Installment Five - October 25, 2012Lexington? A fashion nexus?! Well, our town probably never was that, nor will it ever be. Nonetheless, Lexingtonians down the ages have dressed up and dressed down, placed themselves squarely on the cutting edge of chic or resolutely ignored the tides of what’s in and what’s out. Fall 2012 has become the season for Lexington fashion, first with the wearable art boutique “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Fashion,” then the debut of the original musical fashion revue “Breeches, Bloomers, and Bellbottoms – Oh My!,” and finally the fantabulous November “Musket Ball.”
Since we’re taking all this time to collect, create, look at, celebrate, reminisce about, wonder over, and – finally – just plain wear all of this fashion from different eras, this seems to be the right moment to share a collection of fashion history rooted in Lexington. In 1812, 18-year-old Caira Robbins undertook her first trip to New York City. She would never forget this trip and, in subsequent decades, she shared the wonder of the experience with a rapt audience of nieces. Caira could not share snapshots, nor a Flickr gallery, nor could she use Google Earth satellite images to zero in on the sites she saw. Instead, she told her tale through the clothing she made for the trip. That was more than enough for her star-struck audience, who viewed her as something of a fashion icon, a typical role for a favorite aunt who seems more like a sister. This clothing survives to this day. Her great-niece Ellen A. Stone, who earned a place in Lexington memory as an early female politician and philanthropist, saved this and many other special Robbins family heirlooms. Stone donated a vast store of family treasures to the Museum of Fine Arts, the Essex Institute (now the Peabody Essex Museum), Ipswich Historical Society (Ipswich’s Whipple House is now a Historic New England property), and the Lexington Historical Society. Thanks to the MFA’s wonderful online collection, we can see some of Caira’s storied Manhattan finery. She wore a loose, high-waisted salmon pink dress of lutestring silk, glossy and very fine. We will have to imagine its a rounded neck and short sleeves, as the MFA has not posted its picture. Thank goodness for accessories! This gown shone in its simplicity, but also through the pairing with a hat, pink slippers, silk stockings, and mitts. All of these can be seen above. Through them, we can sense the airy and ethereal style of the eighteen-teens, the essence of Federal fashion. Caira Robbins had clearly planned to make a splash in New York City; she sewed the gown herself and purchased the hat and shoes in Boston, as their labels tell us. Since she kept these special items of clothing after they fell out of fashion, they clearly embodied treasured memories. These, in turn, she could convey to younger listeners, who understood the wonder of clothing, and shared her triumph. Alice Morse Earle, an early historian of costume and material culture, wrote in her Two Centuries of Costume in America, MDCXX –MDCCCXX: “[O]ld garments! these bring us very close to those who have been gone for centuries.” What if we did not know the story behind these pieces? Perhaps we could learn something about the fashion of the era. In order to grasp the feelings that the clothes evoked in those who wore them, we need to retell the stories associated with them – as Earle does. The Robbins family collection consists not only of finery, but also of stained tablecloths, darned socks, and many tiny scraps of fabric. You can explore them at the MFA website by entering “Ellen A. Stone” into the online collections search bar. I am creating an online gallery of Robbins family textiles as a way of exploring 18thand 19th century textile use in Lexington. If you are interested in dropping in on my ongoing explorations, you can access the gallery by clicking here. To learn more about Caira Robbins, read excerpts from her letters and diaries in the Proceedings of the Lexington Historical Society, Vol. 4. She is featured in Lexington author Mary E. Keenan’s recent In Haste, Julia, about the equally interesting Julia Robbins Barrett, niece to Caira and aunt to Ellen. Caira’s portrait is held by the Lexington Historical Society and can be seen in Dean Lahikainen’s Lexington Portraits. Ellen A. Stone’s family legacy and her donations to various preservation organizations are described in great detail by Jane Cayford Nylander’s article “Preserving a Legacy” in Simons and Benes, The Art of Family: Genealogical Artifacts in New England. The Historic New England website offers a shorter version of the article. |
Museum of Fine Arts. Gift of Miss Ellen A. Stone.
|
Installment Four - July 22, 2012
The “Other” Colonial-Era Road in Lexington
It’s hard to miss the Battle Road, the road that led the colonies to revolution. In Lexington, the Battle Road is today’s Massachusetts Avenue, known in 1775 as the Bay Road, the Country Road, etc. We can explore the historic route of the Regulars’ march to Concord using the Battle Road Trail, or we can anticipate the full realization of the Battle Road Scenic Byway. If we are feeling especially clever, we can explore the route of Paul Revere’s Ride.
Before the age of turnpikes, stagecoaches, and “easy” travel was ushered in in the 1790’s, the Bay Road was not always the preferred route to the commercial mecca that was Boston. Lexington lay historian Michael Canavan
relates that 18th-century Lexingtonians sometimes even preferred to trade with Salem over Boston. Why? The Charles River presented a barrier that, for a long time, could only be crossed via an expensive ferry. It wasn’t until 1793 that the Massachusetts General Court passed an act to build a public bridge over the Charles. To avoid tolls, people could use another road that reached the Boston Neck via Watertown. Canavan and Edwin B. Worthen call this route the Oxbow Road. It was first laid out in 1660 by the Massachusetts General Court, following the course of a Native American route – and we can still find traces of this 17th century road in Lexington today. It extended along what are now Mill Street, Stage Road, Lincoln Street, Shade Street, Cutler Farm in Hayden Woods, Concord Road and Ricci's Lane to Bow Street in Waltham and on to Watertown.
It’s hard to miss the Battle Road, the road that led the colonies to revolution. In Lexington, the Battle Road is today’s Massachusetts Avenue, known in 1775 as the Bay Road, the Country Road, etc. We can explore the historic route of the Regulars’ march to Concord using the Battle Road Trail, or we can anticipate the full realization of the Battle Road Scenic Byway. If we are feeling especially clever, we can explore the route of Paul Revere’s Ride.
Before the age of turnpikes, stagecoaches, and “easy” travel was ushered in in the 1790’s, the Bay Road was not always the preferred route to the commercial mecca that was Boston. Lexington lay historian Michael Canavan
relates that 18th-century Lexingtonians sometimes even preferred to trade with Salem over Boston. Why? The Charles River presented a barrier that, for a long time, could only be crossed via an expensive ferry. It wasn’t until 1793 that the Massachusetts General Court passed an act to build a public bridge over the Charles. To avoid tolls, people could use another road that reached the Boston Neck via Watertown. Canavan and Edwin B. Worthen call this route the Oxbow Road. It was first laid out in 1660 by the Massachusetts General Court, following the course of a Native American route – and we can still find traces of this 17th century road in Lexington today. It extended along what are now Mill Street, Stage Road, Lincoln Street, Shade Street, Cutler Farm in Hayden Woods, Concord Road and Ricci's Lane to Bow Street in Waltham and on to Watertown.
In this map, available in the Edwin B. Worthen Collection at Cary Memorial Library, we see the Watertown Road heading off to the west from the center of town. That is not Waltham Street, which was laid out in the nineteenth century. Lexington’s Comprehensive Cultural Resources Survey, a great source for the history of our town’s landscape and structures, traces the remains of the route that are accessible to us today. Look for Mill Street, between Lincoln and Lexington, with its wonderful underpass under Rte. 128. As you visit this section of
road, try to imagine the landscape without the Cambridge Reservoir, which was completed in 1910. Strike from your mind’s eye Rte. 128. Can you see this rolling fertile farming landscape? This area of Lexington was of course originally part of Cambridge and abutted both Concord and Watertown.
Old Shade St., a part of which still exists south of Rte. 2, was part of
Lexington’s road network until the rebuilding of Rte. 2 in the early ‘60’s disrupted this section of the Oxbow Road forever. Here, we encounter wooded acreage, but the remnants of stone walls tell us that this was originally open
farmland, which flowed seamlessly from the areas now taken up by the reservoir and the interstate.
The narrow path cut by today’s Allen Street gives us some sense of the dimension of the old road. However, we can do better. Believe it or not, there is a small stretch of this old road preserved on the Western Greenway. It is set away from modern roadways, so we can actually walk it unencumbered by traffic. The roadbed is about 2 rods wide, enough for a two-wheeled cart to pass safely, and is bordered on each side by stone walls.
Old Shade St., a part of which still exists south of Rte. 2, was part of
Lexington’s road network until the rebuilding of Rte. 2 in the early ‘60’s disrupted this section of the Oxbow Road forever. Here, we encounter wooded acreage, but the remnants of stone walls tell us that this was originally open
farmland, which flowed seamlessly from the areas now taken up by the reservoir and the interstate.
The narrow path cut by today’s Allen Street gives us some sense of the dimension of the old road. However, we can do better. Believe it or not, there is a small stretch of this old road preserved on the Western Greenway. It is set away from modern roadways, so we can actually walk it unencumbered by traffic. The roadbed is about 2 rods wide, enough for a two-wheeled cart to pass safely, and is bordered on each side by stone walls.
Since the early 20th century, this section of road has been known as Ricci Lane, after a family that farmed there. Today, Ricci's Lane runs through the
Lot 1 property of the former Middlesex County Hospital campus. Built as a tuberculosis sanatorium, the
hospital closed in 2001, while its extensive campus
passed into the hands of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The Massachusetts Department
of Conservation and Recreation preserves the landscape as an extension of the Beaver Brook North Reservation. Using the map available at the Western Greenway website, you can explore this section of ancient roadway. Park at Falzone Field on Trapelo Road in Waltham and walk a short distance down Bow St. to
access the path. Enjoy this elusive scrap of town landscape history!
Lot 1 property of the former Middlesex County Hospital campus. Built as a tuberculosis sanatorium, the
hospital closed in 2001, while its extensive campus
passed into the hands of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The Massachusetts Department
of Conservation and Recreation preserves the landscape as an extension of the Beaver Brook North Reservation. Using the map available at the Western Greenway website, you can explore this section of ancient roadway. Park at Falzone Field on Trapelo Road in Waltham and walk a short distance down Bow St. to
access the path. Enjoy this elusive scrap of town landscape history!
Installment Three - April 1, 2012
While I was working on last month’s post to this website, I ran across the following 1776 newspaper item. (This is where I found it.) From: New England Chronicle (Boston), Thursday, January 18, to Thursday, January 25, 1776
FIFTEEN DOLLARS Reward.
RUN AWAY from Col. Jonathan Moulton of Hampton in the colony of New Hampshire, in October last, a negro boy named Cato, about 18 years old, and about 5 feet and an half high, or something more; a more likely strait limb'd, well built and active a boy is seldom to be seen, and plays well on a fife ; he is very apt to scowl, or knit his brows, and has had the small-pox by inoculation, which he shows but little in his face, but the place on his arm where he was inoculated is plain to be discovered. Since he ran away he was taken up at Durham, and in conveying him to his master he made his escape; since that he was at headquarters, and offered to inlist, but not meeting with success, he went from thence to Lexington, where he offered his service to Mr. John Buckman, innholder in that town, and called himself Elijah Bartlet, and said that he was free born; Mr. Buckman suspecting him to be a runaway, which the boy perceiving, he stopped but a few days, and went off privately, which was some time in November last, and his master has had no intelligence of him since. He had on when he went away, a blue duffel round jacket, with cuff, and without lining, a blue large jacket, both almost new, and a pair of leather breeches, and carried with him 3 check shirts, 2 of which were cotton & woolen, and the other linen, with large checks, &c, but it appears he has exchanged some of his outside cloaths for other of another colour. Whoever will take him said runaway and convey him to his master, or secure him in any way of the colony goals, so that his master can have him again, shall have fifteen dollars, and all necessary charges paid by JONA. MOULTON.
Hampton, January 1, 1776
N. B. As the boy was born at New-York, and from some other reasons it's likely he is thence making his way ; but it's more likely he will offer himself to work by the month or year, in some part of the colony of Massachusetts Bay or Connecticut, and whoever may have the opportunity of taking up said runaway is cautioned to take particular care lest he makes his escape again as he is so artful and cunning a boy.
Col. Moulton’s advertisement provides a vivid portrait of a young man whom we otherwise would not meet in the historical records. It also reminds us of the searingly difficult position of enslaved people in 18th century New England. Cato, as Moulton called him, had absented himself from his owner’s household in Hampton, New Hampshire, apparently in the hope of making a new life for himself. He must have know how hard this would be. His intent may have been to join the Continental Army, which had recently been re-opened for free African-American volunteers. If Cato had been free-born like Barzillai Lew, who lived in Dracut and Chelmsford, he could have put the talents Moulton recognized in him to use in his local militia. (Lew’s wife, Dinah Lew – who was born into slavery in Lexington as Dinah Bowman – lists for us Lew’s military record in her documentation of her right to an army pension, as well as telling us of the family she raised with her husband.)
However, runaway slaves were not eligible for service. We know that a substantial number of enslaved men entered fought in New England militia troops alongside free colonists in 1775. Prince Estabrook is a well-known and honored example from our own town of Lexington. In these cases, enslaved men were sent into service as a substitute for the head of household or his son. In some cases, these men may have requested and received permission to go to war. Although tradition often has it that slaves returning from war were given their freedom by owners grateful for their service, the more prosaic truth seems to be that these men used what funds they could retain from their soldiers’ pay to purchase their own freedom.
But to return to “Mr. John Buckman”and the young “Elijah Bartlet,” we can piece together elements of their story. Jonathan Moulton’s wife had just died of smallpox and he was about to marry again, which would bring a new mistress into the prosperous and prominent Moulton household. (Col. Jonathan Moulton was a very colorful character – he has been called “the American Faust.”) It is interesting that the enslaved teen had been inoculated against smallpox, while Susannah had not. Or perhaps the entire household was inoculated, but Susannah contracted and died of the full-blown disease, while the others gained immunity. Cato was on the threshold of adulthood, his home was in turmoil, and the prospect of independence through military service must have seemed worth making a dash for it.
What did John Buckman think when“Elijah” “offered his service” at the tavern? Whether to hire a stranger was not a decision made lightly by a head of household in 18th century New England. If a new resident was taken into a household, the host family was required to make a statement to the board of selectmen that they would be financially responsible for the newcomer. If the family did not uphold its pledge, the town could require the guest to leave, a practice called “warning out.”A head of household would want to avoid this public failure to keep his house in order. In addition, the suspicious Buckman might have wanted to avoid the legal reach of this well-clad and “likely” young man’s master, who he would have imagined to be a wealthy and powerful man.
Somewhere, there may be traces of Cato’s further path. What could those “other reasons” have been that made Moulton think he was heading for New York? It is likely, though, that we will not be able to find out what happened to him.
For the story of an African-American family in 18th century New England that conveys the challenges that free black New Englanders faced, see Gretchen Holbrook Gerzina’s Mr.
and Mrs. Prince.
The author can be contacted at polly.lex300@gmail.com.
While I was working on last month’s post to this website, I ran across the following 1776 newspaper item. (This is where I found it.) From: New England Chronicle (Boston), Thursday, January 18, to Thursday, January 25, 1776
FIFTEEN DOLLARS Reward.
RUN AWAY from Col. Jonathan Moulton of Hampton in the colony of New Hampshire, in October last, a negro boy named Cato, about 18 years old, and about 5 feet and an half high, or something more; a more likely strait limb'd, well built and active a boy is seldom to be seen, and plays well on a fife ; he is very apt to scowl, or knit his brows, and has had the small-pox by inoculation, which he shows but little in his face, but the place on his arm where he was inoculated is plain to be discovered. Since he ran away he was taken up at Durham, and in conveying him to his master he made his escape; since that he was at headquarters, and offered to inlist, but not meeting with success, he went from thence to Lexington, where he offered his service to Mr. John Buckman, innholder in that town, and called himself Elijah Bartlet, and said that he was free born; Mr. Buckman suspecting him to be a runaway, which the boy perceiving, he stopped but a few days, and went off privately, which was some time in November last, and his master has had no intelligence of him since. He had on when he went away, a blue duffel round jacket, with cuff, and without lining, a blue large jacket, both almost new, and a pair of leather breeches, and carried with him 3 check shirts, 2 of which were cotton & woolen, and the other linen, with large checks, &c, but it appears he has exchanged some of his outside cloaths for other of another colour. Whoever will take him said runaway and convey him to his master, or secure him in any way of the colony goals, so that his master can have him again, shall have fifteen dollars, and all necessary charges paid by JONA. MOULTON.
Hampton, January 1, 1776
N. B. As the boy was born at New-York, and from some other reasons it's likely he is thence making his way ; but it's more likely he will offer himself to work by the month or year, in some part of the colony of Massachusetts Bay or Connecticut, and whoever may have the opportunity of taking up said runaway is cautioned to take particular care lest he makes his escape again as he is so artful and cunning a boy.
Col. Moulton’s advertisement provides a vivid portrait of a young man whom we otherwise would not meet in the historical records. It also reminds us of the searingly difficult position of enslaved people in 18th century New England. Cato, as Moulton called him, had absented himself from his owner’s household in Hampton, New Hampshire, apparently in the hope of making a new life for himself. He must have know how hard this would be. His intent may have been to join the Continental Army, which had recently been re-opened for free African-American volunteers. If Cato had been free-born like Barzillai Lew, who lived in Dracut and Chelmsford, he could have put the talents Moulton recognized in him to use in his local militia. (Lew’s wife, Dinah Lew – who was born into slavery in Lexington as Dinah Bowman – lists for us Lew’s military record in her documentation of her right to an army pension, as well as telling us of the family she raised with her husband.)
However, runaway slaves were not eligible for service. We know that a substantial number of enslaved men entered fought in New England militia troops alongside free colonists in 1775. Prince Estabrook is a well-known and honored example from our own town of Lexington. In these cases, enslaved men were sent into service as a substitute for the head of household or his son. In some cases, these men may have requested and received permission to go to war. Although tradition often has it that slaves returning from war were given their freedom by owners grateful for their service, the more prosaic truth seems to be that these men used what funds they could retain from their soldiers’ pay to purchase their own freedom.
But to return to “Mr. John Buckman”and the young “Elijah Bartlet,” we can piece together elements of their story. Jonathan Moulton’s wife had just died of smallpox and he was about to marry again, which would bring a new mistress into the prosperous and prominent Moulton household. (Col. Jonathan Moulton was a very colorful character – he has been called “the American Faust.”) It is interesting that the enslaved teen had been inoculated against smallpox, while Susannah had not. Or perhaps the entire household was inoculated, but Susannah contracted and died of the full-blown disease, while the others gained immunity. Cato was on the threshold of adulthood, his home was in turmoil, and the prospect of independence through military service must have seemed worth making a dash for it.
What did John Buckman think when“Elijah” “offered his service” at the tavern? Whether to hire a stranger was not a decision made lightly by a head of household in 18th century New England. If a new resident was taken into a household, the host family was required to make a statement to the board of selectmen that they would be financially responsible for the newcomer. If the family did not uphold its pledge, the town could require the guest to leave, a practice called “warning out.”A head of household would want to avoid this public failure to keep his house in order. In addition, the suspicious Buckman might have wanted to avoid the legal reach of this well-clad and “likely” young man’s master, who he would have imagined to be a wealthy and powerful man.
Somewhere, there may be traces of Cato’s further path. What could those “other reasons” have been that made Moulton think he was heading for New York? It is likely, though, that we will not be able to find out what happened to him.
For the story of an African-American family in 18th century New England that conveys the challenges that free black New Englanders faced, see Gretchen Holbrook Gerzina’s Mr.
and Mrs. Prince.
The author can be contacted at polly.lex300@gmail.com.
The Flutist
This portrait is entitled "The Flutist" and has been attributed
to Gilbert Stuart or someone trained by him. The man depicted
may be Barzillai Lew, who married Lexingtonian Dinah Bowman.
As recently as the late 1990's the painting hung in the Walter
Thurston Room of the State Department Building in
Washington. Does anyone know of its present location?
Installment Two - March 4, 2012
Lexington was incorporated in 1713 to meet the needs of a growing population of English settlers who sought to create a new community, separate from the governance of the mother community Cambridge (itself once called New Towne). When we look back to this date as the beginning of our town, we should also recall the Native American communities that had once thrived in the area. William Wood’s 1634 map of eastern Massachusetts shows three Native American settlements clustered closely around our little corner of the state. However, after King Philip’s War (or Metacom’s War, 1675-76), the business of eliminating traditional Native life and culture from the area, started during the Pequot War, was completed. As Daniel Gookin learned from Native witnesses, the Massachusett tribal group had already been reduced by as much as 90% by a smallpox epidemic in 1612-13. In the ensuing decades, thousands of people perished in a detainment camp on Deer Isle or were sold into slavery, the collateral damage of war. The only possible way for Indians to retain community identity under such crushing pressure was to live in one of the few eastern Massachusetts towns organized around a“Praying Indian” church. Towns such as Nashoba, Natick, Hassanamisset, Punkapoag, and Wamesit came to life in this manner.
But what of Lexington? What is now Lexington appears not to have been a village site – the Massachusett preferred ecosystems along the Concord, the Mystic, and the Charles Rivers for their spring and summer agricultural settlements. But was there a Native American presence here in the 18th and the 19th centuries? Certainly, our written histories do not mention any such thing beyond one individual in particular, an enslaved man named Anthony who was part of the 18th-century Joseph Estabrook household. However, readers of Daniel Mandell’s Behind the Frontier: Indians in Eighteenth Century Eastern Massachusetts will discover that Native Americans did not vanish from the Bay area, as our historical memory would have it. In fact, while communities were reduced to enclaves as Anglo-Americans undermined Native land holdings, Indian churches preserved cultural heritage and created networks of interconnected families. While older cultural identities were erased, Native Americans adapted to life in eastern Massachusetts, drawing strength from a new, inclusive ethnic identity. This Native network existed alongside Anglo-American families, but was seldom taken note of. By the 19thcentury, the “Indians” no longer presented themselves in a way that white Massachusetts could recognize as “Indian.” While more than a few of our current residents have Native heritage, the question of American Indian identity in Lexington from the 18th into the early 20th century remains open. And – there is plenty of research that shows us what methods we could use to learn more.
Lexington was incorporated in 1713 to meet the needs of a growing population of English settlers who sought to create a new community, separate from the governance of the mother community Cambridge (itself once called New Towne). When we look back to this date as the beginning of our town, we should also recall the Native American communities that had once thrived in the area. William Wood’s 1634 map of eastern Massachusetts shows three Native American settlements clustered closely around our little corner of the state. However, after King Philip’s War (or Metacom’s War, 1675-76), the business of eliminating traditional Native life and culture from the area, started during the Pequot War, was completed. As Daniel Gookin learned from Native witnesses, the Massachusett tribal group had already been reduced by as much as 90% by a smallpox epidemic in 1612-13. In the ensuing decades, thousands of people perished in a detainment camp on Deer Isle or were sold into slavery, the collateral damage of war. The only possible way for Indians to retain community identity under such crushing pressure was to live in one of the few eastern Massachusetts towns organized around a“Praying Indian” church. Towns such as Nashoba, Natick, Hassanamisset, Punkapoag, and Wamesit came to life in this manner.
But what of Lexington? What is now Lexington appears not to have been a village site – the Massachusett preferred ecosystems along the Concord, the Mystic, and the Charles Rivers for their spring and summer agricultural settlements. But was there a Native American presence here in the 18th and the 19th centuries? Certainly, our written histories do not mention any such thing beyond one individual in particular, an enslaved man named Anthony who was part of the 18th-century Joseph Estabrook household. However, readers of Daniel Mandell’s Behind the Frontier: Indians in Eighteenth Century Eastern Massachusetts will discover that Native Americans did not vanish from the Bay area, as our historical memory would have it. In fact, while communities were reduced to enclaves as Anglo-Americans undermined Native land holdings, Indian churches preserved cultural heritage and created networks of interconnected families. While older cultural identities were erased, Native Americans adapted to life in eastern Massachusetts, drawing strength from a new, inclusive ethnic identity. This Native network existed alongside Anglo-American families, but was seldom taken note of. By the 19thcentury, the “Indians” no longer presented themselves in a way that white Massachusetts could recognize as “Indian.” While more than a few of our current residents have Native heritage, the question of American Indian identity in Lexington from the 18th into the early 20th century remains open. And – there is plenty of research that shows us what methods we could use to learn more.
Installment One - February 5, 2012
On Dec. 15, 1691, the Great General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony ruled on
"the Petition of the Farmers and Inhabitants of the Farm withing the Precincts, and Bounds of the Town of Cambridge towards Concord, therein setting forth their distance, (the neerest of them Living above five Miles) from Cambridge Meeting house, the Place of the Public Worship Praying"
who had, for the third time in a decade, "for the Advantage of themselves, families, and Posterity" sought permission for "the calling of a fit Minister for dispensing the Gospell among them; as also that they may be a distinct Village for the Ends Proposed."
The Court, familiar with the case after years of upholding Cambridge's opposition to the creation of this new village, ordered that "the Petitioners be [...] Permitted, and Allowed to invite, and Settle, an Able, and Orthodox Minister, for the dispensing of the Gospell, among them; And that all Inhabitants living within the [petitioning area] do Pay unto the Ministers maintenance there."
With that, the village of Cambridge Farms, home to ca. 200 people, started on its way to becoming a town.
(As cited in Charles Hudson, History of the Town of Lexington, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, Vol. I (Boston & New York: Houghton, Mifflin & co., Riverside Press. 1913), pp. 30-31)
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