Robert Treat Paine Papers, Volume 2

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From Samuel Quincy

Quincy, Samuel RTP

After Jan. 24, 1764 Is Harvard burnt?1 Oh dolefull Tiding! To burn in all this dreadfull riding, When even Sailors could not trudge Through Snow to help, nor even budge From Doxy or from Can of Flip, To save the pretty little Ship, The Goddess whom they all adore; As well as twenty Knick Knacks more. 'Tis well that White retain'd his Vigour: Why did not White himself unrig her? One Rope of her had been a Relick At last 'thad serv'd to fix a Kellick. But so it is! even White himself Ne'er sav'd one Book from off its Shelf; Not even Aquinas nor Duns Scotus; Either had been in Uno totus. Stoughton & Massachusetts you tell He sav'd, an Action merely futile, And Hollis Hall & Holden Chapel, 288 Together all we'rnt worth an Apple: Whats Holden Chapel or old Stoughton, But Wind fall'n Apples, one half rotten? Or ev'en the lofty Massachusetts? Harvard was worth of that full two Setts. But why repine? there's now no help for't, Its not worth while for us to Yelp for't, The Books are gone, the Books with Back gilt, All gone, burnt with the House that Jack built. Alass the Loss! no mortal Tongue Had half its Value said or sung. Rub, scratch your Memory 'till it itches To recollect the hugeous Riches Sunk in the Ruins of this Pile, Which made eke Church and State to smile Above an hundred Years, yea twenty More, in which there has been Plenty Of Parsons, Lawyers, great and small Who've issued out from Harvard Hall. There's first, the Bones of Matthew Cushing,2 Hang'd for against a Window pushing, And taking out a Pair of Breeches, That in them had scarce twenty Stiches. Mourn, mourn ye Surgeons, all undone! Not one Rule left to set a Bone. The Sinciput & Occiput too And ev'ry little Bone in Foot too, The Astragalus, Coxendix, Sternum, The Fire Provincial did burn them. Where's Moses Incense Chain and Box, That's had so many Thumps and Knocks From Hereticks and Orthodox? That had't not been for Miracle Its Fate e'er this no Tongue could tell; But Moses nor the Incense Savour, Will Flames so furious ever Favour. The Thunder Bolt altho' a true one The Tin Man now must make a new one. 289 The Negro's Hide too's burn't to Ashes That had so many Cuts and Slashes: That Loss is easily made good; For Blacks enough the whip have stood, Their Hides are curry'd to their Cost, Enough to make up what is lost. King Philip too will be forgot, His Memory with his Body rot, Unless some Hewer shape another Club, to supply the Place of to'ther, And fix our Faith with Knotches many: And then 'twill be as good as any. Poor Lots Wife! is she gone at last! Of whom so many 'ye had a Taste? And lick'd her o'er and o'er again And yet her bulk could still retain? Such licking serv'd but just to polish her: The Fire made no bones to demolish her. Dispatch, ye Virtuosi, haste, There's not a Moment now to waste; To Cales or else to Saltertudas, Columbus hath a short way shew'd us There's Salt enough for Wives a Thousand For Lot and ye, and fill your House and Stores with Plenty for a Sale When Scarcity shall e'er prevail. The Cuckolds Cape and Horn are lost, Which many a grave Spectator cost A heavy Sigh, to see the Fate That must befall him soon or late. Unlucky Time! Caps so much wanted; And Caps, on which such Horns are planted. Some mourn the great long Neck'd Flemingo: But Sailors often swear by Jingo, Africks hot Sands afford enough Such Birds, whose Skins will do to Stuff. The Goose that sav'd the Capitol His cronkings done for good and all; 290 But Courage Virtuosi! cease now Your Lamentations, all is Peace now; When War again does show its Head, There's Geese enough, alive, not dead. Or how came this funereal Pyre, And Folks enough to Quench the Fire. What Havock 'mongst the Mice, Rats, Weazells, And Butlers Stores which by weight he sells? Alass! the Weazells, Mice, and Rats Hung in terror,' in Room of Cats, To save Duns Scotus and Aquinas, Who look'd in Miniature as fine as Old Doctor Ames or any other In Days of Yore, who made such Pother. But of such Vermin still there's Plenty; Instead of one, then hang up twenty, They'll still serve Purpose in terrorem If e'er their Brethren come before them. Oh had Goliah's Sword been saved! The Sword scarce big enough for David, Some Antiquarian surely wou'd Have purchas'd it, as Price of Blood, And shewn it as the true blue Blade The Cutter for Goliah made, And pass'd for Truth both Lye and all, With Vulgar great and Vulgar small. Mourn above all! ah Mourn the Fate of Sitting long and sitting late, Desunt ecetera And always go to Bed by eight But now to put You out of Pain, The other Things I'll let remain, And Treat you next with something better When 'eer I undertake a Letter. And let us both try hard mean time To find for Robert a good Rhime. Od'so I've hit it: Monsieur Maubert Who tells French News, will rhime to Robert But what I most of all admire, Are Words that Jingle to Esquire.

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RC ; endorsed in the hand of Charles Cushing Paine "Poem on Harvard burnt to R.T.P." The handwriting is that of Samuel Quincy.

Samuel Eliot Morison in his Three Centuries of Harvard, 1636–1936 (Cambridge, Mass., 1936), 95–96, writes: "A few days after the opening of Hollis Hall, on the night of January 24, 1764, occurred the worst disaster in the history of the College—the burning of Old Harvard Hall. It was winter vacation, and the building was being used for sesssions sessions of the General Court during a smallpox epidemic in Boston. A fire left burning overnight in the library got into the floor-beams, and before anything was suspected the whole building was in flames. A northeast snowstorm was raging at the time. President Holyoke (aged seventy-five) and Governor Bernard personally directed the townspeople and members of the General court in the work of rescue.... The most they could do with heavy snow on the ground, and only well-water in buckets available for an extinguisher, was to save Hollis. The entire library of five thousand volumes, excepting some two hundred that were lent out at the time, was consumed; the whole philosophical apparatus, the portraits of presidents, benefactors, Duns Scotus, and Keckermann, were burnt up; the stuffed animals and birds, models of the Boston man-of-war, piece of tanned negro's hide, 'Skull of a Famous Indian Warrior,' and in fact the entire 'Repositerry of Curiosities,' were seen no more."

The Boston Gazette of Jan. 30, 1764 carried a fairly detailed list of the losses of books and apparatus. An account of the rebuilding of Harvard Hall written by F. Apthorp Foster is in Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts, 14:2–43.

Matthew Cushing, convicted of burglary, was executed on Boston Neck on Sept. 24, 1734. Broadsides relating to his execution are listed in Worthington C. Ford, "Broadsides, Ballards &c Printed in Massachusetts, 1639–1800," Mass. Hist. Soc. Collections 75(1922):61–62.

From Samuel Quincy

Quincy, Samuel RTP

Braintree Feby. 16, 1764 Bror. Paine,

Last October Court, you may remember, I sent a Writ Gould vs Nye, which was Served & the money paid to The Sheriff, as He himself informed me by Letter & promised to send it to me by the first Oppo. since which have heard nothing from him. I have mislaid his Lr: & forgot his name. As you forwarded the Writ for me, you know The Officer & I shd: therefore be glad you wd. enquire about The Affair & if you can procure & send me the Money. I suppose The Officer has The Writ Still in his Possession & by that you'l know the Sum. Your Care herein will much oblige Your Friend & Bror.

SAML. QUINCY

RC ; addressed: "To Rob. Treat Paine Esqr. at Taunton"; endorsed.

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