USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Barre > Memorial of the one hundredth anniversary of the Incorporation of the town of Barre, June 17, 1874 ... > Part 12
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story, so that "to the generations to come may be known the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and his wonderful works that he hath done."
" Let children hear the mighty deeds Which God performed of old ; Which in our younger years we saw, And which our fathers told.
" Our lips shall tell them to our sons, And they again to theirs, That generations yet unborn May teach them to their heirs.
" Thus shall they learn in God alone Their hope securely stands, That they may ne'er forget his works, But practise his commands."
ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
THE author of the foregoing discourse gratefully acknowledges the careful assiduity of EDWIN WOODS, Esq., in furnishing for his use mat- ters of record and many other facts of interest. Without such aid the discourse could scarcely have been written.
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HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
NOTE TO PAGE 61.
THE REV. JONATHAN MAYHEW, D.D.
IT is with a just pride that we are able to associate the name of this dis- tinguished divine and patriot with the history of our town, how much soever the difficulties in the church, which were the occasion of his coming here, and the personal consequences to himself, are to be deplored. A single incident connected with his visit, like "the great matter which a little fire kindleth," is of historic importance.
It is generally understood that the idea of the union of all the colonies for the maintenance of their liberties was first suggested by Dr. Mayhew, and that it came to his mind while he was reflecting on the communion of the churches. It is of peculiar interest to us that the idea arose when he was meditating in his bed on the duty he was to perform during the fol- lowing week as a member of the council to be holden in this place in the case of the Rev. Mr. Frink. This is told in the letter which follows ad- dressed to James Otis : -
" LORD'S-DAY MORNING, June Sth, 1766.
" SIR, -To a good man all time is holy enough; and none is too holy to do good or to think upon it. Cultivating a good understanding and hearty friendship between these colonies appears to me to be so necessary a part of prudence and good policy that no favorable opportunity for that purpose should be omitted. I think such an one now presents.
" Would it not be proper and decorous for our assembly to send circulars to all the rest, on the late repeal of the Stamp Act and the present favor- able aspect of affairs ? - letters conceived at once in terms of friendship and regard, of loyalty to the king, filial affection towards the parent country, and expressing a desire to cement and perpetuate union among ourselves, by all laudable methods. ... Pursuing this course, or never losing sight of it, may be of the greatest importance to the colonies, perhaps the only means of perpetuating their liberties. . . . You have heard of the com- munion of churches, and I am to set out to-morrrow morning for Rutland [District, now Barre], to assist at an ecclesiastical council. While I was thinking of this in my bed the great use and importance of a communion of colonies appeared to me in a strong light; which led me immediately to set down these hints to transmit to you. Not knowing but the general court may be prorogued or dissolved before my return, or my having an opportunity to speak with you, I now give them, that you may make such use of them as you think proper, or none at all."
There was a sad termination to this visit of Dr. Mayhew. His laborious duties in the council, with the heat and fatigue of the journey, induced an illness from which he never recovered, his death in the full beauty and glory of his manhood occurring in about four weeks after his return. No death could have been the cause of a profounder sorrow to the friends of liberty, for so important was his influence regarded that Robert Treat Paine called him "The Father of Civil and Religious Liberty in America."
The measure recommended by Dr. Mayhew was deemed premature, and therefore was not, at that time, adopted. But scarcely had two years elapsed before a circular was sent to all the colonies of similar purport.
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AFTER the Discourse, the choir sang the Centennial Hymn.
The delivery of the address occupied two hours and twenty minutes. It was listened to with close attention and appreciation ; and the countenances of many told, better than words could do, how faithfully were cherished the memories of other days, and of ancestors and kindred who were brought back to recollection.
After the singing of the Ode by the choir, the audience standing, the assembly was placed in charge of the Mar- shal and his assistants, and a recess for an hour was announced for the Collation. The prompt and orderly manner in which this was served, and the quality and quantity of the supply, elicited expressions of satisfaction from all sources ; and it was a gratification to the Committee to feel that, through the careful consideration and manage- ment of the Dinner Committee, the character of the town for substantial hospitality had been so handsomely main- tained.
Though a severe shower delayed the resumption of order and quiet in the tent for nearly an hour, yet, as soon as the ceasing of the noise of the rain enabled the voice to be heard, the Band having rendered their music, the PRESI- DENT announced the exercises of the afternoon, which were resumed according to the programme, and may be found in the following pages as the manuscripts of the speakers and the science of the phonographer have pre- served them.
EXERCISES OF THE AFTERNOON.
POEM.
BY CHARLES BRIMBLECOM, EsQ.
ON yesternight, in yonder sacred tower The clock struck twelve, and in that starlit hour Of midnight, rising, swelling, fading fell The pensive music of that sweet-voiced bell On the calm air, tolling a parting knell. As the soft stealing echoes gently thrilled Night's blue dome, the expiring breath was stilled Of a century of time.
As the last chime o'er seas aerial flew, And its last ripple faint and fainter grew, Until the throb which the deep silence broke Again was still, and it no longer woke The softest murmur in our listening ears, Hushed were the voices of a hundred years. All, all, which woke, on every hill and plain, The glorious echoes of labor's grand refrain ; That leaped in accents hoarse from passion's throat, Or softly flowed in lovers' whispered note ; Which in devotion lifted up the prayer In solemn pleading for the Maker's care ; Which burst in joy from youth's hilarious morn, Or sobbed in sorrow when the heart was torn ; Whose wailing cry pierced through the heavy air As hope's bright ray was shadowed by despair ; Which rung with shouts when bloody fields were won, And patriots saw the rise of freedom's sun ;
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Which bubbled up in orgies dark and drear, When blear-eyed ribalds lingered o'er their cheer ; In busy life, in every hamlet wrought, Peaceful or stormy, full of meaning fraught ; Enamoured all with music, which inspires The air which murmurs from a thousand lyres ; The voice of prophet, patriot, and sage, Of rosy youth and venerable age ; Mystic voices, that through the stilly night Steal o'er the senses with a calm delight ; All, all of earth and of revolving spheres That sung their anthems through a hundred years, Were hushed in silence ! Silence, deep, profound, Shall hold them ever as by giant bound. Yet memory brings to our delighted ears The changeful music of the bygone years ; Enraptured thought her kindling touch inspires As her light fingers sweep the trembling wires.
A hundred years ! a sand-speck on the shore ; A bubble floating in the air ; no more ; A single drop of glistening morning dew ; A passing cloud that on the light wind flew ; A breath ; a shadow on the dial thrown ; A fleeting thought we scarce can call our own ; But in such thoughts combined we e'er shall trace All our knowledge, all wisdom of the race ; And ever, by the dial's pregnant shade, Mankind have highest calculations made ; That breath of air to some being brought The life and vigor which the sick man sought ; That passing cloud, conveying wealth untold, Dropped its rich treasure on the parching mould ; That glistening dew-drop of the morning hour Painted with beauty some opening flower ; That bubble, bursting in the noontide sun, Charmed youth's bright eye, -and all its duty done ; And formed of sand, this orb of ours to-day, Majestic on in its imperial way,
POEM. I77
Mid shining worlds, unnumbered, moves apace, Holding high converse on its revolving race. Great Century ! in the dead past lying, Dead, yet immortal art, and undying ; Voiceless, yet from thy deep silence reaching Onward, ever, with resistless teaching ; Thy light extinguished, thy refulgent glory Still emblazons all thy wondrous story.
With rapt delight would we pause, and here Recount the splendors of thy great career ; The noble past unveil, and faintly trace With simple words the progress of the race ; With hearts ablaze, a grateful tribute pay To those high spirits of another day, Whose genius lights the pathway of the past, And o'er the world shall e'er a radiance cast. But Time's swift current warns us to desist ; The fascinations of that field resist ; Plume our pinions for a lower flight, Circling o'er Barre, she our central light. And here outspread what beauties we behold ! What marvels have been wrought, changes untold ! No more Wachusett, from its hoary height, Looks down on forests dense, and dark as night ; Within whose gloomy depths no sunlight gleams To flash in beauty from their myriad streams ; Within whose dark embrace dread silence broods, And Nature lingers in her sullen moods ; Within whose covert lurks the beast of prey, The wily savage more fearful far than they ; No more dark forests and the chill morass Distil foul miasm, and from Nature's glass Pour fetid horrors, and in gases dense Spreading their fevers, breeding pestilence.
The brave Caucasian, sweeping towards the West, Over these hills his empire early pressed ; Severed the forest, dispelled the dusky shade,
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Solitude disrobed, and sweet convert made To life and home in loveliness arrayed.
A hundred hills, to the enchanted view, Kissed by the sunshine and by morning dew, Instinct with life, with swelling breasts arise, With smiling glance salute the arching skies ; Their fertile fields with lustrous beauty glow, A grateful tribute bring, with wealth o'erflow.
When the light with radiance robed the hills, With brilliance sparkled in their hundred rills, The savage beast its ancient haunts forsook, To deeper shades its rapid steps betook ; Shuddering with terror at the light of day, To its dim caves it swiftly slunk away.
The Indian too, oh, whither has he fled? To wandering life and to the forest wed, By forms untrammelled, his unbending mind Free as the air, untaught as flowing wind, By arms unconquered, his nature, howe'er rude, Defiant, proud, his spirit unsubdued, To commerce yields, and the heroic braves Leave their hunting-grounds and their fathers' graves. Not long they live the hapless day to mourn When from these happy regions they are torn ; Each, as he goes, with gloomy joy retires, Soon the last remnant of the tribe expires. Haply his spirit flies to seek his race, With them to dwell and follow still the chase.
And Peace, sweet Peace, fair goddess of the train, O'er these fair hills established her mild reign : With sweeping glance the enraptured eye will scan The mighty triumphs she has won for man. To paint the picture's beyond the power of art ; The fairest forms are traced upon the heart. The secret tablets he alone shall view Who is to home, truth, love, and nature true.
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POEM.
When France, her arms, in former times, sent forth To bear her lilies to the distant North, And there her power, her empire to maintain, O'er haughty Albion new conquests still to gain ; France, with all her glory, all her pride, With savage men and savage tribes allied, Poured barb'rous war on all her foes around, With sudden carnage often strewed the ground. No age or sex the savage foeman spared, But all alike the treacherous butchery shared ; The cry for mercy thrilled the very air ; The white-winged angel did not wander there.
'Twas then a Barré, reared in humble life, With motives high enlisted for the strife ; Well might the cry which swept across the wave His heart to pity move, his arm to save ; Well might ambition's fires within have burned, For its rewards his heart with fondness yearned ; Ancestral voices to his memory brought The wrongs of France to fleeing Huguenot ; Full well his loyal heart a tribute bring Devotion to his country and her king. O'er the wild tempestuous seas he sailed, Canadian shores with all their dangers hailed ; Through tedious years he bore his country's arms Through every peril and all of war's alarms ; His valiant arm no tremor ever knew, But glory sought where dangers thickest flew ; Intrepid daring displayed on every hand, Attention gained from those in high command ; On many a stormy field, his duty done, Heroic valor the prize of honor won ; From rank to rank he rose, and soon his name, Through gallant deeds, was wedded high to fame.
Gigantic blows the arms of England gave ; Nought the power of Imperial France could save : Louisburg, Quebec, latest Montreal, In quick succession bravely fighting fall.
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France an empire lost, - for man and Albion Courage, patience, genius, an empire won. 'Twas Barré, on the grateful errand sent, Bore the great tidings to his government ; Britain's heart with ecstatic joy o'erflowed ; With wild enthusiasm, lavishly bestowed Triumphal honors on her legions brave, Who to her sway a mighty province gave : In every form her high applause declared, And welcomed Barré, who the honor shared.
Through desperate years 'twas Barré's to inhale The breath of freedom borne on every gale ; And, when returning to his native shore, Columbia's spirit in his heart he bore. Of noble form, cast in heroic mould, Crowned with a head whose pose and feature told Where'er he moved what spirit dwelt within, To what high nature his was most akin. Temper keen he had as the steel he bore, A mind as brilliant as the sword he wore ; A courage, dauntless as a lion's, his ; A heart as tender as a woman's is ; A tongue with native eloquence inspired, Smoothed by the graces in the schools acquired : Loyal to King, to Liberty as well His pulses throb, his generous breast doth swell : Over his life his genius threw the charms Which of all caste the prejudice disarms : And honors cluster ; Barré soon is sent Chosen as member of parliament. Soon his quick eye perceived the deep intent Of royal power towards this continent. His ardent soul against the scheme rebelled, With brilliant speech provincial rights upheld ; Before the foe in arms he never quailed, And the new contest cheerfully he hailed ; Where'er Columbia's foeman ever breathed Barré's keen-edged cimeter was unsheathed ;
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His voice he raised, its signal warning gave To king and parliament our rights to save. However hopeless for freedom to contend, She found in Barré a patron and a friend. With Burke and Chatham side by side he wrought, And many a contest gloriously fought. Such, such the man whose fame our fathers prized, In whose high name these noble hills baptized. In honored measure let his name be sung, Let every banner to the breeze be flung ; And may his spirit ever here reside, His love of freedom o'er these hills preside : Through all the past its pure and lustrous ray Has led our sons along the darkest way.
When Sumpter's thunders pealed along the sky, Mingling close with Freedom's piercing cry, And myriad bondmen, crouched in fear and dread As hope's bright vision seemed for ever fled, Turned to the North a pallid, pleading face, To brother men, though of another race ; At that sad time, when madness ruled the hour, And fiercely threatened, if it had the power, A nation's starry banner should be furled, And Freedom's light extinguished for the world ; When patriot hearts, to jealous thoughts unused, Found Treason's genius all the air infused, And strove, with matchless cunning, to install Her seat of power within the capitol ; When President and Senates gravely sat With fear and trembling in the Halls of State, Not knowing sure who would be friend or foe, Or who, in secret, strike a fatal blow : - 'Twas then our Lincoln, anxious, hoping, sent Electric flashes o'er a continent, Calling for aid, but only for a few, Who, free from treason's wiles, would e'er be true, And bear aloft the red, the white, and blue.
Most glorious moment of recorded time ! Thy praise shall sound through every age and clime !
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That lightning flash, that sped along the wire, Touched every soul with an electric fire : A light divine illumed the Northern sky, The grand auroral flaming its reply : A power unseen assumed supreme control, And held its sway o'er every Northern soul : Sublime enthusiasm for a while possessed The inmost recess of every Northern breast ; Every hill and valley found a tongue, And with the noble rapture grandly rung ; From where Atlantic's mighty surges roar, To the remote Pacific's peaceful shore, Millions of hearts seemed welded into one, One answer gave to Treason's signal gun ; All, as one spirit, bent a devotee To God, and Country, Union, Liberty. Treason shuddered at the amazing sight, Astonished Europe gazed with no delight ; While suffering man, where'er the tidings flew, High hope and courage and sweet comfort drew.
In the great contest, which history shall trace, The sons of Barre held an honored place : During the strife, from many a battle-field A son of Barre was borne upon his shield. O'er the wide range of war's majestic tread Rise the green barrows of her noble dead.
In that rugged vale, where the waters roar Along the rocky bed of Shenandoah ; Where, year by year, beside the rolling flood, In dread array the hostile armies stood ; O'er whose red fields the clouds of battle hung, And storm and strife in furious accents rung ; Where ebbed and flowed and flowed and ebbed the tide Of legions grim, as oft, from side to side, The changing fortunes of the contest swayed, And victory halted, and was long delayed ; Where not alone, in open strife arrayed, The foe met foe, and with closed ranks assayed
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POEM.
The conflict fierce, where shot and bursting shell And gleaming steel of awful carnage tell ; But wily foes, in every form concealed, Kept their keen watch in telescopic field ; 'Twas here our Woods received his fatal wound, And Piedmont's field to us is hallowed ground. Young, able, cultured, of high promise, he Gave all he had to God and Liberty.
At early dawn, on one September day, A peaceful vale in sleeping beauty lay ; By rise of sun were plainly to be seen The glistening arms of many thousand men ; In threatening order darkly do they stand Along the crests of hills on either hand ; By second set of sun how changed the vale ! Let War's dread record tell the fearful tale Of clashing arms, the crashing, deafening roar That from the throbbing throats of batteries pour ; Of whistling bullet and the screaming shell, The shout of onset and responsive yell ; The bugle's blare, the cry of agony From dying braves as on the field they lie ; The fearful gaps in living columns rent By conquering missiles on death's errand sent ; The ghastly faces, upturned to the sky, Who've shown how men could do and how could die ; Of the fair fields in mighty ridges torn, Of all their smiling beauty quickly shorn ; Of hills that shuddered at the appalling sight, And skies that welcomed the approaching night ; How raged the contest until set of sun, And then the fearful work was scarcely done ; Where Mars this hideous legacy bestowed, And where Antietam's crimson current flowed, 'Twas there young Holbrook, noble, brave, and true, Closed his bright eye and bade the world adieu.
Where moved the loyal arms, in morn's clear light, In open fields for the stern bristling height
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Of Fredericksburg, from whose sheltered crests All war's high enginery upon the breasts Of loyal, unprotected men with dire Destruction hurled an avalanche of fire ; And shattered columns halt, but quickly close, And steady move undaunted toward their foes, Again to meet the avalanche of death, Where hundreds disappear as with a breath ; 'Twas here young Friar, our adopted son, Closed his career and honor bravely won. An ardent, generous Celt, he freely gave All with which nature had endowed the brave.
Not he alone who boldly met the foe Where steel crossed steel, and in the heat and glow Of battle glory won, but also he Who lay 'neath scorching suns, in agony Of fell disease, encountered perils high, That called for courage, patience, constancy. And many a hero's life, like morning dew, With lofty patience faded from the view. And so our Ainsworth bravely passed away, And o'er his head we'd drop a tear to-day ; The blood of revolutionary sires Kindled his heart with freedom's holy fires ; The patriot heart of Lee was born anew, And gave an Ainsworth to his country too ; In distant clime, near Mississippi's flow, He gently rests, where leafy maples grow, And o'er his grave a grateful shadow throw ; And round his couch perpetual roses bloom. Oh, sweetest rose, embalm the patriot's tomb ! Then, southern breezes, bring us their perfume !
But Newbern, Port Hudson, and Gettysburg, Cold Harbor, New Market, and Petersburg, Bisland, Lynchburg, and Spottsylvania, Had every one its own terrific day, O'er whose hot fields the sons of Barre trod, And found their rest beneath the crimson sod.
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Heroic sons ! our jewels nobly set, The shining brilliants in our coronet ; Go count them now, their names are deeply traced In marble tablets, not to be effaced, On yonder shaft which loving hearts have reared In reverent memory of the gallant dead ; Where now Columbia's Eagle sorrowing sits With drooping wing, and ne'er his watch remits ; Whose fearless heart, whose sleepless, blazing eye, Shall guard the fame which never now shall die !
Spirit of Barré ! in thy glorious flight Through upper worlds, in the pure realms of light, Thou'lt find our children sitting by thy side, From Freedom's battles gathered far and wide. And here to-day in flower of manhood stand The comrades of the dead, a gallant band ; Through equal peril, equal valor shone, And every heart, by noble deeds, is won.
Where yonder cross and towering spires arise To lead the toilworn wanderer to the skies, We mark the way wherein our fathers trod, And reverent bow to Thy great name, O God ! To Thee our sires, through all the ancient days, With hearts united, joined in prayer and praise : 'Twas then this people one sweet impulse felt, And at one shrine with pure devotion knelt ; Led by one spirit, by one common thought, In one temple Thy holy presence sought.
As memory wanders back to former years, A noble form before us reappears ; For fifty years he led our wayward feet To Thy green pastures, and by waters sweet : With quiet dignity himself he bore ; With modest piety his heart ran o'er ; His spirit gentle, with humility impressed, With tender sympathy for all distressed :
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Wherever sorrow brooded o'er the heart, His tender words, beyond the power of art, Oft rent the cloud and let the sunshine through ; The night dispersed with heavenly light and dew ; O'er gaping wounds he poured the heavenly balm To soothe the anguish, keenest pangs disarm.
Wherever joyous transport ruled the hour, And budding life unfolds the sweetest flower ; And when from higher worlds seemed come to this Love's brightest angel bearing heavenly bliss, And loving hearts the nuptial tie confessed, His genial presence was a welcome guest ; And from his heart a sacred current flowed, And its blessed sanction on the scene bestowed ; A holy influence seemed to fill the air, And leave a blessing on the happy pair ..
His Christian faith ! oh, what words can tell Its simple beauty and its magic spell ! It on his spirit sat as sweet and mild As filial trust and virtue on a child ; As its deep current poured itself in prayer, The listening throng could but its influence share ; And sweet charity so his soul imbued No bigot thought could e'er its front intrude ; While flowing eloquence inspired his tongue, And Christian hearts on the smooth accents hung. 'Twas twenty years in May's sweet month of bloom 1
We laid his honored dust within the tomb ; His ransomed spirit to its glorious rest Flew, a winged angel to its Master's breast. Revered and honored he, both far and wide, The world a Christian lost when Thompson died.
In social life we've steady progress made, On social customs waged a fierce crusade ; On Washingtonian waves we launched a sail, And spread the canvas to the favoring gale,
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POEM.
The pirate craft from the wide sea to sweep, To seize and scuttle and sink them in the deep ; And Rum's black banner for a time went down, And Temperance streamers flew above the town ; The light of burning liquors rising high, A Temp'rance calcium flaming in the sky, Warning of sunken reef and hidden rock, Where many a gallant bark with fearful shock To pieces went, nor dreamed of peril there, 'Till hope's fair promise changed to grim despair. All approved methods, known to modern days, We've tested well to purify our ways ; One method only here has been employed, Less favored regions have not yet enjoyed. We trust, however, none will envy us ; But the tradition tells the story thus : -
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