World History 2
Name: _________________________
Close Reading of The Boston Brahmins
Date: _________________________
The Boston Brahmins
By Alexandra Hall | Boston Magazine | May 2004
What is confusing here?
What can I do to make it
less confusing?
What in this paragraph does
makes sense to me now?
If Boston is, in fact, the Athens of America, the
Boston Brahmins hover over our city like the
gods of Greek mythology. Not only were they the
ones responsible for molding Boston into a
version of Athens in the first place, but their
reputations are parallel: deities in history,
enigmas in the modern day.
Rumors about the Brahmins' influence in old and
modern Boston are as plentiful as they are
contradictory. Without a doubt, the Brahmins
were (and, some believe, still are) the shadowy
cabal that pulled the city's strings from on high.
Others say their wealth and power have dried up,
that all they have left are their names and what's
left in their trust funds. Admirers retort that the
Brahmins are this city's caregivers, lovers of
culture and education; detractors claim that they
are elitist and provincial Boston royalty. What's
undisputed is that, despite their generations of
wealth, the Brahmins were notoriously averse to
the crass shows of wealth on display in places like
Palm Beach or Newport. They are distinctly
Boston creations, who actively shun glamour and
attention in spite of their fortunes.
Many of their family names are easily recognized:
Lowell and Ames. Adams and Cabot. Forbes.
Shaw. Appleton. Crowninshield. Saltonstall. But
mostly, we non-Brahmins know the institutions
they created and left behind and, in a few cases,
still sustain: the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the
Peabody Essex and Isabella Stewart Gardner
museums, WGBH, the Museum of Fine Arts. In
fact, most of us know these institutions better
than the names of the benefactors who founded
them because, by their nature, Brahmins don't like
to chisel their names onto buildings. “The
Brahmin mystique was that they were very quiet,”
says society columnist Jonathan Soroff. “You
never knew that they had a dime.” In a sense, they
were the originators of shabby chic; even today,
there might be a Brahmin right under your nose,
and you wouldn't even know it.
More than anything, the history of the Boston
Brahmin is the history of philanthropy in Boston.
And the sense of noblesse oblige that became the
hallmark of the original Boston Brahmins was
arguably a result of the fact that many of them
started out with nothing and became rich. Most
first families–that description notwithstanding–
did not arrive here on the Mayflower. “If
everybody who says they came over on that boat
really had,” says one Boston woman who is a
friend of many Brahmins, “it would have sunk.” In
fact, most Brahmin names of note belong to old
New England families of Anglican origin, many of
whom settled in Boston at varying points before
the 17th century and made their fortunes by the
mid-19th.
For many–the Lowells, the Cabots–that meant
making money in industry, beginning with
textiles. Seafaring was also a common pursuit, and
that's where things grew lucrative–and often
dubious. Many of the original Brahmins' dealings
would make corrupt corporations look squeaky
clean. Rum-running, as well as slave and opium
trading were not uncommon lines of business.
Cabots, Derbys, Searses, Endicotts, Lowell,
Peabodys, Crowninshields–all were “men who, if
not actually pirates, were at least Vikings in their
methods,” wrote Amory. “To ease their New
England consciences, rum was technically known
as 'West Indies Goods'; the label 'Groceries and
W.I. Goods,' was a familiar one on Boston's
Merchants' Row.” Many Brahmins never forgot
how they came by their wealth and took measures
to redeem themselves. “A big part of the Brahmin
sense of giving to the community came from their
guilt over the source of their money,” says society
writer Soroff.