There is no calamity the bostonians so much, and justly dread, as
fire. Almost every part of the town exhibits melancholy proofs of the
devastation of that destructive element. This you will not wonder at, when
I inform you that three fourths of the houses are built with _wood_,
and covered with _shingles_, thin pieces of cedar, nearly in the
shape, and answering the end of tiles. We have no regular fire-men, or
rather mercenaries, as every master of a family belongs to a fire-company:
there are several in town, composed of every class of citizens, who have
entered into a contract to turn out with two buckets at the first fire
alarm, and assist to the utmost of their power in extinguishing the
flames, without fee or reward.
I awoke this morning about two o'clock by the cry of fire, and the
jingling of all the church bells, which, with the rattling of the engines,
call for water, and other _et caetera_ of a bostonian fire-alarm,
form a concert truly horrible.
As sleep was impossible under such circumstances, I immediately rose, and
found the town illuminated. When the alarm is given at night, the female
part of the family immediately place candles in the windows. This is of
great service in a town where there are few lamps.
I found the fire had broken out in one of the narrow streets, and was
spreading fast on all sides. I was much pleased with the regularity
observed by these _amateur_ fire-men. Each engine had a double row,
extending to the nearest water; one row passed the full, and the other the
empty buckets. The citizens not employed at the engines were pulling down
the adjacent buildings, or endeavouring to save the furniture; their
behaviour was bold and intrepid. The wind blew fresh at N.W.; and nothing
but such uncommon exertions could possibly have saved the town, composed,
as it is, of such _combustible_ materials. You will naturally inquire,
whether they have no other. Yes, brick and stone in great plenty; but the
cheapness of a frame, or wooden building, is a great inducement for the
continuance of this dangerous practice: but there is one still greater,
viz. a strange idea, universal in America, that wooden houses are more
healthy, and less liable to generate or retain contagious infection than
those of brick or stone. This notion has been ably controverted by one of
their best _writers_[Footnote: Jefferson, vicepresident of the United
States.], but with little effect; and, like all other deep-rooted
prejudices, will not easily be eradicated.
Your papers have, I suppose, informed you of a set of diabolical
incendiaries having set fire to Savannah, Charleston, Baltimore, and New
York. The villainy of these infernals is likely to be productive of some
good. The inhabitants of Charleston have agreed to prohibit the erection
of wooden buildings in that city. The philadelphians had before come to
this prudent resolution, within certain limits, I was present when this
matter was agitated. It was violently opposed by the democratic party; who
insisted, that in a _free_ country, a man has a right to build his
house of what materials he pleases. "True," said I, "of _stone_-brimstone
--use gun-powder for lime, and mix it with spirit of turpentine,"
Farewell.
Yours, &c.
_P.S._ I thank you for the _Apology_. It has been already twice answered
in this country, or rather, the bishop has been as often abused; first, by
a deist of New York, for speaking too _favourably_ of the Bible; and
secondly, by a hot-headed frantic of New England; who, in a work he calls
_The Bible needs no Apology_, rails at his lordship for the _opposite
reason_, and consigns him to eternal damnation, for _not_ insisting on
_every sentence_ of scripture being the _inspired_ word of God.
_Boston, January 7th, 1797._