My last, though not least, lion of Boston is the "Tremont House," which
being, in my opinion, the very best of the best class of large hotels in
the Union, I shall select as a specimen.
With externals I have little to do, although the architecture of this
fine building might well claim a particular description: its frontage is
nearly two hundred feet, with two wings about one hundred each in depth:
it is three stories high in front above the basement, and the wings are
each of four stories: the number of rooms, its proprietor informed me,
amount to two hundred, independent of kitchens, cellars, and other
offices: it contains hot and cold baths, and is, in fact, wanting in
nothing essential to the character of a well-contrived hotel.
The curious part of the affair, however, to a European, and more
especially to an Englishman, is the internal arrangement of such a huge
institution, the machinery by which it is so well and so quietly
regulated.
Let the reader reflect, that here are two public tables daily, one for
men resident in the house, together with many gentlemen of the city, who
regularly dine here; the other for ladies, or families who have not
private apartments: of the latter there are a dozen, consisting of two
or more chambers attached to each parlour; these are seldom unoccupied,
and have also to be provided for: add to all this an occasional dinner
or supper to large public parties, and he will then be enabled to
appreciate the difficulties and do justice to the system which works as
I shall presently describe.
At half-past seven A.M. the crash of a gong rattles through the remotest
galleries, to rouse the sleepers: this you may hear or not, just as you
choose; but sound it does, and loudly. Again, at eight, it proclaims
breakfast on the public tables: as I never made my appearance at this
meal, I cannot be expected to tell how it may be attended. The lover of
a late _dejeuner_ may either order his servant to provide one in his own
room, or at any hour, up to noon, direct it to be served in the common
hall: it will, in either case, consist of whatever he may desire that is
in the house.
At three o'clock, dinner is served in a well-proportioned, well-lighted
room, seventy feet long by thirty-one wide, occupied by two parallel
tables, perfectly appointed, and provided with every delicacy of the
season, well dressed and in great abundance,--the French cooking the
best in the country,--this _par parenthese_. Meantime, the attendance is
very sufficient for a man not in a "devouring rage," and the wines of
every kind really unexceptionable to any reasonable _gourmet_.
At this same hour, let it be borne in mind, the same play is playing in
what is called the ladies' dining-room, where they sit surrounded by
their husbands, fathers, brothers, or lovers, as may be; and surely
having no meaner table-service. As for the possessors of an apartment,
these persons order dinner for as many as they please, at what hour they
please, and in what style they please, the which is duly provided in
their respective parlours.
In the public rooms tea is served at six, and supper at nine o'clock; it
being yet a marvel to me, first, how all these elaborate meals are so
admirably got up, and next, how the plague these good people find
appetite to come to time with a regularity no less surprising.
It was a constant subject of no little amusement to me to observe a few
of the knowing hands hanging about, as feeding-time drew near, their
ears on the prick and their eyes on the door, which is thrown open at
the first bellow of the gong.
As to the indecent pushing and driving, so amusingly described by some
travellers, I never saw a symptom of it in any hotel I visited
throughout the country: on the contrary, the absence of extraordinary
bustle and confusion, where such numbers have to be provided for, is not
the least striking part of the affair; and only to be accounted for by
supposing that the habit of living thus together, and being in some sort
accountable to one another, renders individuals more considerate and
courteous than they can afford to be when congregated to feed amongst
us.
I confess that, at first, a dinner of a hundred, or a hundred and fifty
persons, on a hot day, alarmed me; but, the strangeness got over, I
rather liked this mode of living, and, as a stranger in a new country,
would certainly prefer it to the solitary mum-chance dinner of a
coffee-room.
By eleven o'clock at night the hive is hushed, and the house as quiet as
any well-ordered citizen's proper dwelling. The servants in this
establishment were all Irish lads; and a civiller or better-conducted
set of boys, as far as the guests were concerned, I never saw, or would
desire to be waited on by. The bar was also well conducted, under the
care of an obliging and very active person; and the proprietor, Mr.
Boydon, or his father, constantly on the spot, both most active in all
matters conducive to the ease and comfort of the visitors.
This city abounds in charitable institutions, and nowhere have more
princely contributions been made for philanthropic purposes,--witness
the recent gift of Colonel Perkins of a mansion, valued at thirty
thousand dollars, as a permanent asylum for the blind; one of those
institutions most interesting in themselves, and which confer dignity
and honour upon the age and upon human nature.
The Bostonians are said to be proud of their literary character, and
boast a number of societies whose object it is to justify their claim to
this honourable distinction. The only one I can speak of from personal
observation is the Athenaeum, an excellently-supplied reading-room;
having attached to it a library of thirty thousand volumes, a valuable
collection of coins and medals, a gallery for the exhibition of
pictures, and lecture-rooms well furnished with the necessary apparatus
for philosophical and practical illustration.
This institution is provided for by subscription: the principal portion
of the mansion it occupies being the free gift of the same open hand
which so munificently endowed the asylum for the blind.
The private literary society here is said to be very superior to that of
any other city of the States, and by no means small. Of society so
called I nothing know, never having had the honour of being admitted of
the community, or indeed having made any attempts upon their proper
realm beyond an occasional rude foray on the border, uncontinued, and
consequently little noted.
Private intercourse is gay and agreeable, and less restrained by the
exclusive pretension to dress and fashion which prevails in society both
at New York and Philadelphia; whilst, if attractive women are less
numerous here than in those cities, beauty is by no means rare; indeed
Boston boasts of one family whose personal attractions might serve to
sustain the pretensions of a larger population.