out of it. Near the low arched gateway stands the dilapidated figure of a woman, her sightless eyes and lifted hands pointing upwards--mute significance of one hope for all the miscellaneous dead.

A fresh breeze was blowing outside, but here it seemed to hang heavy and still, laden with the damp odour of mouldering graves, which mingled with and destroyed the sweet scent of the flowers that are flourishing so luxuriantly above the dead. This was the first we had seen of the many remnants of the old mission days, when the Spanish Fathers first came to the wilderness to sow the good seed and reap the harvest in their Lord’s name.

About the year 1820 the mission began to decay, the soldiers were recalled from the Presidio, where they had been stationed for the protection of the friars and their property, and from that time the missions dwindled, till the Fathers were recalled to Spain. They carried with them all their cattle and movable goods, and left their buildings to decay. These are scattered throughout the State of California, wherever the Fathers held temporary sway. Still, though they and their labours have passed away, and are well-nigh forgotten, they have left their traces behind them: throughout the country we find the old Spanish names still clinging to the soil, such as Santa Clara, Santa Rosa, Santa Barbara, San Rafael, San José, Los Angeles, Monterey, Carmelo, etc. Mr. John S. Hittell has given in his history of California a most interesting and graphic account of these missions, their people, their work, and the effect upon the country from their first establishment to their decline.

The city has grown out of the wilderness, and crowded so close to the crumbling walls of the ruined mission that as we leave the gloomy precincts we step out into the populous streets, which are full of hurry, bustle and vigorous young life. It is like stepping from the old century into the new. Gaily painted cars and omnibuses are dashing up and down the wide Mission Street, each following the other so quickly that before you can step into one, another is on its heels.

KING’S CHAPEL, BOSTON

F. W. P. GREENWOOD

The _Rose_ frigate must have seemed to the greater part of the Bostonians, or Bostoneers, as Randolph called them, freighted heavily with woe, bearing as it did the Rev. Robert Ratcliffe, of the Church of England, with his surplice and his book of Common Prayer; to say nothing of the commission which appointed a president over them by the King’s sole authority. It was as new to them and as disagreeable to have in their midst a settled clergyman of that church as it was to see at their head a ruler not of their own choosing. “There had been very few instances of even occasional assemblies for religious worship according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England for more than fifty years. When the commissioners from King Charles were at Boston in 1665, they had a chaplain with them, but there was no house for public worship. Most of the inhabitants who were upon the stage in 1686, had never seen a Church of England assembly” (Hutchinson). The time was now come for the strange sight to be exhibited, and for the members of the Episcopal communion to rally under the countenance and influence of the Royal government. It should be stated, too, that the general court had declared in 1677, that no persons should be hindered from performing divine service according to the Church of England. The way therefore appeared to lay smooth and open for the Episcopalians to introduce their forms of worship and government.

As Randolph had the chief hand in overturning the old charter of the Colony, so was he most active and efficient in establishing an Episcopalian Church here, and procuring the services of a clergyman from England.

Randolph carried his two great ends, the destruction of the original Massachusetts Charter, and the importation and introduction of an Episcopal clergyman.

On the 15th of May, 1686, as I have before stated, arrived the _Rose_ frigate, commanded by Captain George. On the 25th Dudley entered on the duties of his temporary presidency. On the 26th, Mr. Ratcliffe waited on the council and Mr. Mason and Randolph proposed that he should have one of the three Congregational meeting-houses to preach in. This was denied, but he was granted the use of the library room in the east end of the town house, which then stood where the Old State House, or, as its present name is, the City Hall, now stands.

This was truly an humble beginning for those who made such high pretensions as did these zealous Royalists and churchmen. As they assembled in the east end of the town house, and looked round on their twelve forms and their movable pulpit, they must have felt the contrast between such a tabernacle and the solemn old cathedrals at home; and have felt, too, that they were among a people who, though of the same blood as themselves, were strangers to their mode of faith and worship, despising what they esteemed most sacred, and setting at nought the power which they deemed unquestionable.

On the 23d of March, 1687, the Governor (Sir Edmund Andros) sent Mr. Randolph for the keys of the South meeting house, now called the Old South, that the Episcopalians might have prayers there. A committee of six, of whom Judge Sewall was one, thereupon waited on his Excellency to show that the house was their own property, and to repeat that they could not consent to part with it to such use. This was on Wednesday. The following Friday, which was Good Friday, Sir Edmund Andros sent to command the sexton of the South church to open the door and ring the bell for those of the Church of England. The sexton, though he had resolved not to do so, was persuaded or intimidated into compliance, and the Governor and his party took possession of the house, and the church service was performed there.

We now approach the close of Andros’s tyrannical government, which was brought about through the influence of one of the most auspicious changes in the government of the mother country, the Glorious Revolution, as it is called, of 1688. The spring succeeding the landing of William of Orange at Torbay, news was brought to Boston of the event, by way of Virginia, by a Mr. Winslow. Sunday, the 26th of May, the joyful news arrived of the proclaiming of William and Mary and on the 29th, the proclamation was published in Boston with great ceremony. Late in the year, an order from the King was received, requiring that Sir Edmund Andros, Edward Randolph, John Trefry, and others that had been seized by the people of Boston, should be sent to England in the first ship bound thither, and in February, 1690, they embarked, and Boston was rid of them and their tyranny.

Mr. Ratcliffe and his assistant, Mr. Clark, must have also gone back to England about this time, as I find no notice of either of them, after the disposition of Andros. But in the meantime, the Episcopal Church had been built. How the land was procured, or of whom, when the building was dedicated, or by whom, there is no record, or if there be one, I have not met with it.

This first church was built of wood. It stood on the spot covered by the present church, but did not occupy nearly so much ground. In an old engraving which I have examined, representing the town of Boston as it was in 1720, this church, among others, is introduced. It stands in the same position with the present one, has a square tower at the west end, from the roof of which rises a staff supporting the vane, and just under the vane is a large and quite observable crown. It was the fifth house of public worship erected in Boston. The Congregational houses were then three in number, and the Baptists had succeeded in building themselves a church several years before the Episcopalians commenced theirs.

In the beginning of the year 1702, news was received of the death of King William, and the Church was put in mourning. Before his decease, Mr. Joseph Dudley, who had rendered himself so obnoxious here, as in many things the coadjutor, and, for his own selfish ends almost the creature of Randolph, had interest enough to obtain while in London, the appointment of Governor of Massachusetts, which he had so long and eagerly coveted. On his reappearance in Boston, invested with his new dignity, he was received kindly and with a forgetfulness of past offences. He joined himself to the congregation of _Queen’s Chapel_, as it was now called, on the accession of Queen Anne; and his name, together with that of the Lieutenant-Governor, constantly appears on the list of vestrymen.

At the Easter meeting in 1708, it was “agreed, that on Whitsunmonday there be a meeting of the congregation about enlarging the Queen’s Chappell.” The work, however, seems not to have been commenced till the year 1710, when a subscription was raised to effect its accomplishment. It amounted, indeed, to a rebuilding of the church, which was enlarged to twice its original size; nor was it till the year 1713, that the pillars, capitals and cornice were painted, and the scaffolding taken down. Places were assigned anew to the proprietors, and each person paid for the building of his own pew. And whereas the pews had been built before, according to the usual fashion, with little rails or banisters running round the top, it was now voted that they should “be built in one forme without banisters.” The pulpit was removed from its former situation “to the next pillar at the East, being near the centre of the Church.” The two long pews fronting the pulpit were made into two square pews, one for Col. Tailer, Lieutenant-Governor, the other for Mr. Jekyll, and the two pews behind them were made into one, for the use of masters of vessels; and the pew behind that was appropriated to the accommodation of eight old men. A shell was placed over the south door.

A clock was given by “the Gentlemen of the British Society”; and a more important present, that of an organ, demands a more particular notice.

_A Record of Votes and Resolutions, etc., together with some brief Memoirs of the Transactions relating to the Rebuilding King’s Chapel in Boston_ begins with stating that King’s Chapel was first erected of wood in the year 1688, that it was enlarged in 1710, and being found in the year 1741 in a state of considerable decay, that it was proposed to rebuild it of stone. The Rev. Roger Price was at that time “minister,” and William Shirley, Esq. (about the same time appointed Governor of the Province), and Mr. Sam’l Wentworth, wardens. A voluntary subscription was set on foot, and Peter Faneuil, Esq., chosen treasurer for receiving sums subscribed. The building was to be stone and cost £25,000 old tenor. It was not to be commenced till £10,000 were subscribed.

In March, 1753, the new church being so far advanced that it was necessary to desert the old one, the congregation requested and obtained leave to meet in Trinity Church on Sundays, at separate hours from the congregation of that church, and on festival and prayer days in Mr. Croswell’s meeting-house. In April the old church was pulled down. Before it falls to the ground, let us take such a glimpse of its venerable interior, as the mist of dim ages will allow us.

Since the enlargement of the Chapel in 1710, and the erection subsequently of galleries, it contained 122 pews, of which number 82 were on the ground floor. But these pews must have been small, as the present church contains no more. The pulpit was on the north side of the church, at about the midst. A finely decorated pew for the Governor who sat successively in it, was opposite; and near it there was another pew reserved for the officers of the British Army and Navy. In the west gallery of this first Episcopal Church was the first organ which ever pealed to the praise of God in this country; while displayed along its walls, and suspended from its pillars, after the manner of foreign churches, were escutcheons and coats-of-arms being those of the King, Sir Edmund Andros, Francis Nicholson, Captain Hamilton, and Governors Dudley, Shute, Burnet, Belcher and Shirley. In the pulpit there was an hourglass, according to the old fashion, mounted on a large and elaborate stand of brass. At the east end there was “the Altar piece, whereon was the Glory painted, the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed and some texts of Scripture.” It was a strange sight among the bare churches of New England.

In 1756 the noble organ which now stands in our west gallery was procured from England, and paid for by the subscription of individuals belonging to the church. Its original cost in London was £500 sterling; and when all charges were added, its whole expense amounted to £637. As it was obtained by private subscription, no notice of it whatever is taken in the church records. The only memorial concerning it with which I am acquainted, is a paragraph in the _Boston Gazette and Country Journal_ of 30th of August, 1756, which is copied into our later records, and is as follows:

“We hear that the organ, which lately arrived from London by Capt. Farr for King’s Chapel in this Town, will be opened on Thursday next in the Afternoon; and that said organ (which contains a variety of curious stops never yet heard in these parts) is esteemed by the most eminent masters in England, to be equal, if not superior to any of the same size in Europe.--There will be a sermon suitable to the occasion; Prayers to begin at four o’clock.”

There is a very current tradition respecting this organ, that it was selected by Handel himself. Taking into consideration the above reference to “the most eminent masters in England,” we may receive this tradition as founded in truth. And, moreover, as the organ was designed for the King’s Chapel in New England, we may readily suppose that his Majesty’s favourite musician would at least be desired to give his opinion of its merits; and this opinion, being favourable, might be called a selection, even if the “mighty master” gave himself no further trouble with its purchase. Handel died in 1758, and was blind eight years before his death. But sight was not at all necessary in the office supposed to be consigned to him, and though his eyes never could have measured the external proportions of this organ, his ears must probably have judged of its tones and powers and his own hands rested on its keys.

In 1772, an additional service of plate, together with new pulpit furniture, was obtained from the King through the influence of Governor Hutchinson. In 1773, the ancient records end. A short time previous to the breaking out of the war, and through the whole of the year 1775, King’s Chapel was the place of worship of many of the officers of the Navy and Army of Great Britain, who were stationed in and near Boston; and the duties of Dr. Caner and his assistant were consequently much increased.

The Chapel remained closed till the autumn of 1777; and then it was opened, not for Episcopal but Congregational services, very contrary to all the anticipations of Dr. Caner. The congregation of the Old South Church, not being able at that time to repair the desolations of their own sanctuary, which had been desecrated, spoiled, and used as a riding-school by the British troops, applied for the use of King’s Chapel, or the Stone Chapel, as it then for obvious reasons began to be called. The application was made to the few proprietors of the Chapel who were left, and was readily granted. “The congregation,” says Mr. Wisner, in his _History of the Old South Church_, “were kindly and gratuitously accommodated at the Chapel about five years.”

Our church as a building has undergone no considerable change since the Revolution, except the erection of the colonnade at the West End, or Front, which was put up in the year 1790. The crown and mitre have, to be sure, disappeared from their stations on the top of the organ, and the Governor’s pew, with its Corinthian pillars and crimson damask tapestry, has been taken down and converted into two pews of common size and pretensions. But the architecture and interior arrangements, are, in all other respects, the same as before the war.

SOME BUILDINGS IN HAVANA

RICHARD DAVEY