October 4, 1853, was a proud day for Boston. Business was suspended, and the schools were closed in order that every one might have an opportunity to see the launch of the _Great Republic_. People flocked from far and near. It was estimated that thirty thousand persons crossed by ferry to East Boston, while Chelsea Bridge, the Navy Yard at Charlestown, and the wharves at the north end of the city were thronged by at least as many more. The shipping at the Navy Yard was gayly dressed with bunting, and the harbor was filled with steamers and pleasure boats crowded with people. It was a beautiful day, with a clear blue sky, bright sunshine, and a gentle westerly breeze. All the staging used in the construction of the ship had been removed, leaving her in full view as she rested upon the ways. Her long black hull had no ornament except a beautifully carved eagle’s head where the sweep of her raking stem and the sharp lines of her bow intersected, and across her handsome stern the American eagle with extended wings, under which her name and port of hail were carved in plain block letters. She had the same graceful sheer, finely formed midship section, and beautifully moulded ends that had been seen in this yard in the _Stag-Hound_, _Flying Cloud_, _Bald Eagle_, _Westward Ho_, _Flying Fish_, and _Sovereign of the Seas_, only on a much larger scale; indeed, from end to end she looked the out-and-out clipper. Spars were erected at the mast partners, and from the main she carried a long coach-whip pennant and a large white flag with the arms of the United States in the centre; from the other three spars she flew large United States ensigns, and from a staff on her bowsprit, the Union Jack. The sun gleamed and sparkled upon her smooth, bright yellow-metal sheathing, when at twelve o’clock the signal was given and the shores fell, to the wild chorus of topmauls, so well known in every Atlantic port fifty years ago. She moved slowly at first; then, gathering way, fairly leaped into the sea, amid smoke and fire from the burning ways, the roar of artillery, the music of bands, and the cheers of the vast multitude. So swiftly did she leave the ways that two anchors and the powerful steamer _R. B. Forbes_ barely succeeded in bringing her up, close to Chelsea Bridge. The _Great Republic_ was named by Captain Alden Gifford, who performed the ceremony by breaking a bottle of Cochituate water over her bow as she began to move along the ways. This was an innovation that created much comment at the time, and was permitted by Mr. McKay in deference to the wishes of Deacon Moses Grant and a number of energetic Boston women who were pushing the temperance movement and desired to advertise their wares.