USA > Massachusetts > Franklin County > Conway > History of Conway (Massachusetts) 1767-1917 > Part 14
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ADDRESS OF MR. HOWLAND.
Citizens of Conway, Ladies and Gentlemen :-
It was with sincere pleasure that I accepted your kind invi- tation to take part in the joyous proceedings of this happy and memorable day. This pleasure is now greatly increased when I find you celebrating the day in a manner that tells of the happi- ness that is in your hearts, and of the prosperity that is within your homes. On such a year as this, when your fields are all waving in their luxuriant and fruitful green, when the trees are spreading their well filled branches in the summer air, when the country around you is at peace, and happy homes your portion, it is with peculiar fitness that we meet to celebrate and to honor this birthday of American Independence.
The history of the past two years has been at variance with the traditions of our fathers, and our responsibility has greatly increased. For the present, at least, this departure has brought new power to our country and new luster to its name, but what the final outcome will be no one can as yet foretell. We feel assured, however, that it was not by mere chance that our new and large possessions were made over to the United States. It was not by a sudden impulse that an able, farsighted secretary, himself a native of Conway, created for this country a powerful navy in time of peace. It was not simply an incident that our warships were manned and controlled by surpassingly skillful men. It was not a mere accident that an officer of our navy sailed into the harbor of an illustrious foe and overwhelmed them with defeat and won the victory. It was not a mere bit of good fortune at Cuba that enabled our men-of-war to meet one after another of that proud Spanish fleet and send them down ingloriously. What shall we say then? Can we not see that each of these events was a part of one great plan formed by a wisdom more than mortal? that
"Behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own."
On this anniversary day, while a loyal people are recalling the wisdom and the glorious deeds of their fathers, out and beyond our former boundaries, and in the islands of the sea,
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men and women of another race are many of them now, for the first time, tuning their voices to unite with ours in singing the sweet and inspiring songs of liberty.
Long may this country stand! Long may this union of states be welded and strengthened! Long may this nation truly be, the home of the brave and the land of the free!
All through our vast domain we are rejoicing to-day in our country's prosperity and power. Here in Conway we have also another inspiring theme.
On a beautiful June day six years ago, close by the banks of a great inland sea, a large concourse of people, estimated at . 10,000, and embracing the leading representative citizens of the great central city of this continent, were wending their way to Jackson Park, one of the largest and finest in that city, to listen to a scholarly address about to be delivered by one of her most accomplished citizens. It was an ideal day. A gentle breeze swept over Lake Michigan and stirred its silvery waves. The fleecy clouds shut out the sun's fierce glare, and all was quiet, serene, and beautiful.
The occasion for the gathering of this vast concourse was the dedication of the great Field Columbian Museum, presented to Chicago by several of her citizens, of whom by far the largest contributor was a son of Conway, in whose honor the great museum was named. The primary purpose of this splendid gift was to retain in that city many of the beautiful exhibits which the nations of the world had sent to the world's great fair just closed, and which exhibits they were willing to leave in grateful recognition of what the city had done for them and for the world's advancement. The imperial gift of this fine museum appealed to the municipal pride of that large audience, and filled them with gratitude to him who had the ability and the desire to give this great impulse to the city's progress in the cause of an enlightened education. Scattered through that vast throng there were here and there those who felt not only a municipal but almost a fraternal pride in him whose generosity had made that great acquisition possible, for they had known him from the beginning; they, like you, had watched his marvelous career, and, with you, felt that they might still claim him as almost their very own.
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To-day separated from that scene by more than one thousand miles, as well as by six years of constant progress, we have gath- ered in this beautiful New England town to lay the corner stone of a new library building, to be erected, furnished, and equipped by that same son of Conway, and, on its completion, to be pre- sented by him to the village of his birth.
The museum was a graceful tribute to the city of his adoption, where his entire business life had been passed.
The library is a loving tribute to his native town, and to be dedicated to the memory of his father and mother.
Many in this audience knew those parents well. They lived, labored, and died here in Conway, and left to their children and to this town the priceless legacy of honorable and blameless lives. They rest together in yonder cemetery, and there among their neighbors and friends quietly await the bright dawning of the eternal day. We know that the citizens of this town will protect and guard well that sacred burial place, and we also know your recent action will awaken the interest and the grati- tude of the sons and daughters of Conway all through this land who have also placed their loved ones there.
The library is the storehouse of the world's knowledge, and through it the dim light of ancient history sends down to us its illuminating rays. It was on tables of stone that God made known his will. In the ruins of Nineveh, tablets of baked clay have been discovered. Seventeen hundred years before the Christian era, Chaldean libraries are said to have been formed, . and we read that fourteen hundred years before Christ, a library was placed in the tomb of an Egyptian king. The first public library described in history was founded at Athens five hundred years before Christ; the first private library was that of Aristotle three hundred and thirty-four years before the Christian era. It was forty-eight years before Christ that the great library at Alexandria was destroyed. It is said to have included every known literary work of that time, Egyptian, Jewish, Greek, Latin, Phoenician, Chaldean, Syrian, and Persian, and the world will never cease to mourn its loss. A collection of books in the modern sense requires an advanced and elaborate civilization. The art of printing gave a great impulse to the formation of libraries; for in this way numerous copies of books may be re-
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produced, and all through the civilized world libraries have been established.
Conway has long had the desire to possess a valuable library, but never until now has this desire been sure of its fulfillment. This one we know will be carried forward to a beautiful com- pletion. A social library was formed in Conway by Edward Hitchcock in 1821, when he was the pastor of the Congregational church. He afterwards, as you know, became the president of Amherst College. The library formed by him was managed and used by its members until 1870, when it was transferred to the town and opened to the public. Eight years after, it was nearly destroyed by fire, but the town had learned its value, and felt keenly the loss. At the annual town meeting two months later, a new town library was established, a few books were purchased, and in the following autumn it was opened, but it was not made free to the citizens of the town until six years ago. A more complete library has been greatly needed. A fine library is at once a guide, a help, and an inspiration. It brings to us the wisdom of the ages, and puts us in communication with the best thought of the world. Its influence is refined and elevating and can be enjoyed by all. All that is required is the ability to read, but with this there should be cultivated the habit of thought and of reflection. The library should make of every man a student, and it serves, perhaps, more than any other influence to broaden the life of a people. It opens up new subjects for study. We go to the library as to the source of knowledge. The reading of the same books creates kindred thought, and furnishes subject for pleasant conversation. The use of a library by persons of different tastes enables each to pursue his favorite study, and then by free discussion to lead others along his own path, and in either way, the intellectual life of a community will be broadened and enriched. The people will become united in intellectual growth and friendship; by a long continued study of the best authors of our race, the life of every man should become purified and exalted. The library will become a social center in the com- munity, where each can find congenial companionship. When this library is completed, no citizen of Conway need say, "I have no place to go." Go to the library. Read there of the world's needs and of the world's progress. Learn of the great and beauti-
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ful world lying all around you. It is during the quiet hours of study and reflection that great results are most frequently achieved. In the realm of agriculture, in mechanics, in science, and in literature, there are many interesting subjects, both old and new, and many questions waiting, it may be, for you to solve. In the old familiar ways or in new and untried paths, there is room for all. With eyes wide open, and with mind alert, with a fine library close at hand, there is room for every thoughtful, practical man to find his opportunity. He will find here books which will suggest new subjects for his thought and reflection, and in his own pursuit, whatever it may be, he should find delightful companionship. There will be books to teach the artisan, to help the inventor, to increase the knowledge of the manufacturer, and to broaden the life of the merchant. The library will furnish the professional man with food for his thought, facts for his arguments, and subjects for his illustrations. The library will bring to your home, yes, to your very fireside, not the bodily but the intellectual presence of the most learned and thoughtful the world has known. They will discourse to you in their most elevated and purest strains, and furnish you with the results of their long continued study and meditation. They will lead you along the pleasant paths which they have traveled, they will disclose to you their thoughts and their experience, and their signboards will mark the way. They will walk by your side and point out to you their discoveries, until, by their com- panionship, your own life may become enriched and benefited.
Are you fond of history? A Pliny, a Gibbon, or a Macaulay will tell you the story of the glorious past. Do you care to hear of more modern life? A Bancroft, a Parkman, or a Fiske will narrate to you in a delightful way facts and circumstances with which you may be already somewhat familiar. Are you in- terested in astronomy? Take to your home the works of Herschel, and then with Chambers or Todd for your guide go out and study the beauty and the glory of the heavens. Locate the constellations. Learn their names, and become familiar with the stars. Study the mystery of other worlds, all moved and directed by the same Almighty hand.
Are you interested in electricity? Come and read of recent discoveries. Study the unfolding of this marvelous power, and
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meditate upon its wonderful possibilities. Are you fond of poetry? Read again, and yet again, the dramas of Shakespeare; listen to the splendid verse of Scott; the charming lines of Byron and to the rhythmic verse of Moore and of Burns. Tennyson may bring you unfailing pleasure; Lowell may be your delight; Whittier your friend; and Longfellow your charming companion. Will Homer and Virgil interest you more? Here they are, await- ing the touch of your friendly hand. Would you learn of war and the formation and leadership of armies? Come, enter the chariot of Cæsar while he makes known to you his plans. Ride out to the war with Napoleon, and become acquainted with his wonderful career. Spend your evenings with Grant and with Sherman, and study their plans, their battles, and their victories. Would you know of the world's great orators? Come and listen to the inspiring orations of Cicero, to the thrilling words of Demosthenes; read in the quiet of your own room Webster's reply to Hayne; listen to Patrick Henry's clarion call; and let your soul be stirred with the burning eloquence of Wendell Phillips. All these, men of superior thought and of power, will come to you again and again, and give you always of their very best. Not the passing of transient thought, but the result of their study and reflection. Fear them not. They will not weary of you, and will allow you to close the interview at will, and with no semblance of discourtesy.
The founding of a library is a grand conception and a great blessing. It is a double blessing; it blesses him that gives and him that takes. It is a great privilege for one to have the ability to make this fine gift. It is much more to have the disposition to help and benefit mankind.
Many of you will remember Leigh Hunt's beautiful conception of one
"Who awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold.
*
The names of those who loved the Lord."
But you will remember that when the book was finished the
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first on that roll of honor was, "The name of one who loved his fellow-men."
The founding' of a public library brings with it an increase of responsibility. Such an influence cannot be created in your midst and the town remain the same. The intellectual standing of this community may be greatly elevated by its presence; but there comes the obligation to use it; if used faithfully and intelligently, this obligation will become a pleasure, and be ever a new source of happiness. But the community, like the in- dividual, cannot remain at rest. There is, in fact, no time for inaction. The years are hastening by and neither you nor I can stay the resistless progress.
Not long ago I heard an able minister picture to his congrega- tion the many delightful pursuits in which in early life he had hoped to engage, and as one intellectual pleasure after another was described, he ended each with the sad words, "But alas! there is no time."
Are you more than familiar with your own life's pursuit, and do you sometimes become wearied with the daily routine? Are you occupied day after day with the same thoughts, and walking on in paths well worn? By means of some interesting book, which you will find in this library, you may seek another's guidance. In the same path with you or in kindred pursuits you may find new pleasure in his thoughts and experience. You may with him pass beyond the usual limitations of your own reflections, and enter his world of thought and of investigation. You will there find much that is old, but you may find much more that is new.
We live in a progressive age. The mind is reaching out in all directions. There seems to be no limit to its investigations and its discoveries. The wisdom of yesterday is ignorance to-day. Have you ever reflected how down through the ages there has existed a wonderfully marvelous power close at hand unknown to our ancestors, unknown to the world, almost wholly beyond human knowledge? Franklin had a suggestion of this power in the lightning, but the limitations of his busy life pre- vented any complete investigation. But within the last twenty- five years how much has been revealed! In one way a power is generated almost beyond our comprehension. By a mere contact
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of wires, we see trains of cars filled with their living freight speeding along through city and country, and up and down our hills. By another method, a heat is produced almost beyond human measurement. In still another way, a light shines forth, too intense for mortal vision to endure its splendor. Still again, by this power, the thought, even the human voice, is borne through space with the speed of the lightning, and the mystery of life is also within its grasp. And yet, all through the ages, this power has existed the same as now, but the wisest men of the world failed to discover its properties and barely recognized its existence. What are the limitations of electricity? and when will electric discovery reach its full development? Probably not in your lifetime or mine.
To-day I am reminded that more than forty years have passed since some of those who are gathered here went out from this town to take their part in the world of men, but it requires no words of mine to assure you that forty years are not long enough to destroy the love or weaken the loyalty which the sons of Conway cherish for their native town.
"We love her rocks and rills, Her woods and templed hills."
And when I came to-day, walking up from my early home, and stood once more on yonder hill where each day the first rays of the morning sun stream down into your village, "My heart with rapture thrilled" at this familiar and ever inspiring scene. I could not but notice that during the last forty years changes have been going on in Conway. I missed the old church with its lofty spire. The old academy with its delightful memories and associations has given place to one more compact in its dimensions. Forests wave where fields were bare: And now the electric cars are speeding along yonder hillside. Instead, too, of the old friends, we then knew so well, we look into the faces of another generation. But the outline of the village re- mains unaltered, and the old hills are just the same. Far to the north I could discern the familiar outline of Shelburne's Moun- tain, while close at hand Arms's beautiful grove still casts its grateful shade; and over and beyond the village, I noticed the modest home of the first pastor of the town, who for more than
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forty years led, preached, and prayed for this people. His life with those long years of service is now well-nigh forgotten. But the old home is still conspicuous by reason of the two fine elms of lofty branch and of great beauty, one of which, tradition says, was brought home as a riding switch and planted there by the ld pastor on returning from one of his long horseback rides to oston. On each Sabbath morning one hundred years ago, when the church bell sounded the hour of worship, the old pastor could be seen, with his Bible, his hymn-book, and his sermon, walking down to the village church, while at the same appointed hour, down from the neighboring hills, and up from their valley homes, his faithful parishioners were gathering in. It was the Sabbath, and each one knew his duty and his place. The father of the family took his seat at the head of the pew; the faithful mother sat in quiet dignity at the other end; and each one recognized the fact in those early days, that no family could be regarded as complete until at least six little boys and girls occupied the intervening space. John Emerson came to this town when the population was about 400, and, as he afterwards expressed it, "It was literally John preaching in the wilderness." During his pastorate, the population increased to 2,000. He was eminently a prayerful and devoted minister, of dignified presence, and ready of speech, until in later years an impediment somewhat marred his pulpit utterances, but it was scarcely perceptible in his devotional exercises, showing, it was said, that it was more natural for him to pray than to converse.
Two other distinguished men have occupied the Congrega- tional pulpit in this town, and left their impress here,-men who commenced their ministerial life in Conway. They were pastors and students, and afterwards both became college presidents, both were teachers and leaders of men. One was Edward Hitchcock, whose active mind and desire for knowledge led him to organize the first library here, and also led him in his investi- gations out among the woods and fields of Conway, until be became at length one of the greatest geologists and teachers of his time; he became
"That Reverend sage who loved to trace Creation through the rocks, And on the Rock of Ages, place His academic flocks.
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Oh, the grandest man of men, good sirs, In the days when we were boys,
Held royal reign o'er heart and brain, In the days when we were boys."
Still later Samuel Harris served his first pastorate here, and here acquired those habits of thought and reflection that enabled him also to become one of the leading theologians and teachers of his generation. One year ago he passed away, a grand old man, wise and full of years.
For each of us, I am sure, these hills, these valleys, these dwellings and these streets, are filled with pleasant memories and interesting traditions.
Citizens of Conway, do you appreciate the marvelous beauty of these valleys and hills? Didst thou ever drive down along the old hill road to Whately, and pausing before that scene of beauty, look out over the Connecticut valley clad in the varie- gated carpeting of its summer loveliness? Didst thou in the early morning ever climb to the summit of Field's Hill and look out on that surpassing scene? Years ago when I was a boy, the young people went up there again and again to watch the rising sun, and in memory's light I see it still. Out to the right we looked on the undulating summits of Mounts Holyoke and Tom. Directly in front we could see the tower and surrounding build- ings of Amherst College. Farther to the north, stood old Sugar Loaf
"Gazing with changeless brow upon a scene changing to fairer beauty evermore,"
while still further to the left we could discern on a clear morning, out on the dim and distant horizon, where
"A score of piney miles still smooth the rough Monadnock to a gem."
Do you know, my friends, that these charming scenes also have an influence in shaping the characters of your daughters and your sons? There is the library of books, there is the library of nature, and both will soon be beautifully blended in this fair New England town. I remember a few years ago Dr. Richard Salter Storrs, that fine scholarly old man who has so recently passed away, came to Chicago, and a meeting was called of the alumni
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of his college to do him honor, knowing well that his presence would also honor us. I remember that after referring to the fine opportunities for acquiring an education which a New England college offers to her sons in its regular course of study, he said that if any young man who had no especial liking for the regular routine of college requirements was given a congenial book and placed out under one of New England's fine old elms, if he spent the most of his time among the fields, in the forests, along her water brooks, or in climbing her hills, that if he there studied nature from nature's purest source, and if he had the heart to take it in, all this of itself would be an education, and of this class, back in its early days, Amherst College had one distinguished representative. She numbers among her alumni no more brilliant name than that of Henry Ward Beecher. Some years ago I heard him deliver a public address in a neighboring town. During that address he left for a moment his subject, and referred to his early life in New England. He pictured to us the hills and the valleys, the forests, the rivers, and the skies, as no other man could picture them. He opened our eyes and our under- standings that we might see and appreciate these charming scenes, which could so bless and illumine our lives. Yes, it was while living among the hills and valleys of Western Massachusetts that Beecher's soul went out to nature, and through those studies of nature up to nature's God, so completely that in after life when he referred again to these charming scenes, with which in youth he was so familiar, the word, the thought, was never wanting, but only time to give them their full expression.
To those of us who live out on the wide level plains of the West, I know of nothing more delightful than to come back in the early days of summer and look again on these New England hills. To those of us who are passing our lives amid the engross- ing activities of the great central city of this continent, I know of nothing more restful, more helpful, than to come back to this fine old town and enjoy here a few days of summer rest and recreation; so quiet it is, so distinct from the busy whirl of metropolitan life.
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