The Romance of Old New England Rooftrees | Page 2

Mass. 260
Edes House, Birthplace of Professor Morse, Charlestown, Mass. 264
Oval Parlour, Fay House, Cambridge, Mass. 286
Brook Farm, West Roxbury, Mass. 296
Fuller House, Cambridgeport, Mass. 312
Old Manse, Concord, Mass. 324
Townsend House, Salem, Mass. 342
Old Oaken Bucket House, Scituate, Mass. 359

Whittier's Birthplace, East Haverhill, Mass. 380

THE ROMANCE OF OLD NEW ENGLAND ROOFTREES

THE HEIR OF SWIFT'S VANESSA
Nowhere in the annals of our history is recorded an odder phase of
curious fortune than that by which Bishop Berkeley, of Cloyne, was
enabled early in the eighteenth century to sail o'erseas to Newport,
Rhode Island, there to build (in 1729) the beautiful old place, Whitehall,
which is still standing. Hundreds of interested visitors drive every
summer to the old house, to take a cup of tea, to muse on the strange
story with which the ancient dwelling is connected, and to pay the
meed of respectful memory to the eminent philosopher who there lived
and wrote.
The poet Pope once assigned to this bishop "every virtue under
heaven," and this high reputation a study of the man's character
faithfully confirms. As a student at Dublin University, George Berkeley
won many friends, because of his handsome face and lovable nature,
and many honours by reason of his brilliancy in mathematics. Later he
became a fellow of Trinity College, and made the acquaintance of
Swift, Steele, and the other members of that brilliant Old World literary
circle, by all of whom he seems to have been sincerely beloved.
A large part of Berkeley's early life was passed as a travelling tutor, but
soon after Pope had introduced him to the Earl of Burlington, he was
made dean of Derry, through the good offices of that gentleman, and of
his friend, the Duke of Grafton, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.
Berkeley, however, never cared for personal aggrandisement, and he
had long been cherishing a project which he soon announced to his
friends as a "scheme for converting the savage Americans to
Christianity by a college to be erected in the Summer Islands, otherwise
called the Isles of Bermuda."

In a letter from London to his lifelong friend and patron, Lord Percival,
then at Bath, we find Berkeley, under date of March, 1723, writing thus
of the enterprise which had gradually fired his imagination: "It is now
about ten months since I have determined to spend the residue of my
days in Bermuda, where I trust in Providence I may be the mean
instrument of doing great good to mankind. The reformation of
manners among the English in our western plantations, and the
propagation of the gospel among the American savages, are two points
of high moment. The natural way of doing this is by founding a college
or seminary in some convenient part of the West Indies, where the
English youth of our plantations may be educated in such sort as to
supply their churches with pastors of good morals and good learning--a
thing (God knows) much wanted. In the same seminary a number of
young American savages may also be educated until they have taken
the degree of Master of Arts. And being by that time well instructed in
the Christian religion, practical mathematics, and other liberal arts and
sciences, and early imbued with public-spirited principles and
inclinations, they may become the fittest instruments for spreading
religion, morals, and civil life among their countrymen, who can
entertain no suspicion or jealousy of men of their own blood and
language, as they might do of English missionaries, who can never be
well qualified for that work."
Berkeley then goes on to describe the plans of education for American
youths which he had conceived, gives his reasons for preferring the
Bermudas as a site for the college, and presents a bright vision of an
academic centre from which should radiate numerous beautiful
influences that should make for Christian civilisation in America. Even
the gift of the best deanery in England failed to divert him from
thoughts of this Utopia. "Derry," he wrote, "is said to be worth £1,500
per annum, but I do not consider it with a view to enriching myself. I
shall be perfectly contented if it facilitates and recommends my scheme
of Bermuda."
But the thing which finally made it possible for Berkeley to come to
America, the incident which is responsible for Whitehall's existence
to-day in a grassy valley to the south of Honeyman's Hill, two miles

back from the "second beach," at Newport, was the tragic ending of as
sad and as romantic a story as is to be found anywhere in the literary
life of England.
Swift, as has been said, was one of the friends who was of great service
to Berkeley when he went up to London for the first time.