USA > Connecticut > Fairfield County > Ridgefield > The history of Ridgefield, Conn. : from its first settlement to the present time > Part 14
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17
189
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
street : every thing seemed to feel that solemn com- mand-Remember the Sabbath-day !- save only a strapping Shanghai cock in Mr. Lewis's yard over the way, which strutted, crowed, and chased the hens- like a very Mormon-evidently caring for none of these things.
At nine o'clock the first bell rang. The first stroke told me that it was not the same to which my childish ear was accustomed. Upon inquiry, I learned that on a certain Fourth of July, some ten years back, it was rung so merrily as to be cracked ! Had any one asked me who was likely to have done this, I should have said J H . ., and he indeed it was. With a good-will, however, quite characteristic of him, he caused it to be replaced by a new one, and though its tone is deeper, and even more melodious than the old one, I felt disappointed, and a shade of sadness came over my mind.
On going into the meeting-house, I found it to be totally changed. The pulpit, instead of being at the west, was at the north, and the galleries had been transposed to suit this new arrangement. The Puri- tan pine color of the pews had given way to white paint. The good old oaken floor was covered by Kidderminster carpets. The choir, instead of being distributed into four parts, and placed on different sides of the gallery, was all packed together in a heap. Instead of Deacon Hawley for chorister, there was a young man who "knew not Joseph," and in lieu of a pitch-pipe to give the key, there was a melodeon to lead the choir. Instead of Mear, Old Hundred, Aylesbury, Montgomery, or New Durham-songs full of piety and pathos, and in which the whole con- gregation simultaneously joined-they sang modern tunes, whose name and measure I did not know. The performance was artistic and skillful, but it seemed to lack.the unction of a hearty echo from the bosom of the assembly, as was the saintly custom among the fathers.
1 90
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
The congregation was no less changed than the place itself, for remember, I had not been in this building for five and forty years. The patriarchs of my boyhood-Deacon Olmstead, Deacon Benedict, Deacon Hawley, Granther Baldwin, 'Squire Keeler, Nathan Smith-were not there, nor were their types in their places. A few gray-haired men I saw, hav- ing dim and fleeting semblances to these Anakins of my youthful imagination, but who they were, I could not tell. I afterward heard that most of them were the companions of my early days, now grown to man- hood and bearing the impress of their parentage- blent with vestiges of their youth-thus at once in- citing and baffling my curiosity. For the most part,
however, the assembly was composed of a new genera- tion. In several instances I felt a strange sort of embarrassment as to whether the person I saw was the boy grown up or the papa grown down. It pro- duces a very odd confusion of ideas to realize in an old man before you, the playmate of your childhood, whom you had forgotten for forty years, but who in that time has been trudging along in life, at the same pace as yourself. At first, every thing looked belittled, degenerated in dimensions. The house seemed small, the galleries low, the pulpit mean. The people appeared Lilliputian. These impressions soon passed off, and I began to recognize a few per- sons around me. William Hawley is just as you would have expected ; his hair white as snow ; his countenance mild, refined, cheerful, though marked with threescore and ten. Irad Hawley, though he has his residence in " Fifth Avenue," spends his sum- mers here, and begins now to look like his father the deacon. I thought I discovered Gen. King in an erect and martial form in one of the pews, but it proved to be his son Joshua-who now occupies the family man- sion, and worthily stands at the head of the house. As I came out of church, I was greeted with many hearty shakes of the hand, but in most cases I could
191
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
with difficulty remember those who thus claimed re- cognition.
The discourse was very clever, and thoroughly or- thodox, as it should be, for I found that the Confes- sion and Covenant of 1750 were still in force, just as our father left them. Even the eleventh article stands as it was-" You believe that there will be a resurrection of the dead, and a day of judgment, in which God will judge the world in righteousness by Jesus Christ ; when the righteous shall be acquitted and received to eternal life, and the wicked shall be sentenced to everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels."
I was, I confess, not a little shocked to hear the account the minister gave of the church members, for he declared that they were full of evil thoughts -- envy, jealousy, revenge, and all uncharitableness. He said he knew all about it, and could testify that they were a great deal worse than the world in gen- eral believed, or conceived them to be. Indeed, he affirmed that it took a real experimental Christian to understand how totally depraved they were. I was consoled at finding that this was not the settled min- ister-Mr. Clark-but a missionary, accustomed to preach in certain lost places in that awful Babylon called New York. Perhaps the sermon was adapted to the people it was designed for, but it seemed ill suited to the latitude and longitude of such a quaint, primitive parish as Ridgefield, which is with- out an oyster-cellar, a livery stable, a grog-shop, a lawyer, a broker, a drunkard, or a profane swearer.
This circumstance reminded me of an itinerant Bo- anerges, who, in his migrations, half a century ago, through western New York, was requested to prepare a sermon to be preached at the execution of an In- dian, who had been convicted of murder, and was speedily to be hung. This he complied with, but the convict escaped, and the ceremony did not take place. The preacher, however, not liking to have so good a
192
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
thing lost, delivered it the next Sabbath to a pious congregation in the Western Reserve, where he chanced to be-stating that it was composed for a hanging, but as that did not take place, he would preach it now, presuming that it would be found ap- propriate to the occasion !
In the afternoon we had a begging sermon from a young converted Jew, who undertook to prove that his tribe was the most interesting in the world, and their conversion the first step toward the millennium. After the sermon they took up a contribution to aid him in getting an education ; he also sold a little story-book of his conversion at twelve and a half cents a copy, for the benefit of his converted sister. I have no objection to Jews, converted or unconverted, but I must say that my reverence for the house of God is such that I do not like to hear there the chink of copper, which generally prevails in a contribution-box. Even that of silver and gold has no melody for me, in such a place. It always reminds me painfully of those vulgar pigeon-dealers who were so summarily and so properly scourged out of the Temple.
The old dilapidated Episcopal church, which you remember on the main street-a church not only without a bishop, but without a congregation-has given place to a new edifice and stated services, with a large and respectable body of worshippers. The Methodists, who were wont to assemble, fifty years ago, in Dr. Baker's kitchen, have put up a new house, white and bright, and crowded every Sabbath with attentive listeners. This church numbers two hun- dred members, and is the largest in the place. Though, in its origin, it seemed to thrive upon the outcasts of society-its people are now as respectable as those of any other religious society in the town. No longer do they choose to worship in barns, school-houses, and by-places ; no longer do they affect leanness, long faces, and loose, uncombed hair ; no longer do they cherish bad grammar, low idioms,
193
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
and the euphony of a nasal twang, in preaching. Their place of worship is in good taste and good keep- ing : their dress is comely, and in the fashion of the day. The preacher is a man of education, refinement, and dignity, and he and the Rev. Mr. Clark-our father's successor-exchange pulpits, and call each other brother ! Has not the good time come ?
On Monday morning I took a wide range over the town with Joshua King, who, by the way, is not only the successor, but in some things the repetition of his father. He represents him in person-as I have already intimated-and has many of his qualities. He has remodelled the grounds around the old family mansion, amplifying, and embellishing them with much judgment. The house itself is unchanged, ex- cept by paint and the introduction of certain articles of furniture and tasteful decorations-testimonials of the proprietor's repeated visits to Europe. Here, being a bachelor, he has gathered some of his nieces, and here he receives the members of the King dynasty down to the third generation-all seeming to regard it as the Jerusalem of the family. The summer gath- ering is delightful, bringing hither the refinements of the best society of New York, Philadelphia, and other places. Here I spent some pleasant hours, meeting, of course, many of the neighbors, who came to see me with almost as much curiosity as if I had been the veritable Joyce Heth.
In all parts of the town I was struck with the evi- dences of change-gentle, gradual, it is true-but still bespeaking the lapse of half a century. Along the main street, the general outline of things is the same, but, in detail, all is transformed, or at least modified. Most of the old houses have disappeared, or have undergone such mutations as hardly to be recog- nized. New and more expensive edifices are scat- tered here and there. If you ask who are the pro- prietors, you will be told-Dr. Perry, Joshua King, Nathan Smith-but they are not those whom we
194
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
knew by these names-they are their sons, perhaps their grandsons. Master Stebbins's school-house is swept away, and even the pond across the road-the scene of many a school-day frolic-is evaporated ! I am constantly struck with the general desiccation which has passed over the place ; many of the brooks, which formed our winter skating and sliding places, have vanished. I looked in vain for the pool back of Deacon John Benedict's house-which I always imagined to be the scene of the ballad :
" What shall we have for dinner, Mrs. Bond ? There is beef in the larder and ducks in the pond : Dill, dill, dill, dill, dilled, Come here and be killed !"
Col. Bradley's house, that seemed once so awful and so exclusive, is now a dim, rickety, and tenantless edifice, for sale, with all its appurtenances, for twenty-five hundred dollars ! Is it not strange to see this once proud tenement, the subject of blight and decay, and that too in the midst of general pros- perity ? Nor is this all : it has just been the subject of a degrading hoax. I must tell you the story, for it will show you that the march of progress has in- vaded even Ridgefield.
About three days since there appeared in the vil- lage a man claiming to be the son-in-law of George Law. In a mysterious manner he agreed to buy the Bradley estate. With equal mystery he contracted to purchase several other houses in the vicinity. It then leaked out that a grand speculation was on foot : there was to be a railroad through Ridgefield ; the town was to be turned into a city, and a hotel, re- sembling the Astor House, was to take the place of the old dilapidated shell now upon the Bradley prem- ises ! An electric feeling soon ran through the vil- lage ; speculation began to swell in the bosom of so- ciety. Under this impulse rocks rose, rivers doubled, hills mounted, valleys oscillated. This sober town
195
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
-anchored in everlasting granite, having defied the shock of ages-now trembled in the hysterical balance of trade.
Two days passed, and the bubble burst ; the puff- ball was punctured ; the sham son-in-law of George Law was discovered to be a lawless son of a pauper of Danbury. All his operations were in fact a hoax. At twelve o'clock on Saturday night he was seized, and taken from his bed by an independent corps under Capt. Lynch. They tied him fast to a buttonwood- tree in the main street, called the Liberty Pole.
" No man e'er felt the halter draw In good opinion of the law !"
At all events, the prisoner deemed it a great incon- gruity to use an institution consecrated to the rights of man and the cause of freedom, for the purpose of depriving him of the power to seek happiness in his own way ; so about ten o'clock on Sunday morning- finding it unpleasant to be in this situation while the people went by, shaking their heads, on their way to church-he managed to get out his penknife, cut his cords, and make a bee-line for South Salem.
Farther on, proceeding northward, I found that Dr. Baker's old house-its kitchen the cradle of Ridgefield Methodism-had departed, and two or three modern edifices were near its site. Master Stebbins's house-from its elevated position at the head of the street, seeming like the guardian genius of the place-still stands, venerable alike from its dun complexion, its antique form, and its historical remem- brances. Its days may be set at a hundred years, and hence it is an antiquity in our brief chronology. It almost saw the birth of Ridgefield ; it has proba- bly looked down upon the building of every other edifice in the street. It presided over the fight of 1777. Close by, Arnold's horse was shot under him, and he, according to tradition, made a flying leap over a six-barred gate and escaped. Near its threshold
196
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
the British cannon was planted, which sent a ball into the north-eastern corner-post of 'Squire Keeler's tavern, and which, covered up by a sliding shingle, as a relic too precious for the open air, is still to be seen there.
The old house I found embowered in trees-some, primeval elms, spreading their wide branches pro- tectingly over the roof, stoop, and foreground; others - sugar maples, upright, symmetrical, and deeply verdant, as is the wont of these beautiful chil- dren of our American forest. Other trees-apples, pears, peaches, and plums, bending with fruit-oc- cupied the orchard grounds back of the house. The garden at the left seemed a jubilee of tomatoes, beets, squashes, onions, cucumbers, beans, and pumpkins. A vine of the latter had invaded a peach-tree, and a huge oval pumpkin, deeply ribbed, and now emerg- ing from its bronze hue into a golden yellow, swung aloft as if to proclaim the victory. By the porch was a thick clambering grapevine, presenting its purple bunches almost to your mouth, as you enter the door. I knocked, and Anne Stebbins, my former school- mate, let me in. She was still a maiden, in strange contrast to the prolific and progressive state of all around. She did not know me, but when I told her how I once saw her climb through the opening in the school-house wall, overhead, and suggested the blue- mixed hue of her stockings-she rallied, and gave me a hearty welcome.
You will no doubt, in some degree, comprehend the feelings with which I rambled over these scenes of our boyhood, and you will forgive, if you cannot approve, the length of this random epistle. I will tres- pass but little further upon your patience. I must repeat, that the general aspect of the town, in respect to its roads, churches, houses, lands-all show a gen- eral progress in wealth, taste, and refinement. Nor is this advance in civilization merely external. William Hawley-a most competent judge, as he has been the
-
١
197
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
leading merchant of the place for forty years-men- tioned some striking evidences of this. At the be- ginning of this century, most of the farmers were in debt, and a large part of their lands were under mort- gage : now not four farms in the place are thus en- cumbered. Then it was the custom for the men to spend a good deal of their time, and especially in winter, at the stores and taverns, in tippling and small gambling. This practice has ceased. Drunkenness, profane swearing, Sabbath-breaking, noisy night rows, which were common, are now almost wholly known. There are but two town paupers, and these are not indigenous. Education is better, higher in its stand- ard, and is nearly universal. Ideas of comfort in the modes of life are more elevated, the houses are improved, the furniture is more convenient and more abundant. That religion has not lost its hold on the conscience, is evident from the fact that three flour- ishing churches exist ; that the duties of patriotism are not forgotten, is evinced by a universal attend- ance at the polls on election days ; at the same time it is clear that religious and political discussions have lost their acerbity-thus leaving the feeling of good neighborhood more general, and the tone of humanity in all things more exalted.
Is there not. encouragement, hope, in these things -for Ridgefield is not alone in this forward march of society ? It is in the general tide of prosperity- economical, social, and moral-but an example of what has been going on all over New England-per- haps over the whole country. We hear a great deal of the iniquities in the larger cities ; but society even there, is not worse than formerly: these places-their houses, streets, prisons, brothels-are exhausted, as by an air-pump, of all their doings, good and bad, and the seething mass of details is doled out day after day, by the penny press, to appease the hunger and thirst of society for excitement. Thus, what was once hidden is now thrown open, and seems multi-
198
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
plied and magnified by a dozen powerful lenses-each making the most of it, and seeking to outdo all others in dressing up the show for the public taste. If you will make the comparison, you will see that, now, tipping over an omnibus, or the foundering of a ferry- boat, takes up more space in a newspaper than did six murders or a dozen conflagrations fifty years ago. Then the world's doings could be dispatched in a weekly folio of four pages, with pica type ; now they require forty pages of brevier, every day. Our population is increased-doubled, quadrupled, if you please - but the newspaper press has enlarged its functions a thousandfold. It costs more paper and print to determine whether a policeman of New York was born in England or the United States, than are usually consumed in telling the story of the Revolu- tionary war. This institution-the Press-has, in fact, become a microscope and a mirror-seeing all, magnifying all, reflecting all-until at last it requires a steady brain to discover in its shifting and passing panoramas the sober, simple truth. So far as the subject of which I am writing is concerned, I am satisfied that if our cities seem more corrupt than formerly, it is only in appearance and not in reality. If we hear more about the vices of society, it is be- cause, in the first place, things are more exposed to the public view, and in the next place, the moral standards are higher, and hence these evils are made the subject of louder and more noticeable comment. These obvious suggestions will solve whatever diffi- culty there may be in adopting my conclusions.
But however the fact may be as to our larger cities, it cannot be doubted that all over New England, at least, there has been a quite, but earnest and steady march of civilization-especially within the last forty years. The war of 1812 was disastrous to our part of the country ; disastrous, I firmly believe, to our whole country. In New England it checked the natural progress of society, it impoverished the peo-
199
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
ple, it debased their manners, it corrupted their hearts. Let others vaunt the glory of war ; I shall venture to say what I have seen and known. We have now had forty years of peace, and the happy advances I have noticed-bringing increased light and comfort in at every door, rich or poor, to bless the inhabitants-are its legitimate fruits. The inher- ent tendency of our New England society is to im- provement : give us peace, giving us tranquillity, and with the blessing of God we shall continue to ad- vance.
You will not suppose me to say that government can do nothing : the prosperity of which I speak is in a great measure imputable to the encouragement given, for a series of years, to our domestic indus- try. When farming absorbed society, a large part of the year was lost, or worse than lost ; because tavern haunting, tippling, and gambling were the chief re- sources of men in the dead and dreary winter months. Manufactures gave profitable occupation during this inclement period. Formerly the markets were re- mote, and we all know, from the records of universal history, that farmers without the stimulus of ready markets, sink into indolence and indifference. The protection, the encouragement, the stimulating of any of our manufacturing and mechanical industry, created home markets in every valley, along every stream- thus rousing the taste, energy, and ambition of the farmers within reach of these pervading influences. Ridgefield is not, strictly speaking, a manufacturing town ; but the beneficent operation of the multiplying and diversifying of the occupations of society, has reached this, as it has every other town and village in the State, actually transforming the condition of the people, by increasing their wealth, multiplying their comforts, enlarging their minds, elevating their sentiments : in short, increasing their happiness.
The importance of the fact I state-the progress and improvement of the country towns-is plain,
200
HISTORY OF RIDGEFIELD.
when we consider that here, and not in the great ci- ties-New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia-are the hope, strength, and glory of our nation. Here, in the smaller towns and villages, are indeed the majority of the people, and here there is a weight of sober thought, just judgment, and virtuous feeling, that will serve as rudder and ballast to our country, what- ever weather may betide.
As I have so recently travelled through some of the finest and most renowned portions of the European continent, I find myself constantly comparing the towns and villages which I see here with these for- eign lands. One thing is clear, that there are in con- tinental Europe no such country towns and villages as those of New England and some other portions of this country. Not only the exterior but the interior is to- tally different. The villages there resemble the squalid suburbs of a city : the people are like their houses- poor and subservient - narrow in intellect, feeling, and habits of thought. I know twenty towns in France-having from two to ten thousand inhabit- ants, where, if you except the prefects, mayors, no- taries, and a few other persons in each place-there is scarcely a family that rises to the least indepen- dence of thought, or even a moderate elevation of char- acter. All the power, all the thought, all the genius, all the expanse of intellect, are centred at Paris. The blood of the country is drawn to this seat and centre, leaving the limbs and members cold and pulse- less as those of a corpse.
How different is it in this country : the life, vigor, power of these United States are diffused through a thousand veins and arteries over the whole people, every limb nourished, every member invigorated ! New York, Philadelphia, and Boston do not give law to this country ; that comes from the people, the ma- jority of whom resemble those I have described at Ridgefield-farmers, mechanics, manufacturers, mer- chants - independent in their circumstances, and
201
RIDGEFIELD IN 1855.
sober, religious, virtuous in their habits of thought and conduct. I make allowance for the sinister influ- ence of vice, which abounds in some places ; for the debasing effects of demagogism in our politicians ; for the corruption of selfish and degrading interests, cast into the general current of public feeling and opinion. I admit that these sometimes make the na- tion swerve, for a time, from the path of wisdom, but the wandering is neither wide nor long. The pre- ponderating national mind is just and sound, and if danger comes, it will manifest its power and avert it.
But I must close this long letter, and with it bid adieu to my birthplace. Farewell to Ridgefield ! Its soil is indeed stubborn, its climate severe, its creed rigid ; yet where is the landscape more smiling, the sky more glorious, the earth more cheering ? Where is society more kindly, neighborhood more equal, life more tranquil? Where is the sentiment of hu- manity higher, life more blest ? Where else can you find two thousand country people, with the refine- ments of the city-their farms unmortgaged, their speech unblemished with oaths, their breath uncon- taminated with alcohol, their poor-house without a single native pauper ?
Daniel Webster once said, jocosely, that New Hamp- shire is a good place to come from : it seems to me, in all sincerity, that Ridgefield is a good place to go to. Should I ever return there to end my days, this may be my epitaph :
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.