By Edward P. Guild.
The outline of Boston harbor somewhat resembles a very irregular
letter C, with its open side facing to the north-east. The upper horn
terminates with Point Shirley, in the town of Winthrop. The lower horn
is a narrow ridge of land of varying width, extending four miles from
the mainland, then abruptly turning to the westward for three miles.
This peninsula is the town of Hull; the sharp elbow is Point Allerton.
The stretch of four miles from the point to the mainland is of greatly
varying width, the harbor side being of most irregular and fantastic
outline; but the side toward the sea is smooth and even, and forms
Nantasket Beach,--one of the most popular watering-places on the
Atlantic coast.
The development of Nantasket as a summer resort began a long time ago,
although the era of large hotels and popular excursions began in the
last few years. Forty or fifty vears ago people from Boston, Dorchester,
Hingham, and other towns, when hungering for a sniff of unalloyed
sea-breeze, or a repast of the genuine clam-chowder, were in the habit
of resorting to this beach, where they could pitch their tents, or
find accommodations in the rather humble cottages which were already
beginning to dot the shore. That the delights of the beach were
appreciated then is evinced by the habitual visits of many noted men of
the time, among them Daniel Webster, who often came here for recreation,
usually bringing his gun with him that he might indulge his sporting
proclivities; and, according to his biographer, "he was a keen
sportsman. Until past the age of sixty-five he was a capital shot; and
the feathered game in his neighborhood was, of course, purely wild. He
used to say, after he had been in England, that shooting in 'preserves'
seemed to him very much like going out and murdering the barn-door
fowl. His shooting was of the woodcock, the wild-duck, and the various
marsh-birds that frequent the coast of New England.... Nor would he
unmoor his dory with his 'bob and line and sinker,' for a haul of cod or
hake or haddock, without having Ovid, or Agricola, or Pharsalia, in the
pocket of his old gray overcoat, for the 'still and silent hour' upon
the deep."
Another frequent visitor--Peter Peregrine--wrote: "The Nantasket Beach
is the most beautiful I ever saw. It sweeps around in a majestic curve,
which, if it were continued so as to complete the circle, would of
itself embrace a small sea. There was a gentle breeze upon the water,
and the sluggish waves rolled inward with a languid movement, and broke
with a low murmur of music in long lines of foam against the opposite
sands. The surface of the sea was, in every direction, thickly dotted
with sails; the air was of a delicious temperature, and altogether it
was a scene to detain one for hours."
Evidently, Peter was a lover of nature at the sea-side; but to show that
those who sojourned here forty years ago were not unexposed to ridicule,
the following extract is given from a letter written from Hull in 1846:
"The public and private houses at Nantasket are overrun with company,
chiefly from Boston. Some of our fashionable people, as the rich are
vulgarly called, will leave their airy, cool, well-appointed
establishments in Boston, with every luxury the market affords, in the
vain hope of finding comfort in such houses. They will leave their city
palaces, the large and convenient rooms, comfortable bedsteads and
mattresses, and all the delicacies of the season, and submit to being
stowed away on straw-beds or cots, even upon the floor, half-a-dozen in
a small chamber, or four deep in an entry, to be half-starved into the
bargain upon badly cooked fish and other equally cheap commodities, for
the mere sake of being able to think that they are enjoying the
sea-breeze." Had the writer of this satire lived to lodge for a night in
one of the palace hotels which now adorn Nantasket Beach he would have
sung another song.
The peninsula of Hull is graced by three gentle elevations,--Atlantic
Hill, a rocky eminence marking the southern limit of the beach; Sagamore
Hill, a little farther to the north; and Strawberry Hill, about midway
to Point Allerton. The last of these elevations is the most noted of
the three. On its summit is an old barn, which is not only a well-known
landmark for sea-voyagers, but a point of the triangulations of the
official harbor surveys. In 1775 a large barn, containing eighty tons
of hay, was burned on this spot by the Americans, that it might not be
secured by the British. The splendid scene which this fire must have
produced was doubtless applauded with even more enthusiasm than the
great illuminations which are now a part of each season's events at the
beach.
It is said that fierce conflicts among the savages used to often occur
on the plains extending toward Point Allerton, before these parts were
invaded by the white man. The theory has arisen from the finding of
large numbers of skulls, bones, arrows, tomahawks, and other relics in
this locality.
The trip to Nantasket from Boston by boat on a summer day is most
delightful, affording a sail of an hour among the most interesting
objects of Boston harbor. The point of departure is at Rowe's wharf,
near the foot of Broad street, where the passenger steps on board one of
the well-equipped steamers of the Boston and Hingham Steamboat Company.
The course down to Nix's Mate, and thence to Pemberton, is quite
straight, but the route the remainder of the way, especially after
entering Weir river, is so tortuous as to cause the passenger to
constantly believe that the boat is just going to drive against the
shore. Upon the arrival at Nantasket pier the passenger is aware that he
is at a popular resort. Barges and coaches line the long pier; ambitious
porters give all possible strength of inflection to the names of their
respective hotels; while innumerable _menu_ cards are thrust into
the visitors' hands, each calling particular attention to the chowders
of the ------ House as being the best to be had on the New England
coast.
Two minutes' walk is sufficient to cross from the steamboat-pier over
the narrow ridge of land to the beach. The difference between one side
and the other is very striking. On the one is the still, dark water of
Weir river; on the other, the open sea and the rolling surf. The beach
at once impresses the visitor as being remarkably fine, and, indeed, it
is equalled by none on the coast, unless, possibly, by Old Orchard. The
sands are hard and firm, and at low tide form a spacious boulevard for
driving or walking. Before the eye is the open sea, dotted here and
there with glistening sails. The long, dark vessel which appears in the
distance, about four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, is a Cunard steamer,
which has just left East Boston for its voyage to Liverpool. For two or
three hours it is in sight, slowly and majestically moving toward the
horizon.
The scene on the beach is in marked contrast to what might have been
witnessed a generation ago. Then one would have found here and there
a family group just driven down in the old-fashioned carryall, and
enjoying a feast of clam-chowder cooked over a fire of drift-wood. Now
the beach is thronged by crowds of many thousands; immense hotels vie
with those of the metropolis in grandeur; there are avenues and parks,
flying horses, tennis-grounds, shops for the sale of everything that the
city affords, and some that it does not, dog-carts and goat-wagons,
fruit and peanut-stands, bowling-alleys, shooting-targets, and, in fact,
as many devices to empty the pocket-book as are usually found at a
cattle-show and a church-fair together. An excursion party has just
arrived, but this occurs, sometimes, several times in a day,--for
Nantasket is a Mecca to the excursionist. Societies and lodges come
here; clubs resort hither for a social dinner; mercantile firms send
their employés on an annual sail to this place, and philanthropists
provide for hundreds of poor children a day's outing on this beach.
Thus, there is no exclusiveness about Nantasket; but, at the same time,
the tone of the place is excellent, and there seems to be no tendency
toward its falling into disrepute, as has been the case with other
very popular watering-places. It is, in fact, admitted by a New York
newspaper that "Bostonians are justly proud of Nantasket Beach, where
one can get cultured clams, intellectual chowder, refined lager, and
very scientific pork and beans. It is far superior to our monotonous
sand-beach in its picturesqueness of natural beauty, in the American
character of the visitors, and in the reasonableness of hotel charges,
as well as the excellence of the service."
The oldest of the large hotels now in existence at the beach is the
Rockland House, which was opened in 1854 by Colonel Nehemiah Ripley, who
was proprietor for many years. At first, it had forty rooms; it now has
about two hundred, and is beautifully furnished. It stands at the head
of a broad, rising lawn, and from its balconies and windows the view of
the sea is magnificent. It is now in the hands of Russell & Sturgis, who
are also proprietors of the Hotel Nantasket,--the most effective in its
architecture of any of the great houses here. Its towers and pinnacles
are numbered by the score, and it has the broadest of piazzas. In front
of the hotel, toward the water, is the band-stand from which Reeve's
celebrated band gives two concerts daily during the season, their
entrancing music mingling with the monotone of the surf, to the delight
of large audiences which assemble on the piazzas.
The Rockland Café, also under the same management, is joined to the
hotel by a long arcade, and enjoys an excellent reputation for its
chowders and fish dinners.
The Atlantic House, which crowns the hill of the same name, is a
spacious and elegant hotel, always filled during the season with guests,
including many of the representatives of wealth and culture in the
metropolis. The view from here is very grand, commanding the entire
beach and a vast expanse of the sea. The proprietors are L. Damon &
Sons.
Bathing is, naturally enough, a prominent feature of Nantasket's
attractions. Bath-houses are scattered all along the beach, where one
may, for a small sum,--fifty to two-hundred per cent. of its
value,--obtain the use of a suit for as long a time as he or she may
choose to buffet the waves of the briny Atlantic. The most appreciative
patrons of the surf seem to be the children, who are always ready to
pull off shoes and stockings, and, armed with a wooden pail and shovel,
amuse themselves with digging sand, and letting the surf break over
their feet. It is very evident that not a few older people envy the
children in this innocent amusement.
It is said that the life of the hotels and the drift of excursionists,
great as they appear, are falling into the background, while the
popularity of cottage life is rapidly on the increase. This plan is much
more economical than boarding at the highest-price hotels, although
those who have ample means find a summer spent at either the houses of
Russell & Sturgis, or at the hostelry of Damon & Sons, most eminently
satisfactory in every respect. New cottages spring up like mushrooms
every year from one end of the beach to the other, and they represent
every style of architecture, although Queen Anne is held responsible for
the most frequent style as yet. But in size, coloring, and expense the
cottages vary as widely as the tastes and wealth of their several
owners. "There are big houses and little; houses like the Chinese
pagodas in old Canton blue-ware; houses like castles, with towers and
battlements; houses like nests, and houses like barracks; houses with
seven gables, and houses with none at all."
During the heavy easterly gales of winter seaweed and kelp are washed
ashore in great quantities. This is carted off by the farmers, who find
it valuable as a fertilizer, and they are indebted to the sea for
thousands of dollars' worth of this product every year. Nantasket in
winter presents a gloomy contrast to its life and gayety in the summer.
The winds are cold and fierce. The pretty cottages are deserted, and the
sea moans with a sound betokening peril to the craft that ventures to
tempt the waves. The nearly buried timbers of old vessels that are seen
in the sands are relics of disaster in years gone by.
But in the summer months, Nantasket must ever remain a sea-side paradise
to those who know its attractions.
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