USA > Connecticut > Fairfield County > Ridgefield > The history of Ridgefield, Conn. : from its first settlement to the present time > Part 13
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" The church under the care of Mr. Goodrich con- sists of 130 members.
" The whole number of inhabitants belonging to the congregations is 850.
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HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
" There have been 1750 baptisms since the year 1743, and 170 pay taxes to the Congregationalists.
" About the time that Paine's 'Age of Reason ' came abroad, Infidelity presented itself to view, and like Milton's description of Death 'Black, it stood as night, fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,' the horror of its features disgusted the people to such a degree that it has not yet had one advocate in this town.
" The salary given Mr. Ingersoll was £75, to Mr. Goodrich £115 and 20 cords of wood annually. The list of the town 51,000 dolls., of the first society 22,000 dolls. Public worship is here maintained by tax only.
"Schools in this town are maintained, Ist in part by the produce of the sale of lands in Litchfield County by the State, and appropriated to the school ; 2ª by the produce of an excise duty laid on Rum and Tea, but the act proving unpopular was never carried into general execution-the money paid in by this town was returned and appropriated for the benefit of schools; 3ª by the 40s. on the thousand as it is commonly called ; 4th by the produce of the sales of the western lands, and lastly, in case of deficiency, by a tax on the schollars.
" The wages given to masters is from 15 to 8 dol- lars per month, according to number of schollars and the abillity of the teachers. There is taught in our schools Reading, writing, arithmetic, and Grammar, some catichising and a little manners. It has been remarked, that since the visiting committee have at- tended to their duty, our schools are under better regulation and our schollars make greater proficiency. There are a number of young people who have been taught in our schools who have gone into other parts and taught with applause. Board for children is from 75 cents to one dollar per week, and tuition from 50 cents to one dollar per quarter.
" The number of poor who receive aid from the town do not exceed 10 or 12, of which number not
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1800.
more than 2 or 3 receive their whole support. Those that do are foreigners, being those mentioned before, one of which was a laborer and the other a soldier who wrought jet work in cedar since he has been in this country till he was near 80 years old, and he will to this day, being in the 96th year of his age, sing a martial air he learned in Flanders and cry 'God save King George.' Those who receive partial aid do some work, and receive some assistance from rela- tions and particular friends. The old soldier has been bid off to the lowest bidder for several years from 7s. 6d. to 6s. per week. We have no poor that are charge- able but what became so by bodily imbecility.
" We had the last year not more than five Taverns in town, though in years past we have had double that number, they are not much frequented by the in- habitants of the town. The grog-drinkers and Brandy tipplers have found a way to be supplied at a cheaper rate than they can obtain at licensed inns, and it is necessary that they should be prudent.
"In regard to climate the height of our situation in the atmosphere and the descent of the land to the north renders the air, though cold, exceedingly salu- brious. Different disorders have prevailed in differ- ent seasons, owing to different causes. The main street in the town being on the highest land, or near it, has ever been healthy; near the low lands and ponds in the skirts of the town the fever and ague and other fevers have prevailed. There are some in- stances of nervous fevers almost every year, which generally proves mortal. The dysentery sometimes visits us, but has never made great ravages. Symp-
toms of putridity have appeared in some fevers, and have in some instances proved suddenly fatal, yet never been alarming. The small-pox has been fami- liar, and has in a great measure left its terrors since the practice of inoculation, which has been generally adopted by almost all the inhabitants. 3 or 400 have had it in a season, out of which number from I
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to 2 have died, it is a very small expense. People here generally marry young, and are very prolific ; in six families a number of years since, all living in one neighborhood, there were 75 children.
" The number of births greatly exceed the number of deaths. There may have been 4000 since the set- tlement of the town. The annual number of deaths on an average for ten years past will not exceed 20 ; about I in a hundred of the inhabitants. There has been one instance of a man who deceased in town 102 years old, he was born at East Chester in the State of New York, and came into this town in the 44th year, by name Richard Osborn. He was a very religious man, slender in body, had been a justice of the peace and deacon in the prime of life, was temperate in his habits and diet, but animated in his passions. There have been many instances of persons living over 90, and great numbers who survive 80, and considerably active. There are now living in the town 3 over 90, and 20 who are 80 or more.
" In October a remarkable thunder gust, tornado, or hurricane, passed through the northerly part of this society, and the south part of Ridgebury, de- stroying everything in its course in this and the neighboring towns. Eleven buildings were nearly destroyed, and three or four entirely. Several dwell- ing-houses were damaged in a surprising manner, but none of the inhabitants were destroyed or very mate- rially injured.
" Our elevated situation occasions the earth to be covered much deeper and longer with snow than the neighboring towns, but we are not exposed to inunda- tions, being so near the head of the streams. There have been for several years great swarms of insects (especially the Rosebug) moving to the northward and northwest-some have supposed them to be the Hessian Fly. For several years past a sort of cater- pillar worm has prevailed upon the trees, both fruit trees and forest trees. In the latter part of summer
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1800.
especially, the wild cherry-tree, many of the red and black ash trees have been destroyed in the swamps and low grounds, and if not checked in their progress by Providence threaten wide destruction.
" Our little town has not much to boast of superior genius or intellects, though nature has been by no means niggardly to us in the distribution of her pow- ers. The natives of the town are undoubtedly endued with as good natural capacities as any people on earth, though few of them have any great degree of acquired learning. The person who happens to be most em- ployed by his fellow freemen in public business soon claims, and has the most notice. And we have many persons who never mounted the public stage of busi- ness, who only want to be called up and employed to exhibit tallents which by experience would shine.
"Our various mechanics and artificers improve gradually in the beauty if not in the strength of their various manufactures. In regard to the vices of the people, though it might be prudent to draw a curtain to hide them, yet they will in one occasion or another become public. Robbing orchards and gardens in the season of fruit is the most prevalent, and other indulgence of fleshly appetites frequently cause re- pentance. The amusements commonly in vogue are ball, chess, quoits, and dancing. The people by fre- quently stirring up are attentive to their civil privi- leges and religious institutions. In liberality the people are not deficient, and have always furnished their quota for the public service. We have a small library of about 150 vols. established about 5 years since, and annually augmented."
CHAPTER XIII.
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
THE following letter is from the racy pen of S. G. Goodrich, Esq., more familiarly known as Peter Par- ley, and was written to his brother in the year 1855, while on a visit to Ridgefield, after a long absence. It is published in his "Recollections of a Life- time," but that book is owned by few, and is at pres- ent out of print. The letter is in Mr. Goodrich's best style, and will always be of interest to every one at all familiar with the town, as affording a true and life-like picture of faces and scenes now growing dim in the deepening shade of years.
It was addressed to this brother, who was expect- ing to visit the town with him, and had set out on the journey, but had been taken ill and forced to re- turn. Mr. Goodrich it must be remembered was the son of Rev. Samuel Goodrich, extracts from whose unpublished History of Ridgefield in 1800, we have given in the previous chapter.
NEW YORK, August 20, 1855.
DEAR BROTHER : I greatly regret that you could not continue your journey with us to Ridgefield. The weather was fine, and the season-crowning the earth with abundance-made every landscape beautiful. The woods which, as you know, abound along the route, spread their intense shade over the land, thus mitigat- ing the heat of the unclouded sun ; and the frequent
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
fields of Indian corn, with their long leaves and silken tassels, all fluttering in the breeze, gave a sort of holi- day look to the scene. Of all agricultural crops this is the most picturesque and the most imposing. Let others magniloquize upon the vineyards of France and the olive orchards of Italy ; I parted with these scenes a few weeks since, and do not hesitate to say, that, as a spectacle to the eye, our maize fields are infinitely superior. Leaving New Haven by rail, we reached Norwalk in forty minutes ; an hour after we were at Ridgefield-having journeyed three miles by stage, from the Danbury and Norwalk station. Thus we performed a journey, in less than two hours, which cost a day's travel in our boyhood. You can well comprehend that we had a good time of it.
As I approached the town, I began to recognize lo- calities-roads, houses, and hills. I was in a glow of excitement, for it was nineteen years since I had vis- ited the place, and there was a mixture of the strange and familiar all around, which was at once pleasing and painful ; pleasing, because it revived many cher- ished memories, and painful, because it suggested that time is a tomb, into which man and his works are ever plunging, like a stream flowing on, only to disappear in an unfathomable gulf. The bright village of to-day is in fact the graveyard of the past genera- tion. I was here, like one risen from the dead, and come to look on the place which I once knew, but which I shall soon know no more. All seemed to me a kind of dream-half real and half imaginary-now presenting some familiar and cherished remembrance, and now mocking me with strange and baffling reve- lations.
Nevertheless, all things considered, I enjoyed the scene. The physiognomy of the town-a swelling mound of hills, rising in a crescent of mountains- was all as I had learned it by heart in childhood. To the north, the bending line of Aspen Ledge ; to the east, the Redding Hills ; to the west, the Highlands
9
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HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
of the Hudson; to the south, the sea of forest- crowned undulations, sloping down to Long Island Sound-all in a cool but brilliant August sun, and all tinted with intense verdure, presented a scene to me-the pilgirm returning to his birth-place-of un- rivalled interest.
In general the whole country seemed embowered in trees-fresh and exuberant, and strongly in con- trast with the worn-out lands of the old countries- with openings here and there upon hillside and val- ley, consisting of green meadow, or pasture, or bloom- ing maize, or perhaps patches of yellow stubble, for the smaller grains had been already harvested. As I came within the precincts of the village, I could not but admire the fields, as well on account of their evi- dent richness of soil and excellent cultivation, as their general neatness. The town, you know, was origi- nally blessed or cursed, as the case may be, by a most abundant crop of stones. To clear the land of these was the Herculean task of the early settlers. For many generations, they usurped the soil, obstructed the plough, dulled the scythe, and now, after ages of labor, they are formed into sturdy walls, neatly laid, giving to the entire landscape an aspect not only of comfort, but refinement. In our day these were rudely piled up with frequent breaches-the tempting open- ings for vagrant sheep, and loose, yearling cattle. No better evidence can be afforded of a general process and improvement, than that most of these have been relaid with something of the art and nicety of mason- work. The Mat Olmsteads and Azor Smiths of the past half century, who laid stone wall for Granther Baldwin and General King at a dollar a rod would be amazed to see that the succeeding generation has thrown their works aside in disgust and replaced them by constructions having somewhat of the solidity and exactitude of fortifications.
As we passed along, I observed that nearly all the houses which existed when we were boys, had given
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
place to new, and for the most part larger, structures. Here and there was an original dwelling. A general change had passed over the land : swamps had been converted into meadows ; streams that sprawled across the path, now flowed tidily beneath stone bridges ; little shallow ponds-the haunts of muddling geese- had disappeared ; the undergrowth of woods and copses had been cleared away ; briers and brambles, once thick with fruit, or abounding in birds'-nests, or perchance the hiding-place of snakes, had been extir- pated, and corn and potatoes flourished in their stead. In one place, where I recollected to have unearthed a woodchuck, I saw a garden, and among its redolent pumpkins, cucumbers, and cabbages, was a row of to- matoes-a plant which in my early days was only known as a strange exotic, producing little red balls, which bore the enticing name of love-apples !
At last we came into the main street. This is the same-yet not the same, All the distances seemed less than as I had marked them in my memory. From the meeting-house to 'Squire Keeler's-which I thought to be a quarter of a mile-it is but thirty rods. At the same time the undulations seemed more frequent and abrupt. The old houses are mostly gone, and more sumptuous ones are in their place. A certain neatness and elegance have succeeded to the plain and primitive characteristics of other days.
The street, on the whole, is one of the most beau- tiful I know of. It is more than a mile in length and a hundred and twenty feet in width, ornamented with two continuous lines of trees-elms, sycamores, and sugar-maples-save only here and there a brief inter- val. Some of these, in front of the more imposing houses, are truly majestic. The entire street is car- peted with a green sod, soft as velvet to the feet. The high-road runs in the middle, with a footwalk on either side. These passages are not paved, but are covered with gravel, and so neatly cut, that they ap- pear like pleasure-grounds. All is so bright and so
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HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
tasteful that you might expect to see some imperative sign-board, warning you, on peril of the law, not to tread upon the grass. Yet, as I learned, all this embellishment flows spontaneously from the choice of the people, and not from police regulations.
The general aspect of the street, however, let me observe, is not sumptuous, like Hartford and New Haven, or even Fairfield. There is still a certain quaintness and primness about the place. Here and there you see old respectable houses, showing the dim vestiges of ancient paint, while the contiguous gar- dens, groaning with rich fruits and vegetables, and the stately rows of elms in front, declare it to be taste, and not necessity, that thus cherishes the rev- erend hue of unsophisticated clapboards, and the ven- erable rust with which time baptizes unprotected shingles. There is a stillness about the town which lends favor to this characteristic of studied rusticity. There is no fast driving, no shouting, no railroad whistle-for you must remember that the station of the Danbury and Norwalk line is three miles off. Few people are to be seen in the streets, and those who do appear move with an air of leisure and tranquillity. It would seem dull and almost melancholy were it not that all around is so thrifty, so tidy, so really com- fortable. Houses-white or brown-with green win- dow-blinds, and embowered in lilacs and fruit-trees, and seen beneath the arches of wide-spreading Ameri- can elms-the finest of the whole elm family-can never be otherwise than cheerful.
I went of course to the old Keeler tavern, for lodg- ings. The sign was gone, and though the house re- tained its ancient form, it was so neatly painted, and all around had such a look of repose, that I feared it had ceased from its ancient hospitalities. I, how- ever, went to the door and rapped : it was locked ! A bad sign, thought I. Ere long, however, a respecta- ble dame appeared, turned the key, and let me in. It was Anne Keeler converted into Mrs. Ressequie.
S
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
Had it been her mother, I should only have said that she had grown a little taller and more dignified ; as it was, the idea crossed my mind-
" Fanny was younger once than she is now !"
But it seemed to me that her matronly graces fully compensated for all she might have lost of earlier pre- tensions. She looked at me gazingly, as if she half knew me. She was about inquiring my name, when I suggested that she might call me Smith, and begged her to tell me if she could give me lodgings. She replied that they did sometimes receive strangers, though they did not keep a tavern. I afterward heard that the family was rich, and that it was courtesy more than cash, which induced them to keep up the old habit of the place. I was kindly received, though
at first as a stranger. After a short time I was found out, and welcomed as a friend. What fragrant butter, what white bread, what delicious succotash they gave me ! And as to the milk-it was just such as cows gave fifty years ago, and upon the slightest encour- agement positively produced an envelope of golden cream ! Alas ! how cows have degenerated-espe- cially in the great cities of the earth-in New York, London, or Paris-it is all the same. He who wishes to eat with a relish that the Astor House or Morley's or the Grand Hotel du Louvre cannot give, should go to Ridgefield, and put himself under the care of Mrs. Ressequie. If he be served, as I was, by her daughter-a thing, however, that I cannot promise- he may enjoy a lively and pleasant conversation while he discusses his meal. When you go there-as go you must-do not forget to order ham and eggs, for they are such as we ate in our childhood-not a mass of red leather steeped in grease, and covered with a tough, bluish gum-as is now the fashion in these things. As to blackberry and huckleberry pies, and similar good gifts, you will find them just such as our mother made fifty years ago, when these bounties of
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HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
Providence were included in the prayer-" Give us this day our daily bread," and were a worthy answer to such a petition.
Immediately after my arrival, waiting only to de- posit my carpet-bag in my room, I set out to visit our house-our former home. As I came near I saw that the footpath we had worn across Deacon Benedict's lot to shorten the distance from the street, had given place to a highway. I entered this, and was approaching the object of my visit, when I was over- taken by a young man, walking with a long stride.
" Whose house is this on the hill ?" said I.
" It is mine," was the reply.
"Indeed ; you must have a fine view from your upper windows ?"
Yes, the view is famous, and the house itself is somewhat noted. It was built by Peter Parley, and here he lived many years !"
By this time we had reached the place. The stranger, after I had looked at the premises a few mo- ments said, "Perhaps you would like to ascend the hill to the north, from which the view is very exten- sive ?" I gave assent, and we went thither-soon finding ourselves in the old Keeler lot, on the top of High Ridge, so familiar to our youthful rambles. With all the vividness of my early recollections, I really had no adequate idea of the beauty of the scene, as now presented to us. The circle of view was indeed less than I had imagined, for I once thought it immense ; but the objects were more strik- ing, more vividly tinted, more picturesquely dis- posed. Long Island Sound, which extends for sixty miles before the eye, except as it is hidden here and there by intercepting hills and trees, seems nearer than it did to the inexperienced vision of my child- hood: I could distinguish the different kinds of ves- sels on the water, and the island itself-stretched out in a long blue line beyond-presented its cloud-like tissues of forest, alternating with patches of yellow
PHOTO ENG. CO N.Y
PETER PARLEY HOUSE .- RESIDENCE OF WM. O. SEYMOUR, EsQ.
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RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
sandbanks along the shore. I could distinctly indi- cate the site of Norwalk; and the spires peering through the mass of trees to the eastward, spoke sug- gestive of the beautiful towns and villages that line the northern banks of the Sound.
West Mountain seemed nearer and less imposing than I had imagined, but the sea of mountains be- yond, terminating in the Highlands of the Hudson, more than fulfilled my remembrances. The scene has no abrupt and startling grandeur from this point of view, but in that kind of beauty which consists in blending the peace and quietude of cultivated valleys with the sublimity of mountains-all in the enchant- ment of distance, and all mantled with the vivid hues of summer-it equals the fairest scenes in Italy. The deep blue velvet which is thrown over our northern landscapes, differs indeed from the reddish purple of the Apennines, but it is in all things as poetic, as stimulating to the imagination, as available to the painter, as suggestive to the poet-to all, indeed, who feel and appreciate the truly beautiful. As I gazed upon this lovely scene, how did the memories of early days come back, clothed in the romance of childhood ! I had then no idea of distance beyond these moun- tains ; no conception of landscape beauty, no idea of picturesque sublimity-that surpassed what was fa- miliar to me here. Indeed, all my first measures of grandeur and beauty, in nature, were formed upon these glorious models, now before me. How often have I stood upon this mound, at the approach of sun- set, and gazed in speechless wonder upon yonder mountains, glowing as they were in the flood of sap- phire which was then poured upon them ! I pray you to excuse my constant reference to foreign lands ; but as I have just left them, it is natural to make compari- sons with these objects, familiar to my childhood. Let me say, then, that no sunsets surpass our own in splendor, nor have I seen any thing to equal them in brilliancy, when the retiring orb of day, as if to shed
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HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
glory upon his departure, pours his rays upon the out- stretched fleece of clouds, and these reflect their blaze upon the mountain landscape, below. Then, for a brief space, as you know, the heavens seem a canopy of burnished gold, and the earth beneath a kingdom robed in purple velvet, and crowned with rubies and sapphires. In Italy, the sunset sky has its enchant- ments, but while these perhaps surpass the same ex- hibitions of nature in our climate, in respect to a cer- tain tranquil softness and exquisite blending of rain- bow hues, they are still inferior, in gorgeous splen- dor, to the scenes which I have been describing.
Having taken a hasty but earnest view of the grand panorama of High Ridge, I returned with my guide to the house. I feigned thirst, and begged a glass of water. This was readily given, and I tasted once more the nectar of our "old oaken bucket." After glancing around, and making a few observations, I thanked my attendant for his courtesy-who, by the way, had no suspicion that I knew the place as well as himself-and took my leave, and returned to the hotel. My emotions upon thus visiting our early home-so full of the liveliest associations-it would be utterly in vain to attempt to describe.
It was now Saturday evening, which I spent quietly with my host and his family, in talking over old times. In the morning I rose early, for it seemed a sin to waste such hours as these. Standing on the northern stoop of the Keeler tavern, I looked upon the beautiful landscape bounded by the Redding and Danbury hills, and saw the glorious march of morning over the scene. The weather was clear, and the serenity of the Sabbath was in the breadth of nature : even the breezy morn soon subsided into stillness, as if the voice of God hallowed it. The birds seemed to know that He rested on this seventh day. As the sun came up, the fluttering leaves sank into repose : no voice of lowing herd or baying hound broke over the hills. All was silent and motionless in the
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