USA > Massachusetts > Hampden County > Longmeadow > Proceedings at the centennial celebration of the incorporation of the town of Longmeadow, October 17th, 1883 > Part 3
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It is his ordination day, October 18, 1716, just one hundred and sixty-seven years ago to-day. A great assembly held abroad. Samuel Keep makes suitable provision at the pre- cinct's cost for the entertainment of the reverend elders and other gentlemen that may be present; application made to the quarter sessions to license Nathaniel Bliss to make provision for entertaining the promiscuous crowd. The church is gathered : " And those of us whose names are hereto suffixed did give our- selves to God and to Jesus Christ, and did promise to walk together in a faithful attendance of all God's holy institutions
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in order to His glory, and the edification of our own souls, and the souls of our children.
STEPHEN WILLIAMS, NATHANIEL BLISS, 2d,
THOMAS COLTON, Sr., JONATHAN ELY,
DANIEL COOLEY,
THOMAS BLISS,
GEORGE COLTON,
SAMUEL BLISS, 4th."
NATHANIEL BURT, Jr.,
True history is to a large degree personal. It revolves around its central characters. Such were these nine founders of the "First Church of Christ in Longmeadow"-its catholic and unsectarian name ;- " Congregational " is the suffix of a later day. Who are these men ? Of their leader, Stephen Williams-in the sum total of his character and molding influence, our foremost man-I shall speak hereafter. Would that the time permitted me to make larger mention of these laymen, each a representa- tive of our leading and characteristic families, the staunch sup- porters who called Stephen Williams to his work and gave him his opportunity. I trust it will not seem invidious if I select one to represent the rest. These men and their associates, with their successors of later day, were all of good English stock, a remarkably homogeneous community, some entitled to the address of Mr., but generally yeomen or freeholders, of that degree in the fatherland next to the English gentry ; singularly independent, and tenacious of their personal rights ; men of affairs and able to manage them ; not so highly educated as William Pynchon, but understanding the supreme value of mental training, they will have no other than a learned ministry. Omitting then, because compelled to, the particular mention that might well be given in large detail of the Coltons, Burts, Cooleys, Blisses, Elys, Keeps, Hales, Fields, Stebbinses, Wolworths, Whites, Steels, Booths, Chandlers, Coomeses, Wolcotts, Ashleys, McGregorys, Dwights, Peases, and other honorable names, let me give you an outline
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sketch of one man from our most numerous family, Capt. Thomas Colton, son of " Quartermaster-George."
"As a military officer," says. Stephen Williams in his funeral sermon, "active, forward, daring, ready ; upon the least intima- tion of hostile approach, upon the wing ; he underwent great hardships and fatigues in tedious marches all night long ; exact in discipline, yet the darling of his company. He always began and ended his trainings with prayer ; as master of his family a very Joshua ; as a neighbor he set before you an excel- lent pattern of industry ; always ready for offices of love and kindness ; of a catholic spirit, he always showed a great concern for the public ; always pleased with any measures for reformation ; he was very remarkable in the gift and grace of prayer ; wonderful in the aptness and pertinency of his expres- sions. Oh! how have I heard him wrestling with God for this place, for the outpouring of his spirit, and the welfare of the ris- ing generation." These are but a few bold strokes of the pic- ture. You see the man.
The pastor elect is not married ; he is not engaged. But he expects to be, and it is the general expectation. He delays the acceptance of his call till things are well provided, the original terms amended, three or four acres fenced and broken up for an orchard in the home lot he shall choose, two more lots fenced out forty rods backward from the street; £200 settlement. The young minister is sagacious ; " £55 for this present year and if God continue him in the ministry among us, to add as we are able, and his circumstances may require," is too hypothetical. When Nathaniel Burt and Samuel Bliss are chosen "to go to Mr. Williams and acquaint him with the mind of the society"-they come back. Instructed at another meeting, to report better terms, " and further to add to, or to add to if his necessity calls for it," they go, and come back again ; until finally, at another
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meeting of the precinct, the Honored Col. Pynchon being pres- ent, it is voted without any "ifs" or contingencies of provi- dence, "at the end of eight years from May 4, 1715, to add to Mr. Williams's salary (which will then be £70) £5 per annum." And now, he accepts the call, and although seven months before his ordination, proceeds to build his house. It is two storied, with huge central chimney, generous fireplace, spa- cious north and south rooms and ample kitchen, built for a large family and hospitable intentions. The diary reads : " This morn- ing I heard that my neighbor Brooks is uneasy because of my house being so stately. I have heard of others that speak meanly and reproachfully of me. God forgive them and help me heartily to do it. O Lord, help me to walk inoffensively, so that none may have occasion to speak ill of me ; help me, O Lord, to do my duty, and by no means to neglect that, to curry favor with man. Man had better be angry with me than God." This is the key-note of all his patient and successful future.
He is setting himself down for a ministry of sixty-six years- but he needs a wife. It is the wedding day, July 3, 1718. The Stamford meeting-house is packed. Father Williams begins with prayer ; Father Davenport preaches, and then joins his daughter Abigail to the Longmeadow minister. Another prayer and singing, and the bridegroom remarks: "Being before so great an assembly, it made the case look very solemn to me,"-and quite as solemn to the bride, if we may judge from the reveren- tial style of a letter to her lover a few days before the wedding.
Reverend and Worthy Sir : Missing the opportunity by our Deputies of Sending a few Lines, but willing to Gratify you in that which you was pleased when here to say would be a particular Gratification to you, in doing of which Good Sir, I would desire might not be for my being exposed, altho' there may be justly faults found by your critical eye, yet I would, if I did but know how Modestly crave your favorable thought, hoping that these lines may find you in good health, as at present I am, through ye goodness
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of God, for which I desire to be thankful. . Please, Good Sir, to pardon my boldness and freedom as to one thing, which might have been spoken to, but was not when you was here. 'Tis Customary by some to have Gloves alike for color. If you pleas to have them like mine, Sir, you may get white. Valuable Sir, be not angry, if one who would desire to be made a comfort rather than a trouble to you, should desire a remembrance by you in your petitions at ye throne of grace. Suffer me to beg your pardon once again for my burdening you with such scrolls. I would not be tedious, but Subscribe myself, Sir, your very observant, and hopefully well affected,
ABIGAIL DAVENPORT.
It is a festal day when the happy pair escorted by their cavalcade draw rein like Canterbury pilgrims at the new Longmeadow parsonage. Their neighbors have prepared a royal feast. There are anagrams too, and acrostics, "On the happy marriage of Rev. Mr. Stephen Williams with that virtuous gentlewoman, Madam Abigail Davenport." Let us quote a specimen line or two :
How happily two names are mett, Two names of note and of Renown ; The foremost here in order sett Is Stephen which denotes a crown The other name is Abigail, A Father's joy it signifies ; Which Twain conjoyning will not not fail Of sounding forth sweet Harmonys.
The Precinct and the Pastor are fairly launched. They man- age the temporalities ; his is the care of souls; - and yet, no cloistered monk or moldy celibate, he has enough of worldly business to make him practical, to identify him with his people's daily life. He must take care of his orchard after they have broken it up; improve the ministry lands that are perquisites of his salary ; turn the various grains that stand for half his stipend into beef and milk and pork ; must know how to deal with hired men, and with men of high degree, to entertain strangers, to
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consult and advise in a thousand cases that demand prudence, courage, tact, and sympathy.
The people accord a certain pre-eminence to their minister, but it is no blind loyalty. They are very sturdy in their inde- pendence. They will do their own work in their own way, their own time, in open meeting, under their own moderator, and he a layman. Everything must be discussed and re-discussed, voted up and voted down. Out of this "heats and uneasiness," but these are incidental to the republican training. The anxious pastor prays continually, and the meeting-house progresses gradually; at first, the square, barn-like frame, pyramidal roof, and central bell-tower, but no bell for twenty-seven years,- voted often, and as often reconsidered. Meanwhile Deacon Nathaniel Burt goes up and down the street beating the drum. At first only the ground floor, rude benches, the women seated by themselves on the west side, then two glass windows on the south side ; as the years progress, the gallery floor ; after thir- teen years, the walls lathed and plastered. By and by, two more glass windows on the north side. They pay as they go. Meanwhile the burying-ground, a pound, the school-house, and a bier. At length three pews,-an aristocratic innovation-care- fully located at the lower end in the place of two hind seats, and eyed with jealous circumspection-but once builded, of course, another pew for Mr. Williams's family. Next, green plush for a pulpit cushion, then three pews more voted, and voted down. But at last the pews get the better of the benches. The meet- ing-house in this slow way of getting finished grows old enough to need repairs.
It is 1764, the fifty-first year of the Precinct period. The question is put "whether the precinct will proceed to build a new meeting-house for the public worship of God-passed in the affirmative." A committee raised to get the best information
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about the respective cost of a brick or a wooden meeting-house. It is voted to build a wooden house. But in due time the ques- tion of a brick house is renewed. Some months after, the ques- tions are put to the precinct separately-whether to repair the old house or build a new one; and both passed in the negative. These actions and counter actions proceed till in the lingering course of time " a new timber meeting-house" is voted, and a committee raised to provide hospitable entertainment, both victuals and drink, for the raising, June 17, 1767, one hundred and sixteen years ago.
It is raising day ; a great concourse of people. "I prayed with them," writes Stephen Williams, "in the old meeting-house at eleven of the clock. They went on prosperously ; got up the north side to the roof, and the east end in part." When the workmen stop at night Mr. Williams prays again and gives thanks with the people. This is Wednesday. On Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and the next Monday, the same services at morning and at night. On Tuesday the steeple is raised, and the raising is complete. "At night," Stephen Williams writes, "we went into the old meeting-house, and I prayed and gave thanks with the people, and we sang a psalm,
' Praised be the name of the Lord.' "
It is a Sabbath day, one hundred years ago. The second bell- first peal. From north and south and east the tribes come up- the whole population, afoot, in wagons-the farm wagons without springs. Some are drawn by horses, the rest by oxen. The women and the younger children and old men sit on straight backed chairs or milking stools ; the young men and maidens, and the boys, line the wayside. The bell begins to toll. The congregation throng the meeting-house steps, the porches, and the aisles. It is the day of greetings, the social exchange, the newsday. Dr. Williams at length emerges from the parsonage
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in gown and bands and powdered wig, three-cornered hat, knee breeches, silk or woolen stockings and silver shoe buckles. The bell will not stop tolling till he passes through the massive double door with iron-handled latch and into the high pulpit, with its carved work of grapes and pomegranates under the great sounding board. The deacons are seated in their railed pew, beneath the pulpit.
There is no stove. For fifty-one years the frosty air of the new meeting-house was only mitigated by the women's foot- . stoves and the cracking together of frozen boot-heels. The par- son sometimes preached in heavy homespun cloak and woolen mittens, and at the nooning, grateful indeed was the roaring fire in the great kitchen of the parsonage, at the tavern bar-room, at all the hospitable neighbors' open houses. Comforting were the home-made lunches, the apples roasting on the hearth, the cider, the hot cider, that is to say-the flip. The congregation stand up to pray,-bodily infirmity alone prevents. If one sits down in prayer-time, it is a sudden and emphatic protest against the par- son's praying for the king and royal family. That habit clings to Dr. Williams a little beyond the patriotic sufferance. Not that he is a " tory," or "inimical to the liberties of America," by any settled convictions ; only an old man, to whom the times look dark, and "fears are in the way." In due time he reads from the pulpit, though not without some misgivings, the Declaration of Independence, and gives his benedictions to the soldiers as they march from the church door to the camp of General Wash- ington. For fifty years the congregation sit down to sing; but after the deacon has ceased to line out the psalm, and the pitch- pipe no longer toots, and the singing-master has organized the choir, and the bass viols and flutes conspire with young men and maidens to make a joyful noise, they rise up, and face about to see the choir. Alas! the strife that raged awhile between the
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Psalter and Watts's Hymns ; between the free singing and that by rote-the unheavenly dissonance-" left," as Thomas Walter, the Roxbury pastor says, " to the mercy of every unskilful throat to chop and alter, twist and change, according to their diverse fancies; and, so little attention paid to time, that they were often one or two words apart, producing noises so hideous and disorderly as is bad beyond expression."
The gallery of the new meeting-house runs around the east, south and west walls, square pews line the gallery walls, the negro pew is in the southwest corner, the boys of twelve occupy the next pew, the boys of fourteen the next, those of eighteen the next, it having the extra advantage of a window, and the boys of sixteen the last pew on that side. A similar arrangement for the girls in the eastern gallery; the single men and women of discreet age occupy the pews lining the south gallery wall. The choir seats run all around the gallery front, and the smaller children sit on benches directly behind the choir. In such an arrangement the necessity for tything men is great. Dr. Baxter Dickinson, successor to Mr. Storrs, told me that once, praying under difficulties from singular noises in the gallery, and having lost his nominative case, he was constrained to open his eyes, when lo !- a red-haired boy in the process of being twitched over the pew rail by our now venerable friend, David Booth, but hanging on-as only a red-haired boy can and will-to the balusters with both hands so successfully, that with a fearful crash the whole railing had to come with the boy. The seats of honor are in the broad aisle pews below, nearest the pulpit ; the pews are all free, but the seating committee assign them. They are first instructed "to wait on Dr. Williams and know his pleasure what pew in the meeting-house he chooses for his family to sit in." But after that, no easy task this "dignifying the house." Age is one consideration, property another, standing another.
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Such as Nathaniel Ely, Moses Field, Deacon Aaron Colton, Leftenant Hale, with their wives, may be put into the same pew with mutual satisfaction and the common consent, but such is human nature, sanctified or unsanctified, that as the assortments go on, the utmost wisdom of the wisest fails.
The Precinct period resounds from first to last with the noise of war. The village trainings are no mere holiday parades. Queen Anne's war, which summons to savage fights Captain Thomas Col- ton and his brave comrades, is followed by a few years' rest. In 1744 breaks out the French and Indian war, which calls to bloody fields Captain Moses Field, Lieutenant Nathaniel Burt, and their fellow-soldiers. Stephen Williams goes with them as chaplain.
It is June 25, 1755. The drum and fife announce that Deacon Lieutenant Nathaniel Burt is ready with his company to start for the front. "The soldiers of this place," writes Stephen Williams, " gathered at Deacon Burt's. I went over to the deacon's ; we sang the 12Ist psalm and prayed together, and then they went off to town. Soldiers passing along, one company after another." And soon the reverend chaplain himself follows, to engage in the military service through three campaigns; to Louisburg under Sir William Pepperell, to Crown Point under Sir William John- son, to Lake George under General Winslow ; and repeatedly urged to go again, after failing health had compelled his return from the hardships of the camp. A few days after is the fierce battle at Lake George; Deacon Burt is killed with his Colonel, Ephraim Williams.
The sad message in the handwriting of Chaplain Stephen Wil- liams is read on the Sabbath day to the Longmeadow congrega- tion. Mrs. Sarah Burt, the widow, faints on hearing it and is carried out, but revives, to marry, by and by, her reverend pastor. The local poet of that day, "Clark Stebbins," (Longmeadow has never wanted for poets) in his requiem portrays the scene.
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At length a courier the sad tidings brought, Of a most bloody battle Lately fought Between New England Troops and Gallic foe Which spread the plain with a promiscuous woe, But yet no certain Tydings we could hear Which held us in suspense, Twixt hope and fear, Until a Reverend Letter passed the plain With the sad, mournful news, Brave Burt is Slain. Struck with Surprize, the whole assembly stood Drowned in silence and a Briny flood.
His Consort Dear Just heard the awful sound, And sighed, and groaned, and sunk unto the ground." .
A few years of outward peace ; but, gathering clouds and lightning flashes of murky discontent. The Revolution is at hand. April 20, 1775. "This morning, as soon as it was light, the drum beat and three alarm guns. The story is that some of the British troops have marched from Boston to seize military stores at Lexington or Concord. But accounts vague, uncertain. Our minute-men are gone to town." April 21, "This morning at four o'clock another message. A smart engagement at Concord between the regulars and our people; many killed; 'Tis said houses burnt, women and children killed ; more men are going forth. I prayed with a company." David Burt was Captain, John Hale, Lieutenant; Sergeants, Ebenezer Colton, Samuel Keep; Corporals, Nathaniel Ely, Josiah Cooley, and for privates more Burts, Blisses, Coltons, Stebbinses, David White, John Ack- ley, and the rest - on the quick step - off " to assist our breth- ren at Lexington," and as their colors disappear, " we met," says Stephen Williams, "in the meeting-house for prayers."
And now, turmoils, heats, suspicions, alarms by night and day, the times that try men's souls. No quiet like ours to-day. They were paying its great price for us.
It is midnight, July 24, 1776. A company of men, headed by Nathaniel Ely, Festus Colton, and Azariah Woolworth, with 6
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faces blacked and variously disguised, attack the house of Mer- chant Samuel Colton ; seize his rum, salt, and molasses ; carry them away, and appoint Jabez Colton-the village "man of affairs," Yale graduate, classical teacher, familiarly known as " Master Jabe,"-guardian and salesman. Merchant Colton's wife peeping through the shutters has keenly scrutinized the mob and their disguise does not avail. So broken in spirit was Merchant Colton by this outrage of his neighbors that he never after spoke aloud. At the close of the war they were sued, and judgment was rendered against them in favor of one Church, who proved his ownership of a part of the abstracted goods. Apprehending further suits, they petition the General Court for an act of indemnity, and are met by a counter petition. Both papers display shrewd ability. The patriotic robbers plead the absence of statute law that succeeded for a time the declaration of independence,-the necessity that knows no law. Merchant Colton pleaded the natural equity of private rights which is the fundamental source of law - that without law, liberty is license, and independence but a sorry farce. The act of indemnity was passed.
One of the last lessons of valuable experience the precinct learned was that of "fiat money." In 1780 Dr. Williams was voted a salary of $22,500 in Continental currency; corn rated at $38 per bushel, rye $50, wheat $84. "What will you take for those fine oxen?" said a speculator, with his pockets full of Con- tinental money, to a Longmeadow farmer plowing in his field. "Don't you want," was the significant reply, "to sell that fine horse of yours, and take your pay in yellow butterflies after har- vest - and catch 'em yourself?" Among the last votes of the precinct is a grant of £30, good money, to the family of Rev. Dr. Williams, deceased, and the first thought of the newly-
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incorporated town is to raise a monumental table over his honored grave.
His ministry of sixty-six years, rounds out the precinct period. The last time he appears abroad, his loving and beloved deacons tenderly carry him in his arm-chair across the green, and help his tottering steps into the deacon's seat - for he cannot mount the pulpit stairs. They hear, with tearful eyes, his last address, bring to him three little ones for his parting blessing in the rite of holy baptism, and then carry him back to the home he builded in his youthful vigor-in a few days more to die in the ninetieth year of his age. At the funeral, a great assembly-and the sermon by his devoted friend, Robert Breck, a very tender and eloquent tribute which may still be found in print, to the worthiest name that our history enshrines.1 He was firm, gentle, prudent, patient, earnest ; of genuine humility and devoted piety; widely known and as thoroughly respected; his counsel sought far beyond his parish bounds; his influence and usefulness increasing to the very verge of his life.
He is so thoroughly sincere; everybody trusts him; a peace- maker, full of magnanimous sensibilities. "This day Lieutenant Cooley and Captain Burt came here. They had been here many times before, and after a great deal of discourse, they were brought to join hands and say that they desired heartily to forgive one another. I drew up something which they signed." And so a bitter and disastrous feud was healed. The next Sabbath the
1 In his address to his fellow clergymen at the funeral Mr. Breck says: "My brethren, it has pleased God to remove from us our father who has been for many years at our head. I trust that we, his sons in the ministry, who in a body made him a visit when he was declining fast, will never forget with how much affection he committed us and our flocks to God; the advices he gave us; the fatherly blessing he bestowed upon us; and the tenderness with which he took his last leave of us. I could not help thinking that I had before my eyes the old prophet wrapped in his mantle, just stepping into his chariot, ready upon the wings of the wind to take his flight into heaven. My brethren, it is worth while to live as our father Williams did, if it was only to die as he did."
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agreement is read before the congregation, and the good pastor joins to it an earnest and loving exhortation.
He is a plain reprover. "This day I again discoursed with and very severely reproved my neighbor, John Colton, for his drink- ing. I told him I desired to deliver my own soul, and if he should perish, his blood would be upon his own head."
He is a social, cheery, hospitable man. The parsonage abounds with guests; hosts of relatives, among them Rector Williams of Yale, and Col. Ephraim, founder of Williams Col- lege. And there is President Wheelock of Dartmouth, Presi- dent Holyoke of Harvard, and the army officers, his fellow-sol- diers in three campaigns, and Judges Salstonstall and Sewall, and the other judges, whom he always "waits upon " when they come to town on their respective circuits; and such divines as Dr. Cooper, Dr. Coleman, and Jonathan Edwards. The constant influx of these guests, the sermons of the best preachers in the pulpit, bring into the village a culture which leavens the coming days.
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