USA > Massachusetts > Middlesex County > Westford > Town of Westford annual report 1896-1901 > Part 7
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The first question I wanted to ask my old friend was, Aren't you sorry you didn't do this ten years ago ? And the second ques- tion is, Aren't you glad you did it, yourself, while you could go to the dedication ? I wish I were a "reputed millionaire," and could give a library to somebody. I can't conceive of a greater personal pleasure than for a man to go around the town where he was born, and have the people come out like this and pay him the tribute that you have paid to Mr. Fletcher, especially when I know that Mr. Fletcher must feel that that tribute is deserved. Nothing makes a man feel so cheap as to have a compliment paid him that he don't deserve.
Didn't you see me blush when the Chairman introduced me? But here is a benefactor of this town. It pays Mr. Fletcher to "benefact." Here is a library, and I am not saying this to fit this particular occasion-I have been at various library dedications, and I thought the libraries that I had seen were the exact thing they ought to be, and probably were for those places ; but I have
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seen no such library as this. I sat next to Nourse as the Chair- man of the Library Committee gave his report, and when he gave the sum total that had been expended, Nourse says, "It couldn't have been built for that !" So there is a reflected glory upon Cap- tain Fletcher and his associates of the Building Committee ; and when my old friend comes up here, and goes down to his farm to enjoy the summer evenings, and enjoy the town - and there isn't a pleasanter town on the footstool than this-he can feel, all through, the familiar words, " Si quaeris monumentum, circum- spice "- excuse the French. "If you want to see Fletcher's monument, look about you." That is a free translation. There is probably nobody in this audience except Bro. Horton and Bro. Frost that knew what I meant, when I gave the original.
I came here to see Westford. I have been at Westford before, and I knew something about the town. I remember years ago the prominent men here who managed the town. The "Two Fletchers" was one; J. W. P. Abbot was another ; J. Henry Read was another ; Sherman Fletcher's father was another. Why, how the boys do grow up! I suppose you had about the same sort of times in town management they have everywhere - never exactly unanimous ; somebody to kick, every time. There is no- body to kick anybody on this occasion! You are a "happy family !" Not the happy family the gentleman in Berlin saw. Living in a cage on the street were a lion, a tiger, a wolf and a sheep, with "Happy Family" over the cage. The owner came out, and the gentleman asked how long they had been together. "Why," he said, "they have been together about nine months, all except the sheep; he has to be renewed once in a while." There is no such trouble as that in Westford. Some- times somebody gets shoved out, perhaps, but there are no fatalities. I asked my Brother Horton - he brags about Westford as though he were born here - I asked him how long since he began to come here, and he said he first came here when the Unitarian minister was " Young."
Here is this beautiful town upon a hill, almost exactly at the same level as the town where I was born, which is also on a hill; you can see that town across the valley here, if your eyes are good. We haven't any " reputed millionaires " in the town ; there- fore, it will be long, I fear, before we get a public library.
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What is the public library good for? We have been told, ever since we were born, that the thing that differentiates man from other animals is the power of speech. It isn't so at all ; animals can think and animals can talk. Professor Garner has found out that wild beasts talk : and claims to know what they say. A horse talks and laughs; birds talk ; so that speech doesn't differentiate man from other animals. What does? The ability to put speech on record,- books. Suppose you had no books; assume for the moment that every book in the world was blotted out, where would we.be? Edison will die by and by, and Tesla, and all the other electricians ; after they are gone, what could you know that they discovered about electricity, except what is recorded in books? Assume that there were only fifty living people on the footstool, and the books were all gone, it would take thousands of years for those people and their descendants to grow up to where we are ; and they would only do it, because just as fast as they made an inch of progress, they would put it in print.
And we properly put books into beautiful castles like the one on the left. The public library represents to me the combined, crystallized wisdom of the world. Remove it, and wisdom goes with it. Tradition never could keep up with human progress. Everything except the mere skeleton and the fables was lost and forgotten, as long as they relied upon tradition, but when we had the printing press and the types everything that was valuable was preserved, and put into shape where it could be found. We have been told that away back in 1797 this Westford library began ; but it began earlier than that, for there in that beautiful building, such a beautiful monument to the town and the donor, exists the story of what has been done since human progress began,-thanks to J. V. Fletcher and those who have carried out his wishes.
Mr. Chairman :- Admirable as Mr. Marden's speech was,- a speech that fully justified everything that I said about his wit and sprightliness,-it was still incomplete, because he did not tell us whence he derived his intimate knowledge of the proper times for giving buildings to the public, and of the delightful emotions aroused in the giver by public gratitude. Let me supply the omis- sion. Mr. Marden knows all about these matters from personal experience. He is a public benefactor himself, he has lately given a church to his native town.
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It is a part, and I suppose a most disagreeable part, of the duty of a Superintendent of Schools to call down schoolmasters ; how tenderly and considerately it can be done by the gentleman who will speak next, I, from fifteen years' experience, can testify. It now becomes the duty of a schoolmaster to call up a Superin- tendent of Schools. But his educational activities have been con- fined to the town of Westford. Elsewhere in the State, and else- where in the United States, he is known as the beloved pastor emeritus of all the Unitarian Churches in North America and the Sandwich Islands. The Rev. Edward A. Horton will now con- tribute, as he only can, to the amenities of the occasion.
REV. EDWARD A. HORTON.
Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen :- I think one of the hugest jokes that has been perpetrated this afternoon was by my Brother Marden, when he asked you if you didn't see him blush ! I never saw him blush in my life ! Yet how much we like to see that strong face of his, and to hear him speak !
He was announced a while ago at Carlisle's library dedication as the Rev. George A. Marden. He has been building a church. Well, it will help him by and by. He has always been inclined toward preaching and things theological. You know he is the Honorable ex-Treasurer of the Commonwealth and supposed to know a great deal about money matters ; and yet, there was a time in his life when he thought so much about religion and church that this incident occurred. He somehow made fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars, and he carried it around in his stocking or hoarded it in the house ; he didn't know what to do with it. Then he heard that a certain kind of bonds were being put upon the market by a banker in Boston. He went down to that banker in Boston and told him that he had this two thousand dollars, and in- quired whether those bonds were all right, and would it be safe to take them? "Said the banker, "I tell you, Mr. Marden, I have put all my spare cash into them, and you had better do it." Mr. Mar- den said he guessed he would; and then the banker inquired, "What denomination would you like to have them in?" Mr. Marden scratched his head - he was so pious in those days that he only took that word "denomination" in one way, and finally he said ; "Well, you may give me three hundred for the old lady, she is a Methodist, and you might give me that in Methodist denom- ination ; but as to the heft, give it to me in Congregationalist."
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You see he knows a great deal more now ; I don't say that he is any better. but he knows lots more. Some people, when they know lots more, are not as good as they used to be when they didn't know as much.
As I looked at this tent with the old part off there, and here where the band is, the new part, it reminded me of a little incident. quite historical. It was in Westford, I think, that somebody was teaching a class of boys and girls matters of natural history ; the teacher was trying to show to these pupils how lobsters conduct themselves when they are changing their shells. The teacher said, "Now, the lobster does so and so, and so, and throws off his shell and gets another." They didn't quite understand it, so the teacher added, "Now, Mary, don't you see how it is? What do you do with your old clothes as you grow up ; you throw them off, don't you?" "No, teacher, we let out the tucks." Now, not only this tent has let out the tucks, but Westford in a taking and capacious and hospitable way takes us all in on this elevating and interesting occasion : which reminds me of one more story, and then I will refer to something else. I have been going and coming in West- ford these many years, and I never came but what I went away sorrowfully. I never yet found a man or woman here that was not large-hearted and kind and good, and some of the dearest memories of my life, some associations which I believe will sur- vive the transition we call death, and live along with me, have been created here. A minister out West, I am not going to tell you to what denomination he belonged, had had a rough time. Ministers do have rough times occasionally. He hadn't been paid very promptly ; he hadn't been treated very well. He came to his farewell sermon, and he was going to leave. When ministers get mad, or what you call mad in other people, they term it "righteous indignation." That minister wasn't mad, but he was slightly aroused. He pictured, when he got through the main part of his sermon, how it would be in the judgment day. There would come Augustine with his flock of sheep, and he would say, "See, here are my sheep ;" and the whole angelic choir would sing and play, and how proud Augustine would be. Then there would be others ; up would come John Calvin, and he would present his flock of sheep, and he would be praised. After a while, brothers and sisters, it would come my turn (and this dear brother, who didn't talk the language of Harvard college, fell off into the vernacular), "What
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do you suppose I would have to say, brothers and sisters? I would have to say, O Lord, I hain't got no sheep ; they were all hogs."
Now, there isn't a possibility of such a scene ever being applicable to any flock of people here, or any household here in Westford ; I tell the story by way of contrast.
Now, we are here today because a certain boy was born in this town, and studied over in Groton, drinking at another educa- tional fount when, perhaps, he should have tarried here at this Westford Academy ; a boy who had to look after the cows, the growing beans and peas, and the farm's manifold duties. That New England boy grew, nurturing and training his sinews in this town, preparing himself to win an honorable place in the battle of life. He paid the price of that happiness, as a boy, the price of that gratitude and appreciation that is now given to the man. So he matured into the strength of character that we find today in our friend, J. V. Fletcher.
It seems to be the law of life, that if anybody is to win honor in this world, there must come pressure, a spur, that roar of battle cry in one's life, nerving the scattered forces in the soul until they become will, energy and action ; until they know where to plant their feet in the struggle. I honor Mr. Fletcher, not only because he has opened this golden portal to ambitious youth and struggling boys and girls, but I honor him because he has not forgotten the first round upon which he put his feet, and from which he climbed the ladder of success. That is the guaranty, the hope of our institutions in this country :- success remembering the day of small things.
Those who wrote the charters and early declarations of what we might be, put their faith in the possibility of man's ever rising and remembering the rootage from whence he came. We hear a good-deal about socialism and communism, and in much of that I have sympathy ; but I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, and I ask you to take notice, that if you want a republic, a democracy of true equality and fulfillment, you must have every unit raised to its tenth and hundredth power; every citizen in his lot fulfilling his part, and contributing to the whole, that which he has deservedly won in the contest of life, whether of property, or money, or position. Whatsoever can be honorably achieved by an individual, let that course be run freely, fully, and then the results poured into a grand enrichment of the community. That is Mr. Fletcher's
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record. He has prospered ; and now we are the gainers by his free. victorious career.
The Puritan homes are in the background ; and the Puritan spirit made it possible to have such a scene as this today. Our forefathers said, "Let us have the town house." The town meet- ing is rooted in the faith that men and women of average capacity (and women more and more, I trust, along with the men) can come together to discuss matters of public welfare; wrangle sometimes, split hairs sometimes, make foolish motions sometimes, waste hours in useless debate sometimes; but the fruits are valuable ; the results have made New England character ; we must hold on to the town meeting. It is the place where the rich man, the scholar, and the tiller of the soil can come together and have things out on their merits. It is the grand arena for men who wish to see, not a class or part of a community advance, but the whole army marching elbow to elbow in human progress.
Again the Puritans said, "Let the school-house rise." Our ancestors believed that there is not a ray of new truth which need affright us. Education is our safeguard ; free schools, our great enlighteners.
Once more, our forefathers said, "Let the church sound its bell, to call men to the noblest service in the world. The meeting- house is the soul's home." There was heard the prayer and psalm, and the benediction of Heaven came down upon the worshippers.
Now, in these times, we hear a fourth command, "Let the public library arise." The public library will be a mighty force in coming civilization along with the town house, the school-house. and the church. It has a vital part to play in the unfolding drama of American thought and action.
The public library not only corrects dangerous tendencies. but it is a positive upbuilder. Indirectly and directly there is a con- stant influence from its alcoves toward true standards and noble ideals. It gathers ingenuous youth into the companionship of the great souls of the past ; it places before the ambitious, rising gen- eration public men of character ; it brings to bear upon the life plans of the young people the best thought and the most wholesome ideas. A person may be compelled to live in limited conditions. but with good books as his friends he is the possessor of a vast kingdom. Literature of this kind fills the imagination, instills self respect, and plants manly motives. It was the loaned book that
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incited Abraham Lincoln to his great career; it was the resource of the library that quickened the aspirations of Daniel Webster. More and more this great fountain will be drawn upon. I mean by all this that a well-selected, free public library becomes a vast supply of moral and ethical force in the community where it exists. Besides this helpfulness, a collection of literature such as we now anticipate in this place, will always be the cheer for many a fireside and the guide to citizens in their political duties. What we need most of all in this country is thought given to our public affairs. A library of this kind carries the discussion of great ques- tions up to a high plane. The masters in thought speak to us and the great lights in political economy shine for our benefit. The gift of a home today, for such a library, means one great added support to the higher welfare of every one coming within its benefits.
There are other things which I would like to say, but I leave them for the honorable speakers who are to follow. Remember that library, church, town-house, aud school-house ; your homes, farms and whirring wheels of industry, all these and other re- sources are beneath one great symbol which I must mention here. You and I rededicate ourselves, as we dedicate this library today, to the United States of America, and to the stars and stripes, the symbol of this free land ; and I want you to remember that in doing that, we must have an intelligent understanding of what we are about. The library means knowledge and broad views. Take those three colors,-I ask the young people to ponder,-what do they mean ? The red is the mark of the martyr's blood, shed down the past years for the cause of truth and humanity; the white is the emblem of the unbroken rays of justice, impartial always, and serving for the protection of all lots and conditions of men ; the blue signifies the sky in heaven, the pure, fetterless ether, where freedom reigns. The red, white and blue; symbols of sacrifice, justice, liberty. Oh, long may this flag wave over yon library, bidding us thrill with joy that we are parts of this grand country, and eager to sustain our loyal part in the brotherhood of nations.
The Chairman :- We did not expect anything would be said here that would transgress the severity and the proprieties of the occasion ; but for a speaker at a gathering of this kind to sit near
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me and Mr. Marden at the dinner table, and then early in his speech to introduce a story about hogs-I don't know just what uncomplimentary inference may be drawn from this. I presume it is all right ; if not, we can talk it out in private later. But what a delightful contribution Mr. Horton has made to the enjoyment of this occasion !
I am sure you will all regret that the next speaker announced on the programme, the Hon. George S. Boutwell, of Groton, the veritable Nestor of Massachusetts statesmen, is unable, on account of a severe cold, to be present here today.
Perhaps at this time we are aware more than ever before that the forces at work for the enlightenment of the world are very many. Certainly, the poet, as well as the statesman and the orator, has great and deserved influence in shaping the loftiest ideals of our civilization. I am very happy to introduce Miss Josephine E. Rand, who will read a poem which she has written for this dedication.
I had a dream-a dream I fain would tell, Of a far country where all good doth dwell. Its name I know not: if to you it seem Strange I enquired not,-it was but a dream. A white-robed one walked with me in the way : 'Twas noon, it seemed, as glorious was the day;
And yet no sun beamed from its heav'nly place ;
There glowed a sun in ev'ry human face.
I wondered much, for e'en the very air
Suggested music, soft as murmured pray'r;
And in the speech of all I understood I caught the spirit of the great and good. How glad the faces of both child and man!
Each seemed a perfect part of God's great plan.
So filled the place with light and peace pro- found
It was as if I trod on hallowed ground.
I turned to question him, my white-robed guide,
Who gazed in silence, standing by my side: "Why does this land a very heaven seem ?- Is it reality, or do I dream?"
Ere he could speak there burst upon my ear The sound of music wonderful to hear;
Such strains exultant and with glory filled, My inmost soul was rapturously thrilled.
Where, save in heaven, could such songs arıse
To stir the echoes to the farthest skies?
Yet 'twas not heav'n; below me in the street Sounded the treading of unnumbered feet ; Women and men in holiday array
Thronged to and fro, rejoicing, in the way; And over all the wondrous music pealed, A mystery divine-all unrevealed.
And then he spoke, my guide, the white-robed one,
Whose face was radiant as the rising sun :-
"Thou wond'rest, child of earth, how this may be.
Listen, the secret I will give to thee. This is a land where men as brothers dwell; Who worship God with voice and heart as well;
Who see in ev'ry sted and flower and tree An earnest of the glorious life to be. Here God is King, not gold of earthly fame; Here liberty is more than but a name; For none is truly free who doth not stand A son of God, acknowledging The Hand
Which, by its wondrous pow'r, hath bade him live
And testimony to this pow'r to give.
Thou heardest music, and thy heart was moved:
This is true music; dost thou feel reproved? None may reveal the soul of this great art Save him who leans upon the Father's heart. Here song is the expression of true love, Of adoration for the God above;
So doth great harmonies entrance the ear; He that hath ears to listen, let him hear !"
The speaker paused; I had no word to say ; Once more in silence we pursued our way.
And soon we came where stood a building grand,
Thronged by the multitude on ev'ry hand. "A dedication," said my shining guide;
"Come, let us join the gathered host inside." With wings for feet we cleft the surging mass Who neither heard nor saw us swiftly pass. Beyond the portals, arched, and grandly high, A scene imposing met my eager eye. With faces heav'nward stood a mighty host Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost; And then there trembled in the throbbing air The fervor of a universal pray'r:
"To Thee we dedicate this temple, Lord, In heartfelt rev'rence for Thy written word, Rememb'ring that each good and perfect thing Is of Thy bounty giv'n; and so we sing
Thanks be to God from whom all blessings flow,
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For all we have comes from Thy hand, we know, Grant that this temple, though of dying frame, Send forth an influence lasting as 'Thy name, Undying pow'r for good, word that shall live, Unto the darkened mind true light to give ! So shall this work of ours be, in Thy sight, Approved, acceptable, a thing of might, And, for Thy blessing, stand a witness true To what Thou, through Thy loving sons, canst do.""
"Amen !" I heard, in accents reverent, low.
"Amen !" I breathed; and then I turned to go. For I bethought me suddenly of earth,
A dedication there, full something worth. Had I forgotten, that I strayed away? Still was there time; was't not that very day? .
"And wouldst thou leave this land?" my guide exclaimed :
"Thou hast seen little of its glories famed.
Has earth such charms as you may here be- hold?
Believe me, not the half has yet been told."
"Yet must I go, dear guide," I made reply. He looked on me with earnest, glowing eye; "Go then," he said; "a message take to earth; Mere worldly honors, fame, are nothing worth. Only the riches of the soul abide ; Who, lacking these, hath nothing else beside. Dost thou return unto thy place again To sing the praises of thy fellow-men? See that thou do it not; but help them sing Thanks to the Giver of all gifts, their King. Wisdom and knowledge are of God alone;
There is no light which comes not from His throne ;
All truth is His, and wealth man but receives In trust. Blest is the man who thus believes. Let him who giveth gifts to help his race Be loved of them for honoring his place. So let love dwell within your hearts today And teach you how to live the noblest way. God's is the kingdom, His the pow'r and might,
Glory, dominion, and all praise, by right. Let all earth's people love Him and obey,
And show'rs of blessing shall be theirs that day.
Go tell thy fellow-men to use their wings :- An angel witnesseth unto these things." With joy unspeakable my heart was stirred, It throbbed and fluttered like a mother-bird Brooding her young ones in her tree-top nest, Gath'ring them closely to her yearning breast ; I scarce could wait to reach my brother-men, So longed my soul to tell to them again The message of the angel of my dream, Who vanished now save in a wondrous gleam Which lighted all the way of my return And made my heart with high resolve to burn. Ah! 'twas but a dream !- but dreams may play their part
In moulding life and through quickened heart. I woke, but still the vision filled my soul , Of all my guide had said I knew the whoe , And still the message lingered in my ear ;- One I must give -- not keep-that all might hear.
God grant the seed may fall in fertile ground; In His good time abundant truit be found !
The Chairman :- There is not a grander name in the Revolu- tionary history of Connecticut than that of Roger Sherman ; and defective indeed would be the history of Massachusetts which made no mention of the character, the abilities and the eminent public services of Samuel Hoar and his illustrious sons. The genius of these great men has been transmitted to their descendants. I have the great pleasure of introducing one of them, the Hon. Sherman Hoar.
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