1900s

Old Hadley Cemetery, Hadley, Massachusetts

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Gravestones at Old Hadley Cemetery, around 1905. Image from History of Hadley (1905).

The scene in 2021:

Hadley was settled by European colonists in 1659, and incorporated as a town in 1661. Around the same time, this burying ground was laid out in a meadow just to the northwest of the town center, with the earliest known burials dating back to 1661. Among these was John Webster (1590-1661), who had served as governor of Connecticut before relocating to Hadley. As was the case for most of the other 17th century burials here, his grave was not marked by a stone, although a monument to him was installed in the cemetery in 1818 by his great-great-great grandson Noah Webster, the famous lexicographer and dictionary author.

The earliest surviving gravestones in the cemetery are two matching tablestones for Rebecca and John Russell. They died in 1688 and 1692, respectively, and their stones were installed in 1693, although they are not visible in this particular scene. Otherwise, though, gravestones were rare here until the 1710s, when Hadley resident Joseph Nash began carving gravestones. He used tan sandstone, and his gravestones were typically small, irregularly shaped, and with crudely-cut lettering. Despite the primitive appearance of the stones, he was evidently popular because his work appears in most of the early burying grounds in the Connecticut River Valley of Massachusetts. Several of his stones are visible in this particular scene, including those of Mehetebel Marsh (1694-1739) on the far right, and Aaron Cook (1641-1716) and Sarah Cook (1644-1730) near the foreground on the far left side.

The two large tablestones in the center of this scene are for Joanna Porter (1665-1713) on the left and her husband Samuel Porter Jr. (1660-1722) on the right. Joanna was the daughter of Aaron and Sarah Cook, and she was also the mother of Mehetebel Marsh, so this was evidently their family plot. Tablestones were relatively uncommon because of the high cost, and were typically only used for clergymen and other prominent town residents. In this case, Samuel Porter was a wealthy merchant, and he also served as a representative in the colonial legislature, and as a judge and county sheriff. The Porter tablestones were not carved by Joseph Nash, as this was likely seen as too costly of a job to leave to a rather amateurish local stonecutter. Instead, these stones appear to have been carved by the Stanclift family in Middletown, Connecticut, who specialized in monuments such as these.

The Mehetebel Marsh gravestone was likely one of the last that Joseph Nash carved before his own death in 1740. By this point, gravestones in Western Massachusetts were starting to become more refined, in part because of an increased number of stones brought up the river from the skilled Middletown-area carvers. Among these was the gravestone of Samuel Porter III (1685-1748), the tall stone just to the right of the tablestones. He was the son of Samuel and Joanna, and although he died less than a decade after his sister Mehetebel, their two gravestones show the vast differences in skill level between local carvers like Nash and the professionally-trained carvers of Middletown. His gravestone was carved by the prominent Johnson family of Middletown, and its design suggests that it may have been carved somewhat later, perhaps in the 1750s or early 1760s.

The carvers from the Johnson family dominated the gravestone business along the Connecticut River Valley during the mid-1700s, but there were also some skilled local carvers who emerged in Western Massachusetts during this period. Foremost among them was Nathaniel Phelps of Northampton, who was active from the 1740s until the 1780s. Aside from Joseph Nash, perhaps no other 18th century carver is better represented here in Hadley, and one of his gravestones stands in the lower center of this scene, marking the grave of Joanna Porter’s brother Samuel Cook (1672-1746). This stone is a close imitation of the Johnson family’s style, but Phelps would subsequently develop his own style, and he occasionally carved highly ornate gravestones that featured full-body figures of angels. Among these was the gravestone of Sarah Porter (1741-1775), the wife of Samuel and Joanna’s grandson Elisha Porter. Her gravestone is visible in the background of this scene; it is the fourth one from the left in the back row.

By the early 19th century, gravestone styles had shifted away from the ornate carvings of the 18th century. Instead, these gravestones tended to either have generic designs of willows and urns, or no images at all. And, rather than sandstone, these 19th century stones were typically carved in slate or marble. Most of these burials were further to the east of the original section of the cemetery, but there are several 19th century marble stones here in the old section, including one in the back row in the distance for Nathaniel Porter (1709-1779). Although he died in 1779, the style of his gravestone suggests that it was probably carved at some point in the first half of the 1800s.

Aside from Nathaniel Porter’s backdated gravestone, perhaps the most recent gravestone in this particular scene is that of Elisha Porter (1742-1796). Like his grandfather Samuel had done many years earlier, Elisha served as sheriff of Hampshire County, and he was also a colonel in the state militia during the American Revolution. His gravestone is carved in marble, and it has a fairly plain design that is decorated only with an urn in the upper part of the stone.

More than a hundred years would pass between Porter’s burial in 1796 and when the first photo was taken at the turn of the 20th century. It is hard to say to what extent this scene changed during that time. Colonial-era burial grounds were often laid out in a somewhat haphazard manner, and during the 19th century many were rearranged into orderly rows of gravestones, often with little concern for whether the stones on the surface corresponded to the remains underground. This was often done for aesthetic reasons or to make maintenance easier, but it seems unclear whether it happened here in Hadley. However, the 18th century gravestones here are all arranged in parallel rows, suggesting that perhaps their positions may have been adjusted at some point.

Today, nearly 120 years after the first photo was taken, the background of this scene has changed significantly. Rather than the open meadows of the first photo, there is now a house directly to the west of the cemetery, with a tall hedge marking the property line. However, here in the foreground the cemetery has remained remarkably unchanged during this time. Sandstone gravestones are often vulnerable to weathering and erosion, and many in the river valley are badly deteriorated, especially those from the Middletown area. Here in Hadley, though, the stones have generally remained well-preserved, and this cemetery is one of the finest colonial-era burial grounds in Western Massachusetts.

Great Gulf, Mount Washington, New Hampshire

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The Great Gulf, seen from just north of the summit of Mount Washington, around 1900. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2021:

These two photos show the view looking north from Mount Washington, with the Great Gulf in the foreground and the summits of the northern Presidential Range beyond it. Mount Washington is the highest peak in New England and the northeastern United States, and it stands at the center of the Presidential Range, a north-south oriented range that contains many other high peaks. The five highest peaks are named after the first five presidents, mostly in descending order of elevation, and each one is higher than any other mountain in the northeast outside of the Presidential Range.

Mount Washington, the highest, is 6,288 feet above sea level. It is followed by Mount Adams (5,774 feet), which is seen on the right side of this scene; Mount Jefferson (5,712 feet) on the left side of the scene; Mount Monroe (5,384 feet) out of view on the opposite side of Mount Washington; and Mount Madison (5,367 feet) on the extreme right-hand side of this scene.

Just out of view in the foreground on the right side is a portion of Mount Washington, which extends to the northeast away from the summit area. That slope of Mount Washington, along with the northern Presidentials in the distance, form the walls of the Great Gulf, a large glacial cirque. There are a number of different cirques around Mount Washington that were formed by glacial activity, including Tuckerman Ravine, Huntington Ravine, and Ammonoosuc Ravine. However, the Great Gulf is by far the largest of these, extended more than two miles in length and over a mile in width.

The first recorded description of the Great Gulf comes from Darby Field in 1642. Although this was still very early in the history of European colonization in New England, and several centuries before recreational hiking became popular in the region, Darby Field and his two Native American guides became the first known people to have climbed Mount Washington. This achievement was considered remarkable enough that John Winthrop, governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, provided a lengthy account of Field’s expedition in his journal. Regarding the final ascent to the summit, Winthrop wrote:

They went divers times through the thick clouds for a good space, and within 4 miles of the top, they had no clouds but very cold. By the way among the rocks, there were two ponds, one a blackish water, and the other reddish. The top of all was plain about 60 feet square. On the north side was such a precipice, as they could scarcely discern to the bottom. They had neither cloud nor wind on the top, and moderate heat. All the country about him seemed a level, except here and there a hill rising above the rest, and far beneath them. He saw to the north, a great water which he judged to be 100 miles broad, but could see no land beyond it.

Although Winthrop’s description was secondhand information at best, the account seems reliable, since it contains information that Field would only have known if he had actually reached the summit. The “two ponds” are likely the Lakes of the Clouds, located along the ridgeline between the summits of Mount Washington and Mount Monroe, and the description of the “plain” at the summit likewise corresponds to reality. And, his description of the Great Gulf also helps to verify the account, since Field would have only known about “such a precipice, as they could scarcely discern to the bottom” if he and his guides had actually stood here at the edge of the Great Gulf headwall.

Aside from Field’s journey, there were very few recorded ascents of Mount Washington during the colonial period. However, this began to change by the early 19th century, as New Englanders began to travel to the White Mountains to experience the scenery here. By 1819 there was a footpath from Crawford Notch to the summit, and this was later followed by a carriage road in 1861 and a cog railway in 1868. The summit area became a seasonal community, with several hotels and even its own newspaper.

However, despite the extensive development on Mount Washington, the other summits on the Presidential Range remained largely untouched, as did the Great Gulf. Visitors were generally happy to admire these scenes from afar, and there were few landscapes that could compete with this view here in these photos. Writing in his 1856 book Incidents in White Mountain History, Benjamin G. Willey provided the following description of this scene:

[G]oing a few rods northward, you come to the brink of an almost unfathomable abyss, known as the Great Gulf. It is a rocky, precipitous descent of two thousand feet. Rising up opposite you from the bottom of this Gulf, almost perpendicularly, is the great range of mountains, comprising Clay, Jefferson, Adams and Madison. This vast range may be seen from their roots to their summits by one standing on the brink. Deep down in the very bottom of the hollow are rough, confused piles of rocks, with narrow and deeply-worn ravines between them. Springing up occasionally, near the very base of the mountain range, are tall spruces, while further up on their sides are birches and small firbushes. Toward the east, the Gulf has an opening, surrounded on all its other sides by mountains.

A few years later, in his 1860 book The White Hills: Their Legends, Landscape, and Poetry, described the scene in even more rapturous language, from an overlook on the nearby carriage road. He wrote:

Yet the glory of the view is, after all, the four highest companion mountains of the range. Clay, Jefferson, Adams, Madison, that show themselves in a bending line beyond the tremendous gorge at the right of the path, absurdly called the ” Gulf of Mexico,” and are visible from their roots to their summits. . . . Except by climbing to the ridge through the unbroken wilderness of the northern side, there is no such view to be had east of the Mississippi of mountain architecture and sublimity. They do not seem to be rocky institutions. Their lines have so much life that they appear to have just leaped from the deeps beneath the soil. We say to ourselves, these peaks are nature’s struggle against petrifaction, the earth’s cry for air.

This scene certainly captivated visitors, but few were adventurous enough to actually descend into this “unfathomable abyss.” Because of its remoteness, the upper reaches of the Gulf escaped large-scale logging, and even the trail builders of the late 1800s tended to avoid the area. A single hiking trail was built through the Gulf as far as Spalding Lake in the lower foreground of these photos, but it did not ascend the headwall of the mountains. Nor did it apparently see much use, because it did not see much subsequent maintenance.

The Great Gulf was still an essentially trailless wilderness when the first photo was taken around 1900, but this would soon change. From 1908 to 1910, Warren W. Hart oversaw the construction of a series of trails in the area, starting with the Great Gulf Trail, which traversed the Gulf, climbed the headwall, and ended near the spot where these two photos were taken. Another trail, named the Six Husbands Trail, was opened to the summit of Mount Jefferson by way of the steep slopes in the right-center of the scene. Two other trails—Adams Slide and the Buttress Trail—climbed Mount Adams, and the Wamsutta and Chandler Brook Trails climbed the northeastern slopes of Mount Washington from the Great Gulf.

At the time, the Great Gulf was still in private hands, but in 1916 it was purchased by the U.S. Forest Service. It subsequently became part of the White Mountain National Forest, and in 1964 it was designated as the Great Gulf Wilderness, which conferred greater protections on the land than other portions of the national forest. As a result, this view from atop the headwall looks essentially the same as it did over 120 years earlier, and in all likelihood it also looks the same as it did over 380 years ago, when Darby Field first described the “precipice” where he could “scarcely discern the bottom.”

Boston Light

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Boston Light on Little Brewster Island in Boston Harbor, around 1906. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2021:

These two photos were not taken from the exact same angle; the first one was probably taken from a boat near the island, while the second one was taken with a telephoto lens from about two miles away on Georges Island. But, they both show essentially the same view of Little Brewster Island, the site of the first lighthouse in the present-day United States and the second-oldest existing lighthouse in the country.

During the colonial era, Boston was one of the most important seaports in British North America. Boston benefited from a large natural harbor, protected from the open ocean by a number of islands and peninsulas, but these same landforms also posed hazards to ships entering and leaving the harbor. So, to protect ships and the lives of their sailors, the first lighthouse in the British colonies was constructed here on Little Brewster Island, a small outcropping near the outer edge of the harbor. It was about 60 feet tall, built of rubble masonry, and it was lit for the first time on September 14, 1716.

The occasion was noted in The Boston News-Letter three days later, with the paper describing:

Boston, By vertue of An Act of Assembly made in the First Year of His Majesty’s Reign, For Building & Maintaining a Light House upon the Great Brewster [sic] (called Beacon Island) at the Entrance of the Harbour of Boston, in order to prevent the loss of the Lives & Estates of His Majesty’s Subjects; The said Light House has been built; And on Fryday last the 14th Currant the Light was kindled, which will be very useful for all Vessels going out and coming in to the Harbour of Boston, or any other Harbours in the Massachusets-Bay, for which all Masters shall pay to the Receiver of Impost, One Peny per Ton Inwards, and another Peny Outwards, except Coasters, who are to pay Two Shillings each, at their clearing Out. And all Fishing Vessels, Wood Sloops, etc. Five Shillings each by the year.

The first lighthouse keeper was George Worthylake, but he would soon become the first American lighthouse keeper to die in the line of duty. On November 3, 1718, he was returning to the lighthouse accompanied by his wife Ann and their daughter Ruth, along with an enslaved man, a servant, and a friend of the family. They took a sloop back to the vicinity of island, then boarded a canoe to make their landing. However, the canoe capsized, and all six people drowned.

Here again, The Boston News-Letter reported the tragedy:

Boston, On Monday last the 3d Currant an awful and Lamentable Providence fell out here, Mr. George Worthylake (Master of the Light-House upon the Great Brewster (called Beacon-Island) at the Entrance of the Harbour of Boston) Anne his Wife, Ruth their Daughter, George Cutler, a Servant, Shadwell their Negro Slave, and Mr. John Edge a Passenger; being on the Lord’s Day here at Sermon, and going home in a Sloop, drop Anchor near the Landing place and all got into a little Boat or Cannoo, designing to go on Shoar, but by Accident it overwhelmed, so that they were Drowned, and all found and Interred except George Cutler.

Although the article does not mention the specific burial place, George, Ann, and Ruth were all buried in Copp’s Hill Burying Ground, beneath a triple headstone that still survives today.

Aside from this article in the News-Letter, other writers covered the event. Perhaps most famously, 12-year-old Benjamin Franklin wrote a ballad, which he titled “The Lighthouse Tragedy.” No copies of the poem are known to survive, but in his autobiography Franklin referenced this and another similar poem that he wrote about Blackbeard, observing that:

They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed he sent me about the town to sell them. The first [the lighthouse poem] sold wonderfully, the event being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most probably a very bad one.

In the meantime, the lighthouse continued in operation under a new keeper, and in 1719 a cannon was installed on the island for use as a fog signal. The tower was badly damaged by a fire in 1751, but it was subsequently repaired and remained in use until the start of the American Revolution. It was ultimately destroyed by the British on July 13, 1776, following their evacuation of Boston several months earlier.

Little Brewster Island remained devoid of a lighthouse for the rest of the American Revolution, but as the war was winding down in 1783 the Massachusetts legislature authorized the funding to construct a new lighthouse here. It was completed by the end of the year, and like its predecessor it was built of rubble masonry. However, it was somewhat taller, standing 75 feet in height. This tower, with some alterations over the years, is still standing today, as shown in the two photos in this post.

The lighthouse was completed prior to the current U.S. Constitution. At the time, the national government had very limited powers, so matters such as lighthouses were the responsibility of the individual states. Under the new Constitution, though, this became a part of the role of the federal government, which took over the operation of Boston Light in 1790.

Over the years, the exterior appearance of the lighthouse changed several times. In 1809, in response to large cracks in the walls, six iron bands were installed around the tower in order to provide additional structural support. Then, in 1859 the height of the tower was increased to 89 feet, and a new second-order Fresnel lens was installed in the lantern. Also during this time, the interior of the tower was lined with brick, and a brick entryway was added to the base of the tower.

By the time the first photo was taken around 1906, the lighthouse was joined by a number of other buildings on the island. Among these were two houses for the lighthouse keepers, along with ancillary structures such as the fog signal, cistern, oil house, and boathouse. The boathouse was situated next to a pier, and it was equipped with a marine railway. At the time, the light station was staffed by a head keeper and two assistant keepers, and they often lived here with their families as well.

Although still in active use as a lighthouse, the importance of Boston Light had diminished somewhat by the time this photo was taken. Around the turn of the 20th century, most large vessels began taking a more northerly channel into Boston Harbor, bypassing the old lighthouse. To accommodate this traffic, a new lighthouse was constructed in 1905 at the Graves, a rocky ledge about three miles to the northeast of Boston Light. This new lighthouse was taller than Boston Light, and it was also equipped with a larger first-order Fresnel lens.

Despite these changes in shipping routes, Boston Light remained an important lighthouse. There were some changes here in 1939, when the U.S. Lighthouse Service was absorbed by the Coast Guard, and there were further changes during World War II, when the light was extinguished for security purposes, although it was relit after the war. Then, in the postwar era, the role of lighthouse keepers started to become redundant, and lighthouses across the country were steadily automated, which eliminated the need for light stations that were staffed full time. However, just as Boston Light was the first lighthouse in the country, it was also the last one to be automated, in 1998.

Today, this scene is still easily recognizable from the first photo more than 115 years later. The large duplex keeper’s house is gone, having been deliberately burned in 1960, and the pier was destroyed during the blizzard of 1978.  Overall, though,  most of the other buildings are still here, including the 1884 keeper’s house, the 1899 boathouse, the 1889 oil house, and the 1876 fog signal building, which now also houses a generator. And, of course, the lighthouse is still here, with few exterior changes aside from the removal of one of the metal bands, leaving only five in its current appearance. It is the second oldest active lighthouse structure in the country, predated only by the 1764 Sandy Hook Light in New Jersey.

Despite being automated in 1998, Boston Light is still staffed by a resident keeper, although this is largely a ceremonial role. Along with most of the other harbor islands, Little Brewster Island is now part of the Boston Harbor Islands National Recreation Area. Unlike some of the larger islands, there is no ferry service or public access to Little Brewster, although the lighthouse can be seen from passing boats, from the mainland in Hull, or from Georges Island, as shown in the present-day photo.

Old Patent Office Building, Washington, DC (2)

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The south entrance to the Old Patent Office Building on F Street NW in Washington, DC, around 1900-1906. Photographed by William Henry Jackson; image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2021:

As explained in the previous post, this building was constructed between 1836 and 1867 as the home of the Patent Office. The oldest section, which opened in 1840, is shown here in the foreground, and it can be distinguished from the rest of the building by its darker-colored sandstone exterior. It was designed by architect Robert Mills in the Greek Revival style, and the entrance here on F Street NW once had a large staircase leading up to the portico, as shown in the first photo.

This staircase was eventually removed in 1936 when the street was widened, but the rest of the building avoided possible demolition in the 1950s, when there had been a proposal to replace it with a parking lot. It was ultimately preserved, was designated as a National Historic Landmark, and it is now the home of the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the National Portrait Gallery.

Old Patent Office Building, Washington, DC

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The Old Patent Office Building, seen from the corner of 7th Street NW and F Street NW in Washington, DC, around 1900. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The building in 2021:

These two photos show the Old Patent Office Building, which was constructed in stages between 1836 and 1867. The building has a roughly rectangular footprint, with a courtyard in the center, and it occupies the entire block between F Street NW, G Street NW, 7th Street NW, and 9th Street NW. It was designed by prominent architect Robert Mills, with a Greek Revival style that was popular for public buildings of this era.

The oldest part of the building is the southern wing, shown here on F Street NW on the left side of the scene. It was completed in 1853, and it can be distinguished from the rest of the structure by the darker-colored sandstone exterior, in contrast to the lighter-colored marble of the later wings on the east and west. This wing originally had a large staircase at the main entrance, as shown in the first photo, but this was removed in 1936 when the street was widened.

The primary purpose for this building was to serve as a repository for models of new inventions, which had to be submitted as part of the patent process. However, the building also served a number of other roles in its early years, including as the home of the Department of the Interior from 1852 to 1917, as a hospital and barracks in the aftermath of the Battle of Antietam in 1863, and as the site of Lincoln’s second inaugural ball in 1865.

The building suffered a major fire in 1877 that caused significant damage to the building and the loss of many patent models, but it was subsequently restored. The Patent Office remained here until 1932, and the building was subsequently occupied by the Civil Service Commission. It was threatened by demolition in the 1950s, but it was ultimately preserved and designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1965. Since 1968, it has been the home of the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the National Portrait Gallery. With the exception of the stairs on the left side, the exterior has remained well-preserved throughout this time, and it stands as perhaps the finest example of Greek Revival architecture in Washington.

Courtyard, Boston Public Library

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The courtyard at the Boston Public Library’s McKim Building, around 1909. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library.

The scene in 2021:

The main branch of the Boston Public Library is one of the city’s great architectural landmarks, and one of its most distinctive features is this courtyard in the middle of the building. Architect Charles Follen McKim modeled it after the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome, and has arcaded walkways on three sides, with a balcony on the fourth side and a pool and fountain in the center.

The library was completed in 1895, and the following year this fountain was very briefly the home of Bacchante and Infant Faun, a bronze sculpture by Frederick William MacMonnies. Cast in 1894, this statue features a nude reveler holding grapes above her head in her right hand, with a young child under her left arm. MacMonnies gave the statue to McKim as a gift, and he in turn presented it to the Boston Public Library for display here in the courtyard.

However, this decision sparked considerable controversy here in Boston, with critics objecting to both its gratuitous nudity and its apparent celebration of drunkenness. It was the subject of debate for several months leading up to its installation under the cover of darkness on the night of November 14, 1896. It was made available for public viewing two days later, with many praising its artistic merit while others denounced it as immoral.

Among the latter was the Reverend James Boyd Brady, pastor of the People’s Temple. Preaching his Sunday sermon the day before the statue was presented to the public, Brady decried it as “an infernal representation of strumpetry” and “a statue of smut and obscenity,” and declared that he would rather see a memorial to Benedict Arnold or John Wilkes Booth than “a memorial to the worst type of harlotry with which the earth was ever afflicted.” He was particularly concerned about the statue corrupting the morals of the youth, because “the innocent and the chaste will get their first intimations of vice” from this statue.

Despite—or perhaps because of—the months of controversy, the statue drew quite a crowd when it was finally put on public display on November 16. Reporting the next day, the Boston Globe noted that, at any given time, there was a crowd of around 200 people gathered here to view the statue. The newspaper went on to describe:

There were all sorts among the visitors, the connoisseur, or the man or woman whom everybody else thought must be a connoisseur because he or she presumed to compare the bronze woman’s curves with other nude celebrities, the clergyman looking possibly for a text, the stout woman with the lorgnette, the girl with her drawing materials who spends her days in front of De Chavanne’s and Abbey’s mural decorations, students of both sexes galore, down to the man who simply “knew a good shape” when he saw one.

Based on the Globe’s coverage, the opinion among the visitors seems to have been generally favorable. The article included several amusing anecdotes of reactions from various people, including one “very little man, not a connoisseur, but a practical thinker,” who did not understand what all the fuss was about. Knowing that one of the main objections was the portrayal of drunkenness, the man carefully studied the statue and concluded that the woman was not, in fact, intoxicated. He explained his reasoning:

Well, I don’t know nothing about her, but I tell you that she didn’t [get drunk]. Look at the way she’s standing. A woman couldn’t drink much wine and balance herself and the kid the way she’s doing, with her best foot up in the air. She’s all right, I tell you. I’ve seen ‘em.

The statue continued to draw crowds over the next two weeks, including one particularly busy Sunday afternoon on November 22, when an estimated ten thousand people came to see the statue between 2:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. As was the case on the first day, many visitors saw the statue as harmless, with the Globe quoting one woman who observed that it was no worse than the artwork on display next door at the Museum of Fine Arts. The Globe even mentioned how there were mothers who brought young children to see the statue, despite the corrupting influence that some feared it would have.

These generally favorable reactions among visitors did little to mollify the statue’s critics, though. Reverend Brady continued to be particularly vocal in his opposition. Speaking a week after the statue went on display, he feared that “Many an innocent girl, in a giddy mood, will look upon it and decide that the way to enjoyment and admiration is to throw away morality.” He went on to direct his anger at the library’s trustees, declaring:

Listen, if there is any one here that represents these trustees and art commissioners! I charge them with treason, treason, treason! And no petty treason, but high treason—treason to purity and sobriety and virtue and Almighty God.

The statue ultimately remained here in the courtyard for just two weeks, before being removed for the winter. This was not done in response to the criticism, but instead to protect it from the weather. The intent was to reinstall it in the spring, but over the winter the opposition only intensified, and McKim eventually decided to withdraw his gift in April 1897. The statue remained in storage at the library for several more months, but McKim subsequently offered it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. The museum accepted the gift, and the statue was moved out of Boston in June. For a time, it was located in the Great Hall, as shown in this earlier post, but it is now on display in the Engelhard Court, as shown in this 2023 photo:

In the meantime, the first photo here in this post was taken about 13 years after all of this controversy had been resolved, and it shows the courtyard looking diagonally across from the northwest corner. The pool is visible on the left side of the scene, but it has just a simple fountain in the space where the statue had very briefly stood in November 1896.

Today, more than a century after the first photo was taken, the courtyard of the Boston Public Library remains largely unchanged. It continues to be a quiet place to read and reflect in the midst of a busy city, while also serving as a venue for everything from musical performances to weddings. However, the one major difference between these two photos is the statue in the fountain, which is a replica of the Bacchante and Infant Faun statue that had generated so much controversy. By the early 1990s, the library had begun expressing interest in returning the statue to its original location here. The Metropolitan Museum of Art balked at this idea, so the library instead commissioned this replica, which was installed in 1999.