USA > Massachusetts > Barnstable County > Sandwich > Two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration of Sandwich and Bourne, at Sandwich, Massachusetts, September 3, 1889 > Part 7
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in coming ages this land should pass again into the vast sor- row of cruel war, may the men, then behind the guns, have as stout hearts and as keen eyesight to level them, as had the ancient seamen of Cape Cod, who in all our wars, on a ship's deck, maintained the honor of the flag and often brought it into port laurelled with victory.
The valuation, which the Puritan put on man, forced him to try and enlarge man in all the elements of his complex nature. This, he endeavored to do, mainly through his Church and his public school, that conscience might be quick- ened and its domain broadened by sound learning. There has always been a scholastic air about this town, and educa- tion has been both given and prized in your homes. For this fact, you have been largely indebted to the Pilgrim clergy here, and to none more so than to the Rev. Jonathan Burr, who became your pastor in 1787. I fancy, that it was due largely to him that the Sandwich Academy* was founded in 1804. I shall only venture one or two remarks about our public schools. First, they are an integral part of what I may call American civilization, and in the line of the Puri- tan political logic. That logic holds that no man, who is the slave of his ignorance, can ever be a freeman, either in soul or body, and that an ignorant citizen is always a dubious pa- triot. The public schools came in early and in any event would go out very late. I am one of those, who think that they have come to stay.
Thus closes this review of the town life of old Sand-
* I am sure that " The Old Academy " building in which so many of us were taught, should be carefully described by some one for a permanent record. Till a better is shown, let this be said. The building, say in 1840, was a little dingy, with at least a hint about it, of decadence both inside and out. It was a rather narrow, long building, facing as the dwelling house on its site does now. Its front door looked down School street and over it was a small belfry with a still smaller bell which when it went tolling, five minutes before nine o'clock, often seemed like the knell of doom to the laggard boy after bird nests or a summer sweeting, across the fields. On the left as you entered the main room through a short entry there was a sort of elevated box or apart- ment some ten feet wide reaching the south wall, separate from the desks below by a wooden partition 4 to 5ft. high, painted, I remember, grey - as I have always supposed, the monitors' seat in the old days. On the right was a raised platform to which two or three long steps led, on which the master sat. The main aisle was rather broad running through the middle of the room, and on each side of it two rows of seats, then another aisle each side with desks for one pupil in each built against the wall. The middle desks, each side, I think held two pupils apiece. The desks were not on a level but rose from the door towards the west, so that at the farther end one had to climb into the back seats from the main aisle below. The side aisle on the south side was reached by a short aisle that ran parallel with the front of the monitors' desk or dais. The room must have been a large one because I remember that a boy in the south-west corner could talk all the morn- ing with his neighbors and not disturb the master. In that corner also, apples were easy to eat without offence to the school authorities with I suppose average eyesight. The desks were the common boxes then in use painted a reddish brown with the lids not movable. At the end of the
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wich. Let it pass for what it is worth, provided always that you retain the sense that in your history, there are many things worthy the meditation of the wise. The lesson of your town history can be but one. It is the duty devolved upon you by your ancestors, to maintain the ideas for which they endured their sacrifices. From this duty, none of their descendants can absolve themselves, except it be by repudi- ating them and their endeavor. The old French saying, no- blesse oblige, which, in free translation, would read " Nobi- lity of birth compels to nobility of life," describes well enough our obligation. The keenest swords are always sharp- ened on the grindstone of some gospel of better things for man, and here that gospel has always been; and that life, which is inspired to climb ever higher, towards truth and right, must be a life that watches, that works, that suffers for man ; and here that life has been from of old. Let the Indian root-diggers of the prairies, live content with their dish of bitter herbs, and die as stolidly as the buffalo of the plains. Let the South Sea islander feed himself with the breadfruit over his head, at his hut's door, and sleep through life, as unreflecting and as careless as his summer sea. The sceptre of the world is not with him, nor is its future liable to his brain or hand. But this Puritan land, this Pilgrim stock of ours, yes, the men of every race, who by their own assent, have cast in their lot with us, are compromised and sealed to be compatriots and fellow workmen in build- ing up the great temple of the rights of man, and leading men up upon the hills, above the reek and miasma of base
main aisle, west, there was a door low down among the elevated seast, which opened into the room for girls. This room was the same in width but much shorter than the other. Both rooms were painted either in browns or greys. Behind this room in the northwest corner was the library room, in my day, littered with ancient looking books or fragments, some, with edges stained red and in parchment covers, very awe-inspiring to a young student fresh come to this world, and seeing for the first time, books really old. There was an abundance of windows in the building, and on the east and south sides at least, a row of Lombardy poplars. The whole look, as I recall it, was dignified, Pilgrim, austere and as of a house which had known better days. No master even deigned to tell us about its history and of what those ragged books meant in the dusty library full of window light and cobwebs. This Academy fell into decadence because of the miserable wrangles which whatever they might have been otherwise were a very sober genesis of old Puri- tanism into something else. But it was an enterprse nobly planned and deserved success. All lovers of sound learning will respect the zeal and good intent of the men who planned it.
The Rev. Mr. Burr, who had private pupils in his own family before the Academy was set up, was the first rector or master. There were pupils from the Cape, the South, and the West Indies. The history of this Academy which perhaps no one will ever write and which is more difficult as each generation passes, was not without its romance, in the after lives of its graduates scattered far and wide. I am told that the initials W. W. are still to be seen carved on one of the window sills of Mr. Burr's old house. If so, they stand for William Wainwright, once a pupil here, after, a distinguished bishop of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New York.
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and servile things, to behold those stars of God, which give light for man to come to his great estate. Our forefathers compromised us to a great civic toil, lasting into unknown ages. Let the empire give its subjects rest, and an ampi- theatre for amusement of the thoughtless ; the republic sum- mons every citizen to a life long vigil ; to a struggle, which can never cease; to see that man is not abased and to strive that he may be lifted up with privilege, and enlarged into the joy of those, whose life is fulfilled with virtue. The old way of the world's progress is the only way. The race stands only at the portals of its achievement. The temple beyond these gates is grander than our century's thought can grasp. A thousand millions to inhabit this land, perhaps, in a thous- and years, and this multitude to be guided, fed somehow with its bread of life. The old way is the best way ; the martyrs and heroes beyond us in time, are more than those behind us. The future has grander altars of service, than even the past. Our soldiers and our seamen, who died in all our wars, for the flag, sleep deep, having won that eter nal fame, whose legend must ever be the banner of the free. But the enemies of the republic lurk at the doors of your money changers ; in the wanton's chamber; in the ignorance and pauperism, which must forever live close by the gates of crime ; in the lust of political power : in the greed of gold ; in the liar's fable; and in whatsoever enterprise men are tempted to barter manhood for an advantage, either false or base. Against these enemies of the republic, only virtue watches with unshut eye, and the Old Guard of its unwast- ing defence is forever the citizenship of the good. A repub- lic is to be saved every day and is safe no day. But vir- tues are the heart's throbs of those who know; and of those who love. If, at the end of a thousands years of your town life, Sandwich be one of the most ancient cradles of a then mighty and happy people, it will be because this nation has gone its way, leaning on its staff of equal rights for all men in a wise liberty for soul and body, and has not forgot to follow in all its generations, the Anglo Saxon, yes, the Pilgrim doctrine, that the health and happiness of man, in his just privilege, is both the thought and the will of God.
AT THE TENT.
The mammoth tent, where dinner was served immedi- ately following the oration, was pitched in Mr. Samuel Fes- senden's field, in the rear of the Casino. The tent was 260 feet long, and 80 feet wide, containing 14 tables with a seating capacity of 2000, and every seat was occupied. The dinner consisted of a genuine Rhode Island clambake, with all the modern fixings generally found on such occasions, and was prepared by Andrew E. Hathaway, of New Bedford.
The exercises at the tent continued, in the presence of over 2000 people, with the rendering of Mozart's Gloria from the Twelfth Mass, by a chorus of fifty picked singers from Bourne and Sandwich, accompanied by Hill's Band, of New Bedford, all under the efficient leadership of Mr. H. H. Heald, of Sandwich. The selection was splendidly given, and re- ceived a tremendous ovation.
The speakers' platform was erected in the centre of the tent, at the side, on which were seated the president of the day, speakers, invited guests and other dignitaries.
After the dinner had been given justice, there was a se- lection by the band, followed by the introduction by Hon. Charles Dillingham, of Sandwich, of Mr. Frank H. Pope, of Leominster, a native of Sandwich, as toastmaster of the occasion.
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OPENING ADDRESS OF FRANK H. POPE.
Your literary committee has instructed me to dress this part of the occasion in as sombre a garb as possible, and to see that no undue levity shall creep in, to mar the pleasure of the literary feast that is to follow. Just here allow me to in- terrupt myself for a moment, and call your attention to the fact that this is a large assemblage, and in order that the dis- tinguished speakers may be heard, it will be necessary that this vast audience keep as quiet as possible. There is a brass band playing on my right, and evidently is a competitor of mine, for your attention, but I do not fear it, having faith in my power of endurance and vocal strength, I think I can talk it down without special effort. One reason why I ask for as little commotion as possible, is, that among the speak- ers whose names I have on the list, are several who have evinced consumptive tendencies, not that there has been a consumption of their physical functions, or their mental fac- ulties; but their enormous consumption of victuals has so swelled their adipose tissue, and set the blood in so great a state of activity that any special effort upon their part, to be heard, might result in apoplexy, therefore, I trust that you will keep as quiet as possible, and not become accessories to such a possible contingency.
The other day I was looking over that much-read, greatly- admired, but badly-disconnected novel, by the late Mr. Noah Webster, and I came across the word " toastmaster." I there discovered that a toastmaster is a person, who, at public din- ners, announces the toasts and leads or directs the cheering, so if I should think, in the course of what I may have to say, that I had given expression to a perfect gem of intellectual effort, or made a very happy point, and should suddenly start off in a paroxysm of cheering, do not think me egotistical, do not think I have too great an admiration for your labors, do not think that I am trying to lead you astray, I shall simply be exercising the prerogatives of my position.
As I came back to the old town last night, which I have not visited for several years, and to which my visits have been few, since I went forth to do missionary work, revolu- tionize the ways of the world and elevate them to my ideal,
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I was forcibly struck with two thoughts. One, that upon general principles the old town hadn't changed much since I left it, for its welfare ; and the other, that such changes as I could note, showed a marked tendency and a penchant upon the part of the rising generation for æstheticism. The first blow I received was in coming through that village to the north of us, which in my boyhood days I do not remember to have ever heard called by any other name than " Herring River," was now euphoneously cognomened " Bournedale ; and I found what I used to know as plain, ordinary, every- day "Scussett," was now putting on all the airs of the young girl who will make her debut in society, at the grand ball in the Casino, tonight, and is now sailing under the elevated title of " Sagamore." Then I came down a little farther and saw in reality, in part, that which my parents used to talk about at the family fireside, long before active steps had been taken towards the construction of the Cape Cod Ship Canal. Next, I came to what I used to call " Town Neck," where, as a barefooted boy, I drove the cows back and forth each day, for a small, weakly stipend per week. And I wondered if the fever of aestheticism had set in there ; that the old, famil- iar spot had been robbed of its homely, but companionable title, and that I should hear it referred to as a fertile grazing field for domesticated bovines. Later, as I gazed upon the old mill pond, upon whose placid bosom I had sailed, rowed and fished, even here the spirit of euphony was getting in its work, and I heard it alluded to as the "lake ; " but to me it is the old mill pond still. Then I began to inquire if any of the places which I knew familiarly in my youth, still held to their old titles, and I gladly learned that "Snake " and " Hog " ponds were clothed in all the pristine glory of their original names.
This morning I stood beside the remnants of the old willow tree, which stood directly in front of my former home on Water street, and while beside its decayed stump, which had for so many years withstood the ravages of the elements, I sadly, tearfully reflected, how, when a lad, I had played among its branches, usually one branch at a time, and that branch usually got to the woodshed before I did, customarily accompanied by the parent on my father's side, and when we
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three in convention assembled, it was considerable of an ac- tive time we knew, I can assure you. At such times I sowed the seeds for such "hustling " proclivities as I may enjoy at the present time. I looked around the old shed and high up, lodged in a crack, was an object that excited my curiosity. I investigated, only to find that it was one of the piercing shrieks I had emitted at one of our woodshed services. Right here I wish to say to those having children, do not oblige them to dance at the bend and rod of a willow branch. Here is a standing illustration of the fact that it does no good whatever.
I took a stroll down the street, the first person that I saw was my old time sable friend, who has been known to man, ever since the town was incorporated, apparently, and I thought if the time should ever come when I should wish to paraphrase that beautiful poem of Tennyson's, entitled, " The Brook," that the revision would be :
" For men may come and men may go, But Hezekiah seems likely to go on forever."
Next I came to the Unitarian church and up in the bel- fry I noticed the ancient bell, whose clanging had been music to my soul in the years, now some ways down the cor- ridor of time, and from its great iron throat came floating down through the azure a mellow sound, that as it fell upon my ear, became articulate, and faintly spoken were the words: "Where's Chas.P., ? I'm lonesome," and then I re- called the old sexton, who for half a century had been wedded to that bell. I remember, too, the spirit and earnest- ness with which the old-fashioned choir sang the hymns, for it was in truth a part of the religious service, and the choir felt so, for it sang because of its religious zeal, and not be- cause there was a question of a salary.
But a little farther along the street I came to the office of my old friend, Whittemore, an old and time-honored resi- dent, who, so far as I know, has managed the only judicial laundry the town has ever had, and the burden of whose re- frain has been 10 and costs. When I alighted from the train last evening, the first person to grasp me cordially by the hand, was your police force, who seems to grow more jolly and more rotund each time I see him.
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" Music hath charms to soothe the savage soul," and to- day as I noted the incessant but not pernicious activity of your fellow townsman, Mr. George Mclaughlin, and recalled that every well regulated family in this part of the state is sup- posed to have among its household furnishings, one of his New England organs, I could but think if the old adage were really true and music did soothe, that he must be regarded as the only human, active soothing syrup Cape Cod ever pro- duced.
My friends, in looking over this audience, there are many thoughts that crowd upon me. I am like an engineer, I " have her wide open " and am running easily, but swiftly down grade with nothing to fear, unless I come in contact with an obstruction ; but I fear I shall meet with an obstacle in the guise of your displeasure, if I continue longer. I have already rambled more than was my original intention, and should I continue, it would not only be discourteous to you, but to the galaxy of intellectual lights whom you have met to hear. I have not spoken in a serious vein, for your liter- ary committee informed me they should not expect it, and because of the assertion of a friend, who assured me that if I undertook to be otherwise than desultory, and did not allege to be facetious, that all who knew me would be ready to swear to an affadavit, that my speech had been written for me, and was doing neither more nor less than could be done by a phonograph, so I have but given you a bit of both as a precursor to the more solidified feast that is to follow.
In closing I wish to give expression to one thought, sug- gested forcibly by the sad observations, made this morning by a well known visitor, now in your midst. We who have come back to the old home to take part in the festivities of this occasion, and, although enjoying them to the utmost, . yet in our inner consciousness we are saddened, we feel a pang of sorrow as we become impressed, even in the midst of all this gaiety, that not a few of those who were so lovingly a part of our earlier life, have crossed the grim flood, with that same ferryman which poets write of, unto the kingdom of eternal life, and in revisiting the old home and the old haunts, we keenly realize that there are loved ones gone, and the taking away of their lives has taken just so much out of
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the enjoyment of ours, and we recall that when the home knew no vacant chair, that the circle of that fireside was the circumference of our lives and desires. As you and I let our thoughts dwell upon the days of our youth, we can but sigh
' for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still."
THE TOASTMASTER.
We have with us to-day one so well known to you all that an introduction would be but a superfluity, one whom the people of this Commonwealth have delighted to honor, one who has shown his eminent qualifications for filling any and all positions he has been called upon to occupy, and it is with pleasure that I call upon Hon. John D. Long to re- spond to the toast:
The New England towns - They are the nucleus of the coun- try's prosperity, and from which came the sturdy and brainy men, who have developed the land, tapped its resources, been its mental and financial prop and placed it at the head of the procession of na- tions.
HON. JOHN D. LONG.
This is certainly a great day for Cape Cod. The spirit of celebration is echoing all along the sandy length and illu- minating the waters that lovingly embrace it on either side. On the 1st ult., we re-embalmed the Pilgrims who made this shore the stepping stone to the Plymouth threshold, and round whom, as their shattered barque came in from the per- ils of the deep, the Cape threw its great protecting arm. To-day we again honor the Pilgrim and pay our tribute to the fathers who planted and the sons who have watered the good seed, which, under the blessing of God, has had this great increase.
A few months ago we celebrated the centennial of the inauguration of our national government. And yet, what we were celebrating as a beginning, was itself an accom- plished work, resulting not from any special cause or partic- ular event, but from the natural growth and development
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of a political and social system, which had started at Ply- mouth and Boston and here in Sandwich a century and a half earlier. It was a system under which brave and intelli- gent Christian freeman, settling along our coast and expand- ing toward the interior, lived in simple ways, pursued homely avocations, tilled the soil, built vessels, engaged in commerce, combined hard manual labor with good social po- sition, enjoyed a democratic church, brought education to the threshold of every child, inaugurated a republican form of government by representation, and by a thorough train- ing of one hundred and fifty years prepared the popular mind for the responsibilities, which national independence brought. Thus it was that what seemed to Europe the mi- raculous spectacle of a people suddenly assuming self-gov- ernment and a constitution of equal rights, was really no stranger than that the oak, strong with the growth of centu- ries, should endure the tempest which sways its leafy top, but disturbs not its trunk or its roots. The institution of the New England town was the college in which these students in local self-government graduated, and every man in New Eng- land was such a student. As I think of their work, the con- summation of which we celebrate today, and the story of which the orator of the morning has rehearsed, I look back through the long vista of years with a feeling of profound respect and veneration. You could today in other lands have visited shrines of grander fame, over which are temples wrought by masters of architecture and gorgeous with the work of masters of art. You could in imagination re-create from Greek and Roman, and still more from Oriental ruins, the magnificent grandeur and glory of dynasties that have ruled the world. You could in Westminster Abbey hold communion with the illustrious dead, who won the most conspicuous glory of warrior and statesman, orator, poet, scholar and divine. But none of these suggest to us the humanity and beauty and significance of the birthplace of a town like this. For here no broken column of fallen temples tells of the magnificence and luxury of the few, wrung from the poverty and degradation of the many ; no statue or shrine perpetuates not so much the greatness of one man as the inferiority of the body of the . people. Here, rather began that growth of a free people,
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that common recognition in town organization of the equal rights of all men, which could not endure that any child should be uneducated ; or that any poor should remain un- fed ; or that any one caste should hold supremacy, or any other be ground under foot; or that any slave should long breathe Massachusetts air. The civilization of other peo- ples has been a slow evolution from misty and barbarous beginnings, aided even by the invasion or conquest of other powers. Our fathers began themselves at the summit, stand- ing clear and self-sustained against the sunrise. There are no shadowy beginnings, no day of mean things; no semi- barbarism, out of which there has been an exodus, but rather always a spirit of advanced intellectual and national life. No more generous enthusiasm for learning goes into your schools to-day, than they put into theirs. They dotted your landscape with the spires of churches. I love these towns, and sigh that for more than half the people of the Common- wealth they exist no longer. Think what magnificent mem- ories and associations they embody for us, and how crowded is the record of every one of them with heroic names and with participation in great heroic events. We are no longer the new world. We are venerable with age. The world moves now so swift that a hundred years are more than a thousand in the middle ages.
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