USA > Connecticut > New London County > Norwich > The Norwich jubilee. A report of the celebration at Norwich, Connecticut, on the two hundredth anniversary of the settlement of the town, September 7th and 8th, 1859. With an appendix, containing historical documents of local interest > Part 24
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· Invitations were also forwarded to the honorable Millard Fillmore, ex-presi- dent of the United States; to the governors of each state in the union; the foreign ministers resident at Washington ; to the ex-governors, lieutenant gov- ernors, and past judges of the supreme court of the state ; present state officers, and judges of the supreme and superior courts; to the mayor of the city of Norwich, and city of Boston, in England; civil authorities of the towns of Nor- wich, in New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio; and to the editors of the newspapers in this state; to the honorable Isaac Toucey, secretary of the navy ; and commodore Samuel S. Breese; commodore John D. Sloat; captain Wm. Hudson; commanders Andrew H. Foot, and Joseph
* "Having many things to write unto you, I would not write with paper and ink: but I trust to come unto you, and speak face to face, that our joy may be full."
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Lanman; and colonel Mansfield of the United States army ; the presidents and professors of the several colleges in the state; presidents of historical societies in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Pennsylvania; and to other distinguished gentlemen, in number 197; making the whole number of invited guests 1,569.
In response to the circular of invitation, a large number of letters were re- ccived, most of them very brief, and either accepting the invitation or declining it.' Many others were of a very interesting character. Some of this class are worthy of preservation. A few of them are here presented.
FROM HION. CHARLES MINER, OF WILKESBARRE, PENNSYLVANIA.
WILKES-BARRE, July 17, 1859.
GENTLEMEN OF THE COMMITTEE :- Your invitation to be present at the com- memoration of the two hundredth anniversary of the settlement of Norwich, was received by last evening's mail. You are pleased to add :- " Should you, however, be unable to attend, will you favor us with a letter containing any facts of interest in your possession in relation to the town or its inhabitants ?"
I beg to return my most respectful acknowledgments. I can scarcely con- ceive anything left in life that would afford me so much pleasure. But the feebleness of near eighty years admonishes me that, not only is the visit hope- less, but that if I have anything to say, it should not be a moment delayed.
Affection for Norwich is entwined with every fiber of my heart. Having emigrated to Pennsylvania while yet a boy, my time of observation is limited ; and my scene of observation, to little more than the old town or round the square, fitted, rather, to amuse the grandchildren, than impart instruction or pleasure to the present generation.
Born February 1, 1780 ; peace proclaimed 1784; consciousness of memory is first awakened to the shouts of triumph and the thundering of cannon, at the old Peck house, (then, I think, doubtingly,) kept by Mr. Trott, (a fiery old patriot.) I mention this as connecting me with the revolutionary period, and to say, the drum, the fife, military display, was the pervading fashion. Almost all the older men had served in the French war. Ticonderoga was yet a familiar theme. Nearly the whole of the (then) present generation, moved by a com- mon impulse, had been down to Boston. The talk was of Lexington and Bunker hill. General Putnam is recorded as having stopped his plow in mid- furrow and started. So had it been in Norwich. An anecdote often told me shows the universal enthusiasm. My father, a house carpenter, and his journey- man, dropped their tools on the alarm. As the broad axe rang, the journeyman said, " That is my death knell !" Breathing the common spirit, he hied away cheerfully, but returned no more.
My father was on Dorchester heights, as orderly sergeant waiting on Mr. Huntington, afterwards general Jed. He used to relate that going the rounds, or reconnoitering, the British opened fire upon them from Boston. While ever and anon the balls would scatter the earth over them, general Huntington moved as unconcernedly as if at home in his own meadow.
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At the close of the war half the men on the square wore the title of captain. Starting on the south side of the green going down the road east, taking them in order, there were captain Bela Peck, captain Carew, captain Nevins, captain Simeon Huntington, captain Joseph Gale, captain Andrew Huntington, all in sight and nearly adjoining. The British in possession of New York; the sound and a hundred miles of the coast of Connecticut being subject to their invasion, Norwich may be said to have slept on their arms, liable every minute to be called out. Horse Neck, Rye, Seabrook, New London, were familiar to every man of them. To be sure, as I listened to their war stories, always with interest, sometimes with awe, occasionally with a smile, for they remembered the jokes of the camp, I do not recollect an imputation upon a single man pres- ent or absent as wanting in courage or patriotism. It is a pleasure to record anew the assurance that Norwich did its whole duty.
The plays of the boys were battles with the regulars. The charge-the ambuscade-the retreat-" The regulars are coming!"-"The regulars are coming !" Then the rally and renewed charge.
Their songs :--
" Don't you hear your gen'ral say, Strike your tents and march away."
But to the schools. The old brick school house at the bottom of the lane, below the spacious new jail, knew no recess. Among the earliest teachers within my recollection, was Charles White, a young gentleman from Philadelphia, handsome and accomplished. Of his erudition I was too young to judge, but popular he certainly was among the ladies. Newcomb Kinney awakened a high degree of emulation, especially in writing. A sampler was pasted up be- fore six or seven scholars, near the ceiling, on fine paper, on a double arch sus- tained by Corinthian columns, the upper corners of each sheet bearing a neatly painted quill, with the motto, "Vive la Plume." Within each half arch, near the upper part, in fine hand, a poetical quotation, as suggested by fancy, probably from "Hannah Moore's Search after Happiness," then highly popular. Beneath, in larger hand, successive lines in beautiful penmanship, filling the whole. The Piece painted in water colors-the pride of mothers-master and scholars.
Mr. Hunt, a graduate of Yale, followed. Mr. Macdonald succeeded, and then Mr. Baldwin became the preceptor.
The obedience fair-teachers capable and attentive. Discipline preserved without undue severity.
Pleasant were our school hours.
But school is let out. Boyish sports abound,
"Some chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball."
In winter the plain offered a capital opportunity for a trial of skill and courage. Sides were chosen. Each party built a semi-circular fort of vast snow balls, eight or ten rods apart. When the snow was soft and would adhere, all hands were summoned to the work. A line of balls as big as could be rolled was laid
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in a ereseent ; outside that another as large. Then with skids a row on the top-then a third row large as could be raised on the summit to erown the work, making a formidable breastwork. Lockers were eut out in the inside to hold great quantities of balls made ready for action. When both sides were prepared, a proclamation was made, and then came the "tug of war." The sport was manly and exciting.
Other plays were popular-most I have seen elsewhere-Thornuary, nowhere else. Here the up town and down town boys were sometimes pitted against each other. There was among us an active fellow named Choate, " Jabe Choate" we called him. Not of Norwich, he was a down-easter. From Boston I under- stood. In our little eirele he was a Coriolanus, for " When he moved he moved like an engine"-and like our modern erinoline elad ladies, swept all before him, yet a favorite, for he was brave and elever. I have wondered, if not the father, was he not, probably, the uncle of Rufus, the present idol of Boston ?
Mrs. Gildon kept a school a few rods below the plain for small children-she had a son Charles growing up to early manhood. I do not know their fate. The name is rare. The good school mistress has often been brought to mind when reading Pope :-
" If hungry Gildon drew his venal quill, I wish the man a dinner and sit still."
But Pope's shaft was no dishonor. So eminent an archer stooped to no ig- noble game.
Hark! The whole town is in commotion. A company of strolling players have taken possession of the lower part of the court house, and it is converted into a commodious theater. Where slept our puritan thunder! The tragedy of George Barnwell drew many a tear, soon wiped away in smiles by the shrewd follies of Tony Lumpkin, in " The mistakes of a night." The grown up beaux of Norwich, especially those who had visited New York and got their cue, were in high glee. I have a good mind to name seven or eight. The comic singer of the company displayed some tact-had a good voice, and sang,
"Ye Bucks! have att-ye all."
[Never having seen the song nor heard it since, I pretend to give only the sound.]
Instead of the pit, the critic's place, the roaring boys had taken possession of seats far back and high up in the amphitheater, and when he came with all the proper accompaniments of tone and gesture to
"D-nye! I know ye- Ye are of att ye all,"
It was a signal for a general cheer ! And brought down the house with an "ENCORE."
Several new songs were introduced by the company, and among them the many year popular :-
" A rose tree in full bearing,"
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Which Miss Mary Nevins, the fairest rose that ever bloomed, used so sweetly to sing. Passingly-the songs of the period, were mainly the hunting songs borrowed from England-
" Bright Phœbus has mounted his chariot of day,
With hounds and horns each jovial morn when Bucks a hunting go."
But these were giving place to the more modern sailor songs of Dibdin.
My intimate and ever dear friend, Gerard Carpenter, used to sing admirably-
" To England when with fav'ring gale, Our gallant ship up channel steered."
What noise is that, which makes the whole green ring again ?
Mr. Jones, the cooper, residing next to captain Peck's on the south side of the plain, with his adz and double-driver, holding it in the middle and playing it rapidly on the empty barrel, as he drives the hoop, sounds a reveille to the whole neighborhood, regular as the strains of Memnon.
A truce to these trifles.
The Sabbath has come. Everybody went to meeting. It was the pleasant- est day of the week. Manning is ringing the bell. Let us note the carriages as they come up.
The chaise drawn by that bay, so sleek, he looks as if he had been varnished for the occasion, brings captain Thomas Fanning and (pardon me, I was then a young man,) his two charming daughters. I think he was the attendant of our up-town meeting, who came from nearest the landing.
That stout black in a wider chaise, brings lady Lathrop, attended by Mr. Huntley and his daughter, a pretty little girl of 8 or 9, whose poetic genius and sweet moral strains have shed a ray of glory, not only on her native town, (as Lydia Huntley and Mrs. Sigourney,) but over her whole country, and rendered her name a praise throughout the republic of letters.
Here drives up a double carriage, plain, yet neat. Those spanking bays are full of spirit, they move admirably. They bring the family of Mr. Thomas Lathrop, who occupies the very handsome white mansion on the southern hill bounding the square.
NOTE .- Manning has ceased ringing, and is tolling the bell. Mr. Strong will be here presently. He comes with his lady, drawn in a plain chaise by a stal- wart brown horse, the favorite of many years.
Observe, as Mr. Strong ascends the steps numbers press round and hand him scraps of paper. They are received as matters of course-six-seven-or eight, as it may happen. We shall see directly what they are. While the psalm is being sung, which precedes the morning prayer, the minister's head is inclined forward as if reading. He rises and reads the slips of paper-one after another, running in this wise :- " Z. D. being about to take a voyage to sea, asks the prayers of this congregation, that he may be preserved and restored in safety to his family."
Several desiring to return thanks for mercies received. I dare not allow my- self to state the variety of petitions, relating to ordinary circumstances in life.
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It would seem to have required long habit and a retentive memory to recall them, yet Mr. Strong would touch cach, briefly, but appropriately, and with such earnestness and pathos, especially when praying for the sick, as by sympathy swelling every breast, and made the petition, the prayer indeed of the whole congregation.
Of the church music. Roberts, the famed singingmaster, had been among the voices, and infused his own impassioned soul into the school.
The front seats of the gallery-treble-counter-tenor-bass-were all full.
" O, that I could describe them to you!" In the pews below were numbers who had caught the inspiration. Nay, more, colonel Zack was among them, himself an organ full of melody and power.
Did "The Pilgrims' Song" close the worship of the day, an hundred voices attuned to perfect harmony, joining to swell the strain,
"Rise my soul and stretch thy wings To seats prepared above,"
The whole congregation rose to their feet-entranced.
The life of Mr. Strong, the revered, the beloved, his precepts and example, however imperfectly regarded, have been with me through life. His influence for good, is yet felt among hundreds of the descendants of emigrants from Nor- wich.
Monday has come and brings its usual busy throng and varying scenes.
Two printing presses were in full operation, that of Mr. Trumbull had been long established, and his paper was always read with pleasure. Busy memory, clinging to every thing with child-like delight, that relates to Norwich, calls up the anecdote. The fashion of the day was for advertisers to close-" Inquire of the printer." The wit of the town was dying. Mr. Trumbull bent over him with his wonted kindness and asked softly, "Do you know me, Mr. Barney ?" " If I don't I'll inquire of the printer." Samuel Trumbull, the oldest son, was a young man of a good deal of reading, and of ready wit. He wrote several essays under the head of " From the desk of Beri Hesden." The hint and the name of the essays-" From the desk of poor Robert the Scribe," I am sure I owed to him. William Pitt Turner was the Esop of the press, the poet and satirist, and lashed the foibles of the Bucks of " Att ye all," with no stinted measures. Young Trumbull, following in his wake, satirized the younger brood, and I came in, fairly enough, for my share, more proud of the notice, than angry at the rod.
The recent member of Assembly, Gurdon Trumbull, esq., it was my good fortune to form an intimate acquaintance with, in 1839, at Hartford. (I hope he is with you.) I can not deny myself the pleasure of adding, that I was subsequently indebted to his partial kindness for several favors done so consider- ately, and performed in a manner so delicate, as to demand a renewed and more open acknowledgment; mentioned to show how naturally and kindly the heart of the Norwich boys " warm to the tartan."
The other printing office was nearly opposite that of Mr. Trumbull's close to Collier's brass foundry. The paper published by Bushnell & Hubbard. Mr.
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Bushnell was afterwards appointed a purser in the navy, and died of yellow fever at sea. I mention the fact to add, that when in the West Indies, several gentlemen were inscribing the names of wives and sweet-hearts in a mountain grove-Bushnell declined to do so, lest the thoughtless should desecrate the place by obscene additions, but he wrote a poem addressed to his wife, it is said of remarkable delicacy and beauty. A man of genius and learning, few were more capable. Has Norwich preserved it?
The rival houses are at war. Small pox has broken out. There is not a mo- ment to delay. Two establishments for inoculation start into existence on the Thames, in Mohegan. Dr. Tracy, and Dr. - preside over that, at famed Massapeage. Dr. Marvin and Dr. Jewett over the other, at Adgate's. These were prominent points of interest in their day.
" Friendship to every willing mind, Opens a heavenly treasure,"
From lady voices I still recollect as soothing my feverish and restless spirits. In the main the remembrances were agreeable, redolent rather of frolic and fun than of pain.
Do you see those strange looking men hawking pictures, in broken English ? They are French emigrants, thus seeking to win their bread, exiled from home by the revolution, now raging. Listen :
"Louis de 16-madame Elizabet." They have pictures of the Guillotine, with their executioner, and the head of the king, all ghastly, streaming with blood, which he is holding up.
Look again-what have they ? Beautiful pictures, but so nearly immodest as to make me hesitate to bring to recollection, what was then familiar to every one in open market. The revolutionists, to cast odium on the royal family, represented an intimacy between the infamous duke of Orleans and the queen, Maria Antoinette. The polished verse runs thus :-
" Avaunt, rash boy, while I my homage pay, Where joys are bred and nestling cupids play."
Another-a sans-cullote sailor, with a red cap and shirt-emblems of liberty and courage. A French man-of-war has captured an English frigate. The sailor sings :-
" When e'er on French decks shouts of victory roar, Your crown 's a red cap, and tyrants are no more."
The winter assemblys demand special notice. Managed with such scrupulous care, every lady who might desire it, was not only invited, but provided with a carriage and agreeable escort. Mr. Lathrop had built an assembly room, with a spring floor, on purpose. There was no formal supper, but tea, coffee, tongue, ham, cakes, and every suitable refreshment in abundance. Collier, with his in- imitable violin-Manning with his drum. Order, the most perfect, never for a moment, that I saw or heard of, infringed. Contra dances occupied the eve-
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ning. The stately minuet had gone out of fashion, and the cotillon not yet introduced. The lines of a modern song express what was universally felt :-
" The reign of pleasure is restored, Of ease and gay delight."
In their apology, if one be needed, let me add, Washington would have ap- proved, and entered the pleasant occurrence in his journal. The musicians knew their hour, and at 1 the assembly closed.
They did not escape the keen edge of satire. The poem of W. P. Turner could be repeated by many emigrants to the Susquehanna, forty years after- ward.
The hum of industry is everywhere. Norwichi up town is a bee hive. Every mechanic, and there were few idlers, with every workman was employed manu- facturing hats, tin ware, pewter ware, boots, shoes, harness, coaches, chaises, small carriages, for slaves to draw the children-everything. The West Indies demanded many cargoes. Such was the prosperity of the country around, nearly every farmer would have his chaise. The fact that there were two coach and chaise manufactories in the town fully employed, showing the activity of one branch, will indicate that of others.
Take your stand on the school house steps, and suppose a circulating pano- rama.
Note that drove of horses dashing by. The driver is Lazelle, from the north. Twenty of the sixty are Canadian. They are for Howland's brig. Jesse Brown will see they are cared for a week, and send them to New London, when the brig is nearly ready to sail. A dozen vessels are preparing at the landing for cargoes, and droves are daily arriving.
Such a demand for horses must create a demand for sires. Luckily, here they pass, each with his groom. That superlatively beautiful bright bay, 14 hands high, is Figure, belonging to Haynes, of New London. That monster dark bay following, 17 hands high, is Nimrod. The dark chestnut is a favorite Rhode Island pacer. Count Pulaski is the last.
What mean those two covered carts with tinkling bells? They are our mar- ket. The single one, a daily, from Bean Hill. The double is from Windham, a weekly, but loaded with mutton that would tempt an epicure.
Note that dashing gentleman and lady on the fine pair of blacks. They have a foreign air. It is Jackson Brown, supposed to be an agent of the Brit- ish commissary department. They do not stop to have the gate opened, but bound over it as if in pursuit of a fox.
Note that splendid chariot, with servants in livery as out riders. There are two or three pairs of elegant English hunters. They are bounding away in pursuit of pleasure, to the Bozrah great pond, a fishing. It is the establish- ment of the noted English lord Bellisais.
Hark! There is music in the court house. An Irish gentleman of titled family, whom the war has embarrassed, with a noble spirit of independence, rather than sit down in indigence and despair, has opened a dancing school, not only here, but in Bozrah, Franklin, and two or three neighboring towns.
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Ordering his time that he may attend here twice a week, and visit the others once a week, not a minute was wasted.
John C. De Vereaux; that is the gentleman in the open carriage with the humpbacked musician, Howell, by his side. The general prosperity rendered it easy for parents, all round the country, to gratify their children. Would any one ask-"How did he succeed ?" Enquire who, forty years afterwards, was the wealthiest merchant in Utica, and president of the United States branch bank ? The answer would be John C. De Vereaux.
Evening approaches-where are the stages ? O! here they come up in style to Brown's hotel. That from the east, the horses all in a foam, has come all the way from Providence, since morning !
The one from the west is from Hartford. What is that under the Hartford stage ? It looks like the fore-top-sail of a brig. Lo! it is a sail cloth, so nailed under the bottom as to hang loose and bring down salmon from Hartford, with- out being bruised, for Brown, like Lathrop, had a pride in setting a capital ta- ble, and it is lucky to-day, as president Adams has just arrived.
Party, the twin sister of freedom, then prevailed, as it ever will, and the morning salute, confidently expected, was marred, as we black cockade federal boys charged, by the intentional failure of our opponents to-"keep their pow- der dry."
Training day, especially regimental, or brigade, was a great event.
The Matross company, commanded then by Roger Griswold, afterwards by captain Bailey, paraded in front of the meeting house ; the light infantry, in uni- form, near the old Perit house; the common militia company, facing west, on the lower point of the green; companies from the neighboring towns arriving, where the adjutant assigned them their position. From an early hour the plain was thronged; the line formed-mark that fine soldier-like bearing man on that stately war steed-that is general Marvin. Accompanied by his aids, in splendid uniform and nodding plumes, music filling the air, the line is passed, the salute given, the column formed; the march is down east and round the square. The band and the brigade of drums and fifes under Collier and Man- ning, alternating. Passing governor Huntington's, the salute is repeated, and could not be paid to a worthier, unless Washington were himself present. The windows all round are sparkling with beauty, and we little boys were thrice happy to trudge round on foot, hear the music, and see the pageant.
A marked incident in the exhibition was the assemblage of all Mohegan, and Betty Uncas, their queen, with brooms, baskets, blankets, papooses without number. They lined the fence from Eli Lord's to Lathrop's. The military dis- missed, still the plain is thronged. Here is captain Griswold, with a dozen of the most active fellows, playing a game of cricket. Yonder is captain Slocum and a party intent on a wrestling match. Each right hand hold of his oppo- nent's left elbow ; each left hand on his opponent's right shoulder. It was a game of skill, rather than of strength-the trip and twitch-the steel trap quickness. The Zouaves could hardly beat them. An adroitness that would seem unrivaled. Let the unpracticed, however strong and courageous, beware how he enters the lists, or he will find himself sprawling in mid air, seeking a
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resting place on the green turf, flat on his back, amid the cheers of hundreds.
Look! There is a daring fellow climbing up to the ball on the steeple. It makes one's head dizzy to gaze on him. That is John Post-fearless and spry as a wild cat.
Hark! The sounds of revelry proceed from Lathrop's chamber windows. The officers have dined, and prefer punch, such as Lathrop only could make, to indifferent wine. The choicest Antigua, loaf sugar by the pail full, lemons, oranges, limes. Merrier fellows, within tempered mirth, never wore cockade or feather.
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