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| The Scarlet Sunset by Joseph Mallord William Turner, c. 1830-40 |
"Yesterday Boston was shrouded, and nature's gloom soon infusing itself into the hearts of all made it a day long to be remembered.
About 7 O'Clock in the morning the golden pall shrouded the city in its embrace, and the weird unreal appearance continued throughout the day. As one approached a doorway from within and glanced out upon the sidewalk and street, it was difficult to dispel the illusion that an extensive conflagration was raging near, and that it was the yellow, gleaming light from the burning houses that produced the singular effect.
At all events it was strangely unreal lights when the sun should have been shining—twilight at noonday. A quietness seemed to pervade the streets, the girls that kept the peanut stands ceased for a while their efforts to dispose of their wares, the fruiters stood motionless beside their heap of golden peaches and grapes, and even the impressible newsboy took on a more subbed tone.
[Boston] Common Looked Sombre and Dear as one glanced down the long vistas formed by arching boughs, and entering beneath their shade, a solemn stillness prevailed that seemed almost foreboding in its intensity. As the houses wore on business men seemed to have little heart in their work, and as soon as the imperative labors of the day were completed started for home, seeming to think that the most desirable place for them if nature had got so out of humor.
Although other causes have been known to produce the same effects, the juried aspect which all things assumed yesterday was undoubtedly caused by smokes from the immense forest fire racing to it north and west the past week or two. The smoke, caught in the fog, hanged like a golden canopy over the city, requiring a storm or high wind to disperse it. This startling and almost ghastly appearance of the heavens, although strange, portended another storm, wind or hurricane, being caused simply by a smoke cloud. The only storm in this part of the country."
Excerpted from The Boston Globe, September 7, 1881 (Yellow Tuesday)
