Dear Sir,—Since you asked my opinion as to what could be wisely done for the improvement of Easton’s Beach as a place of public resort, a large part of the ground has been so encumbered by ice and snow as to prevent more than a superficial examination of the circumstances; but, without further delay, I will advise you of the inclination of my judgment upon my present understanding of them.

The probable effect of proposed measures on the value of city property has not often to be considered where the highest utility of the property is of the character that it is in this case. It is desirable, therefore, to plainly draw the line which divides the question to be dealt with from such as are of more familiar occurrence.

To those who for the first time see from this property the ocean breaking upon a broad strand of slight and regular inclination, the sight is one of the most moving that nature anywhere offers; and it is one admiration of which never fails. This distinctive value—regarding the beach as a property to be dealt with on commercial principles—will advance as population and wealth and facilities for reaching the seaboard increase in the interior of the country. The city, therefore, should be on its guard against projects by which conditions on which it depends may be weakened, vulgarized, or made unnecessarily prosaic, artificial, and commonplace.

The broad, hard beach, and the waste of sand back of it, thrown up by the breakers, form the natural and the most appropriate setting, and the most telling foreground for the grandeur of the view toward the offing; and simply as a matter of taste, or of the value of the property as food for the eye and the imagination, nothing better can be done than to let it alone.

If, however, considerations of public convenience and comfort must in some degree overrule this of respect for nature, then whatever is to be provided may desirably be given one of two characters. It may be either simple, sturdy, and of storm-defying aspect, or it may be obviously slight and shiftable, like the dressing-rooms on wheels commonly provided for bathers on the English beaches.

But I am advised, that, if the city should be willing to adopt any such [154]movable dressing arrangement for bathers, some fixed construction at which spectators can obtain shade, seats, and refreshments, will probably be thought necessary. If an affair for this purpose is required, it should be set as far from the surf as practicable; that is to say, well back upon the high sands, leaving the beach proper unbroken. The present structures on the beach are too shabby and incommodious to remain long; but, taking everything into consideration, it would, I feel sure, prove an injury to the city to replace them by such as have lately been set upon several beaches of public resort elsewhere. These are really of the same cheap and shabby class, but bigger, and made more obtrusive and incongruous by gingerbread work and paint; sometimes also by sorry attempts to put all the distinctive attractions of the local scenery out of countenance by displays of smug turf and garish flower-gardening. I particularly advise against anything of this kind.

I have so far been writing of what, to my mind, is not desirable, rather than offering positive advice, because the question, what should be done upon the beach, appears to be secondary to another, any satisfactory determination of which would probably affect plans for dealing with the beach.

While the view seaward over the beach, when not artificially disturbed, is as fine as possible, the foreground of the landward view is discordant with the general character of all that is seen beyond, and most disagreeable.

It is formed chiefly by a quagmire, with large pools of shallow water and mud. As the summer advances, the water shrinks, and the muddy surface broadens. The mire, when stirred, has a fetid odor, and apparently contains a large amount of putrefying organic matter. These conditions have not as yet, it is said, been found harmful to the public health; but they are obviously menacing, and, by their resemblance to those of the most noisome and deadly miasmatic localities, are a repulsive circumstance in the midst of a place otherwise of the highest distinction as a resort for health and cheering recreation.

The pleasure of a visit to the beach, and consequently the value of the beach as a property of the city, must be greatly marred by this circumstance; and if, by any means not excessively costly, it could be overcome, and the landward foreground made positively agreeable and harmonious with the general landward prospect, the value of all private property throughout the city would be favorably affected.

Because of the difficulty of obtaining accurate information of all the under-water conditions, and consequently of judging fairly the capabilities of the situation, I do not like to propose a definite plan for the object; but I will offer a tentative suggestion, which, if you please, may serve as a provocative to more practical discussion than has yet been had,—may at least draw out information of difficulties and objections not at present obvious to me.

The important facts to be considered appear to be as follows;—

The swampy district is about three-quarters of a mile long against the beach, and quarter of a mile broad. The surface of the muddy deposit is about half above and half below the surface of the water at its average height. The depth of [155]

Plan for Easton’s Beach and surrounding area, Newport, R.I. (1883)

The first object in any plan of improvement should be to obtain greater depth of water when water is to be permanent, and greater elevation, and consequently better drainage for the surface of all ground to be left above water.

This object can be gained at the least cost by the use of a steam-dredger, which (drawn over the beach by house-moving apparatus) would at once open a channel for itself by scooping the mud before it. The dredged material being swung out and deposited at its sides, the process could be so managed, that in the end the entire territory now occupied by quagmire would be divided between the dredger’s channels, which would have a sandy bottom, at a minimum depth of perhaps four feet, and ridges between these channels, the surface of which ridges would have been raised by the deposits of the dredger to an elevation of three feet above the surface of the water,—more, if it should be found best, as it probably will be, to keep the ultimate level of the water considerably lower than at present.

But, to secure a pleasing aspect, means should be taken for spreading portions of the dredged material at a greater distance from the channels; and, with a view to a public promenade in connection with the beach, all along the outer part of the swamp the dredger should work below the mud, raising a sufficient amount of sand to form a continuous clean and solid embankment, with deep water adjoining it.

I give you here a rough sketch showing how the division of land and water might be arranged with a view to an economical use of the steam-dredging apparatus, and at the same time to picturesque effects.

On the outer embankment a pleasure drive, riding pad, and walk could [156]be made within the outlines shown on the sketch. The circuit would be about two miles in length. Wherever required, ordinary streets would open into this circuit road.

The circumstances are not favorable to the thrift of many sorts of trees or shrubs, though entirely so to turf and a great variety of perennials. The soil would be a little salty, subject to be harshly swept by the Atlantic gales converging between two headlands, and to be sometimes dashed with a little fine spray from the breakers. Unless, therefore, discrimination were used in the planting, trees and shrubs would be apt, if kept alive, to take an uncanny habit of growth. But as along the New England coast there are several shrubs that naturally adapt themselves to similar trying circumstances with good effect, and as under like conditions along the German ocean several other trees and bushes have been successfully cultivated. I am inclined to regard these natural limitations as an advantage rather than otherwise, as an insurance against finical gardening, unsuitable to the adjoining landscape circumstances.

If there should be a disposition to entertain a project of the character thus forecast, I should advise that a survey be made with numerous soundings upon the marsh as soon as the ice melts. A plan could then be worked out, and estimates of cost obtained, giving a definite form to the matter. This might take six weeks. The amount of material to be handled is large; but, by using steam in the manner suggested, it could be moved at less than half the cost of wheeling the same in the ordinary way on dry land. My impression is that the cost of the entire work would be within a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and above a hundred thousand dollars.

If possible, the dredging should be begun early in the autumn, and completed before warm weather of the following summer. The mud, once frozen and thawed, would be harmless; but, if the operation were to be carried on during the summer, it might be difficult to prevent its becoming a nuisance. The work could be wholly completed, and the circuit roads opened to public use, the second year.

In conclusion, a trite remark may be excused on the ground that, because of its triteness, it needs on this occasion to be specially emphasized.

The degree in which the life of many of the summer residents of Newport is, to outward appearance, given to the pursuit of social enjoyments and ruled by fashion, tends to distract attention from the special root of the city’s prosperity.

It was not fashion that first brought people of luxurious tastes, with means for indulging them, to Newport. It was a satisfaction found in its air and scenery by people of a rather reserved, unobtruding, contemplative, and healthily sentimental turn, little troubled by social ambitions. Social attractions came with them; and fashion, as is usual, followed social attractions. Little as it may be obvious on the surface, it is the same local advantage of air and scenery, and the same class of minds yielding to it, that yet retains for Newport so much larger a share of social advantages and of fashion than, with constantly increasing outlays and exertions, competing places of public resort are able to secure.

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Whatever is to the disadvantage of the air or the natural scenery of Newport, to the sense of this inadvertent leadership of society and of fashion, is disadvantageous to the prosperity of the city. Whatever lessens any such disadvantage, and tends to strengthen the attractiveness of its air and scenery, even though it be by action on a listless imagination, as surely reduces its rate of taxation by enlarging the basis of assessment, and otherwise puts money in its pocket, as any other means by which capital might be attracted, and the profitable trade of the best customers of the country secured to a community.

Respectfully yours,