USA > Connecticut > Litchfield County > Woodbury > History of ancient Woodbury, Connecticut : from the first Indian dead in 1659 to 1872, Vol. II > Part 12
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We have learned, as the preparations for this our Bi-Centennial Celebration progressed, that many of you would to-day revisit the scenes of your childhood ; and have feared that among you there might be some whose old homesteads no longer echoed to familiar voices,-whose relations had gone out from among us, to a newer or a better land. Lest, therefore, any here should be sad for the lack of kindly greeting in their native valley, the citizens of Ancient Woodbury have directed me to bid you in their name, a CORDIAL WELCOME HOME AGAIN !
" We have invited you to unite with us in reviewing a history which is our mutual inheritance,-a past whose story is written all over these hills and valleys. Around us, smiling meadows and cheerful homes speak of the patient, unobtrusive toil that has wrought this " Dwelling in a Wood." Moss, gathered and gath. ering on the tomb-stones in our grave-yards, tells how long ago the early builders began to fall asleep. Their homes are our pos- session-their memory a legacy to all.
" We are happy to see you here, not only on account of the pleasure your presence adds to the general enjoyment ; but more especially because your coming assures us that our history, and song, and services, are not the result of mere local pride, but that you esteem them, as we do, a proper tribute to departed worth, an expression of gratitude justly due from us on such an anni- versary, to the noble and the good who have gone before. We commemorate no ordinary struggles and necessities of frontier life. We rehearse the fortitude and success of no common adventurers. Were those whose memory we are here to honor,
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mere first settlers, actuated by no higher motive than usually leads such into the wilderness, our theme would perhaps be unworthy of this occasion. The pioneer is rarely a man of exalted virtue. Hardy, courageous, and uncouth, he resembles those lichens, which, forerunners of vegetation, fix themselves on the barren rock, by their acids disintegrate its surface and assimilate its sub- stance, till the soil adheres, the grasses grow, and waving flowers succeed them. Not such were the Puritan fathers. They were holy Pilgrims, and the place they sought became a shrine.
"To such a spot you return to-day-return to meet cheerful faces and hospitable dwellings. How different was their coming !
' The rocking pines of the forest roared, This was their ' welcome home."
" They followed God's guidance into the wilderness, and brought His worship with them, Hardships were before, dangers around them : but they encountered all in that spirit, which instead of choosing castles, towers, or beasts of prey, the emblems of con- quest and pride, for armorial bearings, placed three vines upon a shield, and wrote beneath,
" Qui Transtulit Sustinet."
" Behold to-day how He has ' sustained " See it in these fruitful valleys ! Read it in this happy throng ! Truly it is not wonder- ful that a past thus begun and thus resulting, should move us to unite in public rejoicing. Let other and older nations do homage to conquerors and triumph in their battle-fields, New England celebrates her centuries, which bring down the Puritan's blessing to ever increasing thousands in her land of peace.
"Welcome, then, sons and daughters of Ancient Woodbury, who return as emigrants to-day-welcome to the land of your fathers, to the scene where we unite to do honor to their memory! How longsoever you have been absent, though you meet with few familiar faces, we greet yon as old acquaintances, as near relations. And knowing that the child of New England never forgets his birth-place, though you have your habitations elsewhere, return- ing here, we bid you welcome HOME."
A historical address was then delivered by the author of this work, who introduced his subject as follows :
" We stand this day upon the grave of two hundred years. We have come with solemn awe and reverent tread to commune with the long buried past. We are assembled, on this anniversary
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morn, for the first time, in the long lapse of two centuries, to commemorate the deeds of our departed sires. We are come, after years of absence from the old firesides, to recall the memo- ries and renew the associations of former days. Some of us come to look upon the old homesteads among the hills, and breathe a sigh over the moss-grown graves of ancestors long since gone to their rest. Some of us come to view the hallowed spot on which our eyes first saw the light; where we, in the hours of innocent childhood, received a father's and a mother's blessing, and where we, could we have our wish, at the close of a well-spent life, would yield our tired spirits up to the Giver of all good. We are this day surrounded with the results of all the labors of the past, and occupy the proud positions long years ago so nobly adorned by the sainted fathers and mothers who planted this fertile terri- tory, and who, having ceased from their labors, have 'ascended into glory.' They have passed away to the land of spirits like the dissolving of a sunset cloud into the cerulean tints of heaven- stealing from existence like the strain of ocean-music, when it dies away, slowly and sweetly, upon the moonlit waters. We do well, on this glad day of liberty, to celebrate their lofty achieve- ments, and do meet honor to their deathless names. If those re. vered spirits, who have so long enjoyed their sacred repose, can look down through the veil that obscures our view of Heaven, they will approve, with a smile of love, the design of our assem- bling here. And when, on the morrow, you shall leave this place to revisit it no more forever, you will feel that it has been good for you to have been here on this glad occasion."
Then followed a rapidly sketched epitome of the history of the town. The old first mill stone of 1681, being placed on a table, was used for a reading desk-rude memorial of the early days which has escaped the ravages of "time's effacing finger !" During the progress of this address various ancient articles were exhibited to the audience, some of which were thus described :
" Here is the ball which buried itself in the groin of Col. Hin- man, where it remained for the long period of thirty-three years, when it was extracted by Dr. Anthony Burritt. On its passage it hit a bayonet by his side, cutting and flattening the edge as you see. And here is another Revolutionary relic, aye, a relic of the first days of the colony, two hundred years ago. It has been handed down from father to son, from its first known owner, Capt.
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John Minor, the Indian interpreter, and is known to be at least 220 years old. By closer inspection. I see the manufacturer' date upon the barrel is 1624. It was used in the Pequot war, it all the French and Indian wars, and in the war of the Revolution It is said to have caused, first and last, the death of forty red men and from this circumstance has been familiarly known as the ' forty Indian gun.' And here is still another relie of two centu ries ago-the old arm chair of Col. Benjamin Hinman, brough from Stratford, and formerly the property of Francis Stiles Here, too, is his pipe of peace, presented to him at the peace o 1788, with a request that he would smoke it as often as the 4th o July should return-a request with which he faithfully complied Here, too, is a chair used by Gen. Washington at New York."
Atter recounting the various historical events in the pron history of the old town, the address closed with some reflection growing out of the circumstances attending the occasion :
" Thus have we wandered through the flowery fields of the past plucking here and there a sweet garland of wild flowers by th wayside, and another in the cultivated gardens of advanein civilization, as best suited our purpose. We have endeavored, i our humble way, duly to reverence and honor the past. We hav traced with pious toil the varying tints, the lights and shadows ( the pioneer life of our sainted fathers, who occupied these seat before us. We have rendered them a willing and a filial tribut of love, duty and recollection. There is a pure and unallove pleasure in wandering amid the scenes and incidents of the lon buried past. There is a sad, though ennobling interest in seekin the faintest recorded trace of the early fathers. The eye hs kindled at the ancient glories, and the soul has been warmed wit a placid tiow of tender heart sympathies. In the wealth of th past, full well have we traced 'God's hand in history.' No inqu ries can be more interesting to the intelligent student seekin guidance from the light of former days, and desiring above all t emulate that sublime intermixture of the true principles of st bility and progress. so happily blended in the history of our for fathers. The feeling's that prompt these filial inquiries are ju and natural-they give birth to some of the dearest charities life, and fortify some of its sternest virtues. The principle the prompts them lies deep within our nature.
" While rendering, therefore, due homage to the past, an
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profiting by all its honored maxims, we would not blindly worship it. In the proud consciousness of manhood, we should not fear the present, or its bold and startling issues. nor should we be dis- trustful of the future, and of the hidden mysteries it may have in store. We should not fear the rapid march of events across the stage of life. We would not build a fair superstructure on the ruins of former times, nor would we 'bind down the living, breathing, burning present,' to the mouldering though honored relics of the past. We would rather imitate all that was glorious in the acts and example of the 'men of seventy-six, the boldest men of progress the world has ever seen.' We would emblazon their great principles of conservative progress with a pencil dipped in fire. We are proud of the past, glory in the present, and look hopefully forward to the future. We do not even fear enthusiasts and ultraists, as from the collision of extremes comes the ever truthful mean. We would so mingle them that there ' should flow in harmonious procession the cadence of a history chiming on through the centuries, full of faith and praise.' We would fearlessly meet the issues we cannot avoid, while the past impels and the future summons us to prompt action, occupying as we do the great middle ground between the early age of planting and the bright harvest of the future, which stretches towards us its hands laden with ripened fruit. We would hasten to the golden fields and bright realizations of the days to come. Our acts are not for an age, but for all time.
" Glorious, thrice glorious is the day we celebrate! It is the two hundredth anniversary of the exploration of this valley, the one hundred and eighty-ninth of the gathering of the First Church, and the eighty-third of our national independence. On this glad day of liberty, what sacred emotions arise in the patri- otic breast ! How shall we rightly honor a day consecrated by the deeds of the noble men of all the past-not more the patriots who fought in the gloomy days of the revolution, than those who struggled amid the dangers of defenceless and remote forests. It has taken all the labors of our fathers, from the first hardy pio- neer, to make the glorious present. We enjoy the fruits of all the toil and blood of our fathers for two hundred years. It is meet, then, that we greet with enthusiastic joy the smiling morn of the anniversary of that last, most daring and sublime of all the acts of our forefathers, the Declaration of Independence. It is well that we hail its annual return with the ringing of bells upon ten
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thousand hills ; by the booming of innumerable cannon and smaller arms; by rockets, fire-works and illuminations; by solemn pro- cessions and grateful prayers to God; by stirring orations and patriotic songs ! May the hymns of liberty never die out from our breezy mountains, nor the lofty sentiment of patriotism from our happy valleys! Let the glad echoes be repeated from the Eastern to the Western Ocean, and from the icy regions of the North to the sunny climes of the ever-blooming South !
" What shall be the developmeuts and improvements in our highly favored territory, a hundred years hence ? The answer to this question must depend mainly upon ourselves. Of all this vast concourse, not one will be here to celebrate the next centen- nial. Long ere another centennial sun shall rise over this lovely valley, we shall have experienced the 'last of earth,' and passed to join the innumerable company of the dead ! 'The dead of old Woodbury ! Lost, yet found forever-absent, yet present now and always-dead, but living in that glorious life, which, com- mencing on the confines of time, spreads onward and ever onward through the endless ages of eternity.' Then let us, by the nobleness of our conduct, and the purity of our lives, eschew- ing all low delights and jarring discords, strive to add our mite to the great and good history of our sainted fathers, who have ' ascended into glory.' Then will our children, as they shall, with wet lids, assemble here, a hundred years hence, to commemorate our history, be enabled to say of us, 'they wrought well, and have received the reward of their labors,' Then shall our fame, as well as that of those glorious men who have already entered into their rest, be perennial with our noble language, in which it is re- corded, now 'spread more widely than any that has ever given expression to human thought.' "
At the close of the address, after music from the Band, the vast multitude repaired to the tents, provided with an abundance of eatables by the good ladies of the several towns, where they were hospitably entertained. In a brief space, the people were again summoned to the stand, and the exercises were opened by music from the Band, followed by the well-known song, "The Pilgrim Fathers," sung with fine effect by Gilbert Somers Minor, an aged man of silvery locks and long white beard. Then fol- lowed a Historical Poem by Rev. William Thompson Bacon, of Woodbury.
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Mr. Bacon is a native of Woodbury, and the chief poct of all the ancient territory. He has written much and well, but no effort of his pen ever did him more credit than his poem on this occasion. We will quote a passage or two, applicable to this history, which may serve as a sample of the whole. Describing the advent of our fathers in this valley, to found a new town, he says :
"It is a thought of beauty and of fear, To look upon those lonely wanderers here,- The first white men that ever stood upon This ancient soil, or look'd upon the sun,- And try an instant to call up the power, That lay upon their souls in that still hour ! Was it not solemn, as they paused to view The embracing hills, or look'd upon the blue Broad heaven, that, like a canopy, came down, And rested on the circling mountains' crowa, They all alone, alone, amid the scene,- A solemn, silent, wilderness of green ? O, had some power, one little moment then, Flashed through the minds of these heroic men, The mighty future, from the distance caught, With all its splendid wealth of soul and thought, It's strength and beauty, innocence and truth, And reverend age. and loving dreams of youth. Each age successive gathering up the past, Till the bright present on their souls was cast,- Would there been wanting to that spot and time, One single element of the grand sublime ?- And would they not have trembled, in each sense, At God's unfolding, mighty Providence ?
" These brave men scoured the regiou all around. Sought every spot, and all its promise found,- The gentle valley and the rounded hill, The winding stream and solitary rill ; Each opening vista through the forest glade, And every charm by freak of Nature made,- From the cool grotto, where the brooklets run, To splinter'd peak, tall black'ning in the sun ;- At last, discovering what they came for, pleas'd With what they'd purchas'd, not, like robbers, seized, Back to old Stratford's strand they turn once more, And tell the wondrons story o'er and o'er.
-
" Roll back the tide of time ! and let us stand Two hundred years ago, with that brave band,
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Who, from the hill, that, westering, skirts this scene, Looked down upon its rolling forests green, And, gazing, as they might, with strange surprise, Let the whole mighty landscape fill their eyes!
" Roll back the tide! and let us, as we may, Group, in our thought, the picture of that day,- Of that brave band along the forests led, Now climbing steeps, now whore the waters spread,- Startled, how oft, to catch that sound of fear, The bark of cat, or yell of mountaineer,- Till where yon mountain rising to the blue, Gave all this glorious landscape to their view !
" Far to the north, hills over hills survey, Till their blue tops are mingled with the day ; Far to the south the widening vale extends, Whose wealth of splendor every beauty lends ; Far to the west, in wide succession spread, Valley and hill, and jutting mountain head ; While right before them, 'neath the morning sky, Nature's wide wonders all, were in their eye !
" I wonder mueh, if those broad-breasted men, In that rough age-(it will not come again- Should not perhaps)-I wonder if they view'd As we, this mighty stretch of wave and wood ! The Spring's first bird was whistling in the sky, The fragrant birch its tassels flaunted nigh ; Through the moist mould, in beauty ever young, Tall ranks of flowers on every bank were flung ; Far by the streams, as here and there they view'd, The classie willow, by the brook-side stood, Trembling all over in the morning's bean, Or playing with its shadow on the stream ; The young winds bore their fragrance all about, Mingled with hum of bee and torrent's shout, And the wide air with all those sounds was fiiled, That fancy ever dream'd, or heart has thrill'd ;- I wonder how those men, of stalwart mien, In that sweet morn looked forth upon the seene i
"One mighty purpose all that age had fired, One mighty aim each swelling soul inspired ; One truth, fast lock'd, in every soul was kept, That conscience guarded, and that never slept ;- Man came from God, in his own image made, And by that charter certain rights conveyed ;- Those rights long trampled by an hireling throne,
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Had sent them forth, to ways and wilds unknown; Here on bleak shores, soft breezes seldom press'd, Here mid rude scenes, gay fancy seldom dress'd, Alone, mid death, in want of all but worth, They battled for the noblest prize on earth, --- Man in his native dignity to stand, Himself a prince and ruler of the land !
" Small time had they then for the mere ideal, Their love was truth, their present life all real ; They walked the world, faith's vision never dim, Saw not God's works, they only gazed on Him !
" Tell me, ye sons of that imperial race, Imperial only, as their truth ye trace ;- Those brave men, scorning courts, and kingly crew, And only daring less than angels do ; - Tell me, if prince or nobleman there be, Can boast a prouder ancestry than we !"
At the close of the poem, which occupied an hour and a half in the delivery, the assemblage united in singing an original congrat- ulatory, and reminiscient ode, furnished by the writer of this. Then followed the benediction, by Rev. Thomas L. Shipman, of Jewett City, Conn., formerly Pastor of the Congregational Church in Southbury. The invited guests then scattered among the hospitable homes of our town, and never was their hospitality taxed to so great an extent before or since. Happy greetings of friends, and long deferred reunions were the order of the hour that will never be forgotten while life remains.
On the morning of the second day, at eight o'clock, about on e thousand persons convened in that sacred dell in the thick woods, on the east side of the Orenaug Rocks, half a mile from the vil- lage, which was consecrated by the prayers and praises of the early fathers, and by them called Bethel Rock. This meeting was held for the special purpose of commemorating this most interest- ing fact in the history of our revered ancestors, and the occasion was one long to be remembered by every devout heart.
Rev. Robert G. Williams, pastor of the old Pioneer Church, opened the meeting by giving out one verse of the hymn com- mencing-
" Be Thou, O God, exalted high,"
which, being sung with great solemnity, in the ever welcome air
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of " Old Hundred," Dea. Eli Summers was called upon to lead in prayer, which he did, after making some feeling and appropriate remarks. Then followed the reading of portions of the 28th and 35th chapters of Genesis, which contain the account of Jacob's setting up a stone to indicate the place where God had talked with him, and naming it his Bethel; which passages occasioned the giving by our falhers of the name of Bethel Rock to this beauti- fully wild and secluded place of prayer and communiou with God. Then followed, in rapid succession, appropriate remarks by Mr. B. H. Andrews, of Waterbury, Rev. Anson S. Atwood, of Mans- field Centre, Dea. Truman Minor, of Woodbury, and Rev. Philo Judson, of Rocky Hill. Mr. Judson became much affected while giving reminiscences of the great and good men with whom he had communed in prayer in this sacred retreat, in former years, and who now rest from their labors till the "Great Day of Ac- counts." Then followed the hymn-
" Once more, my soul, the rising day," &c.
Rev. Benjamin C. Meigs, late missionary to Ceylon, where he had labored for more than forty years, now led in a beautiful and impressive prayer, after having made the following remarks :-
REMARKS OF MR. MEIGS AT THE BETHEL ROCK.
MY FRIENDS ! I feel that it is good for us to be here. Here is the place where our Puritan fathers assembled to worship God, before they had any sanctuary built for this purpose, and while their savage foes roamed in these forests. In this beautiful ravine, under these sheltering rocks, by setting a watch on younder point, they could worship in comparative safety. Hence the name by which this place is known-" Bethel Rock." Surely the God of Bethel is here this morning. "This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." May we not suppose that our pious forefathers are now looking down upon us, while we are gathered together in this consecrated place of worship ? With what delight will they behold this assembly, while we pour out our hearts before God in prayer ?
A few appropriate remarks by Dea. Judson Blackman, were fol- lowed by a prayer from Rev. Anson S. Atwood, and the singing of a verse from the ninetieth Psalm. The regular exercises being now closed, a few moments were spent in hearing volunteer
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remarks, when the audience united in singing the verse, com. mencing-
" Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,"
Then followed the brief concluding prayer, by Rev. Philo Jud- son, and the benediction by Rev. Austin Isham, of Roxbury, and this solemn and interescing occasion was numbered with the events of the past, an event never to occur again during the life of any soul present at the revered spot. Many lingered, as if unwilling to separate, and many more procured and carried away portions of the rock and moss, to be treasured as sacred mementoes of a hallowed spot and a sacred scene.
At ten o'clock, a procession was formed in the same order as the first day, with the exception of the "antique" portion of it, which was omitted, and marched to the Tent, escorted by the Band and Warner Light Guards.
The services were opened by music from the Band, followed by reading of the following
CENTENNIAL HYMN.
BY REV. WILLIAM THOMPSON BACON.
Supposed to be sung on the spot where the Pilgrim Settlers held their first Sabbath Worship.
Here, then, beneath the greenwood shade, The Pilgrim first his altar made; . 'T was here, amid the mingled throng, First breathed the prayer, and woke the song.
How peaceful smiled that Sabbath sun, How holy was that day begun, When here, amid the dark woods dim, Went up the Pilgrims' first low hymn!
Look now upon the same still scene, The wave is blue, the turf is green ; But where are now the wood and wild, The Pilgrim, and the forest child ?
The wood and wild have passed away : Pilgrim and forest child are clay ; But here, upon their graves, we stand, The children of that Ckristian band.
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An exceedingly eloquent, fervid, and appropriate prayer was then offered by Rev. Friend W. Smith, Pastor of the Methodist Church in Woodbury.
Then followed a sermon by Rev. Henry Beers Sherman, of Belle- ville, New Jersey, a native of Woodbury. It was a labored and finished production, and gave great pleasure to the friends on the occasion.
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