USA > Maine > Hancock County > Northeast Harbor > Northeast Harbor; reminiscences > Part 3
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So, when the gasoline engine appeared and was put into the sloops, it had its ad- vantages for towing home the sloops with- out engines, and for picnics and trips; but its non-feathering propeller-blades really spoiled the racing with sloops. The lobster- men, of course, rejoiced in the new inven- tion, which not only took them easily to their fishing grounds, but was sometimes rigged to hoist their lobster pots for them as well.
But for racing purposes it soon became clear that it must be all sail or all motor.
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The modern rage for "developing individ- uality" extended beyond the humans to their belongings, and we soon had the pure sail- ing knockabout, and the pure motor boat, and developed racing as it exists among us today.
May this wholesome sport of racing-on the sea-long prevail!
Is walking a sport? Perhaps it should be so classified, since, with elevators and mo- tors, no one seems to walk nowadays for any other reason. Perhaps Mt. Desert, with its mountains and woods and trails, will be famed in the future as the place where the art was kept alive.
Bar Harbor was long ahead of us in paths. We began very modestly. Mrs. Cabot, end- ing a long visit in the early nineties, handed a ten-dollar bill to a friend and said, "Do a little something for Northeast with that."
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Surprising as it must seem to modern wage- earners, that ten dollars paid at that day for a week's work of an active man, who, with- in that space, built the first trail over School- house Ledge to Hadlock Pond.
This path was marked with well-cut wooden arrows, and was an immediate suc- cess. But the excellence of the idea bred rather an excess of imitators. Everyone who had a happy thought about a trail pro- ceeded to develop this thought with his hatchet, and mark the result with an arrow. The result was that this comparatively small space of woodland became a perfect laby- rinth, with as many trails as there were walkers and as many arrows as there were points to the compass. But the walker of today will find little trace of this labyrinth, for we soon sobered down from this debauch of small-trail building, the useless paths were abandoned, their arrows were gathered
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in for use elsewhere, and Nature accepted our apologies and soon obliterated our errors.
Then we turned to more serious trail- work. Something of the same passion for individual route-marking had broken out on Sargent, and the long ridge from Asticou upward was cumbered with a mass of cairns set by well-meaning walkers who were sure their particular route was better than any previously known. United action straight- ened out this tangle, and we turned our at- tention to making and marking the trail up Sargent by the "Waterfall" and to develop- ing the new approach by the "Giant's Slide."
We even ventured across the Sound and blazed trails across Robinson and through the wilderness of the Western Mountains, and generally made up for our early delay in starting; and the whole system was soon shown on the path-maps, covering the entire island, which we know so well today.
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The care of these trails, with many other public enterprises, is the serious business of several Village Improvement Societies, which have become almost supplementary to the town governments. The record of the rela- tions between our Improvement Society and the town authorities has always been most satisfactory. We have contributed money toward various public expenses like side- walks, watering roads, and the like, and we have also contributed suggestions about things needed, and these suggestions have always been considered with open mind and often adopted, and money voted to carry them out. A very agreeable record.
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THE COLONY ITSELF
Now all this that has been said shows only the framework. The essence of the whole is the kind of people who come to fill this framework and make the final picture.
The dominant figure in it for many years was that of Bishop Doane. President Eliot was probably better known to the nation at large, but he entered into the village life less than did the other. He was devoted to his pleasant cliff-dwelling opposite Bear Island, where his family gradually settled around him, and here he entertained his many dis- tinguished guests and lived his life, little
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affected by the social activities of the colony. Yet he was always ready to lend both voice and hand to any plan for the public good. He was a great figure, stirring our pride, but it was to the other that we chiefly gave our affection.
It is probably true that the Bishop was the magnet that brought many of his friends here in the beginning. At any rate, it was so thought. The old engineer of the steamer "Mt. Desert," in a moment of confidence, once said to me, apropos of Sorrento and its failure to fulfill its early promise,-"I tell you it would have paid them fellers at Sor- rento to have given Bishop Doane five thou- sand dollars-yes, it would have paid them to give him ten thousand dollars-to come and settle there." The first and only ap- praisal of a Bishop that I ever met in my practice! But whatever his pecuniary worth, the Bishop was of the very greatest value to this community in both the intellectual and
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the religious sense. He was essentially "a big man." Nothing proved this more than the way in which he carried off his adoption of the English Bishop's dress, gaiters, apron, shovel-hat and all; the inevitable comment that this aroused passed over him quite harmlessly-it was merely the Bishop's way. It would have killed a smaller man.
On the social side, the Irish strain in his blood made him a charming companion and a brilliant talker. The same strain made him cold to the Puritan theory that to enjoy the good things of this life was synonymous with sin. When Mr. Morgan, Senior, sum- moned his faithful Louis Sherry to go with him to Chicago, or wherever the Episcopal Convention was to meet, and establish a luxurious ménage for him and his guests, no one appreciated the situation more than did Bishop Doane. But all this did not hinder his being a man of very genuine and deep
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religious faith and feeling. He was zealous, of course, for his own Communion and took a leading part in their conventions, and in all discussions of Church polity, not only here but in England; yet he was always tol- erant of the beliefs and feelings of those who could not see eye to eye with him-a broad- mindedness which grew as time went on. Those of us who could not share his creeds never felt, during many years of close inti- macy, even the shadow of the ecclesiastical cold-shoulder, or a breath of proselyting. All in all, he was a very fine gentleman and a great religious leader. It was well to have known him.
But if the father was the chief figure on the intellectual and religious side, the daugh- ter and her husband were the unquestioned leaders in our social life and in all projects for our material prosperity.
The names of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner
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occur often in these reminiscences for the simple reason that they cannot be left out; for they were pioneers in everything. The young people of today do not know that they owe most of the things they enjoy here to the zeal and energy of this gifted daugh- ter of the Bishop and her husband. But so it is.
Not only the young, but the children of today owe much to their inventive energy. "Mummy," said one of their children, "why must the Tree be always at Christmas? Why can't we have a midsummer tree?" And they could and did have it, on a sum- mer afternoon in midsummer, with all its joys (save the candles ) year after year. And Mrs. Milliken has glorified, and carried on the fête, as a piece of the tradition of the spot.
Soon other figures began to come on the scene. Among them was President Gilman of Johns Hopkins, who built a house, and
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gave us the same quality of personal charm that so marked Bishop Doane, though no one could be quite his equal.
To his house came, for long visits, his sister-in-law, Miss Woolsey, one of those brilliant women whose talk delights every- body and then vanishes with her death, be- cause there was no Boswell to take it down, and so few can remember it.
The Rev. Dr. Huntington also joined the colony soon after its beginning, settling on the west shore of the harbor, and added his intellectual and cultivated comradeship to the general life.
Farther up the shore, at Harbourside, Mrs. Casper Wister settled in the house now owned by her granddaughter, Mrs. Tunis. Mrs. Burr, in her interesting and brilliant life of Dr. Weir Mitchell, says of her life at Northeast :---
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"Mrs. Casper Wister held a sort of Court in her house 'Journey's End,' while a number of agree- able ladies circled about in orbits regular or even eccentric. Dr. Furness was sometimes prevailed upon to visit his sister (although he found the cli- mate chilly) and his arrival was made an excuse for large, animated gatherings. Mrs. Wister adored and reverenced her scholar-brother with all the concentration that was hers by nature, and on one occasion, as he was settling himself on the plat- form about to read 'Hamlet' and she was gazing at him with intensest admiration, Miss Sophy Irwin leaned over to whisper with an ironical reminder -'You know, Nannie, he didn't write it!'
She was nothing if not frank, and the novelist sometimes got real criticism, when what he wanted was admiration. She was a valued proof-reader and liked to remind the author that he couldn't spell. Her granddaughter remembers seeing the pair in conference over a manuscript and Dr. Mitchell's rueful look as Mrs. Wister drew a pen- cil through the page saying in her most decided voice, 'Bad grammar, my dear Weir, bad gram-
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mar ! It won't do!' But it is not likely Dr. Mitchell took the advice, for all his gentle accept- ance of it."
Nearby lived Miss Agnes Irwin and her sister, Miss Sophy Irwin, the clever descend- ants of Benjamin Franklin's daughter, Mrs. Bache, "Philadelphians by inheritance and adoption," who among other multitudinous occupations, "admired Dr. Weir Mitchell enormously and corrected him firmly when- ever they thought he needed it." The fa- mous doctor seems to have enjoyed his chas- tenings, for, in speaking of Meredith, he writes :- "He was the most brilliant talker I ever heard among men. Among women -well, Sarah Wister, Mrs. Bell of Boston, Agnes Irwin." He certainly knew what good talk was, so the compliment is worth recording.
Miss Schuyler and her sister, direct de- scendants of Alexander Hamilton, came
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later, and, after some seasons on the shore of Gilpatrick's Cove, finally bought a house near the Clifton. There Miss Schuyler spent some of the later summers of that active and patriotic life which made her admittedly one of New York's first citizens.
On the highest rock of Schoolhouse Ledge, Mary, eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, settled with her husband, Dr. Frazier of Philadelphia. To those who knew her no words are needed. Those who did not know her will be fortunate if they can read the memoirs of her put together by her husband.
But to return to the geography of the col- ony and its settlers. The vantage points were early occupied. Bishop Mackay Smith built on the headland west of the Sea Wall; Mr. Wheelwright took the eastern entrance- point of the harbor and Mr. Corning the western; and Mr. Curtis and Mrs. Wesson
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looked across at one another from the heights. Farther westward Mrs. Lewis nes- tled within "The Bishop's Close," and Mr. Sargeant took the meadow beyond, leaving room, however, for the fine house later built by Miss Blodgett.
Still farther along the shores, Mr. Frazier bought the eastern point of Gilpatrick's Cove, and Mr. Seth Low, as tenant, held the other entrance-point for many years, interrupted only by his terms as Mayor of New York. Bishop Greer succeeded him.
Governor Wolcott bought a house with a wide open space, commanding all the west- ward view, and Mrs. Scull, on the contrary, seeking shelter, hid her house behind the trees of the Swimming Pool.
The Rev. Cornelius Bishop Smith chose the shore of the Sound and built there the house now owned by his daughter, Mrs.
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Cromwell, the protectress of the "Sunset Services."
This may seem a mere dull catalogue of names. But here is the way Mrs. Burr refers to the whole island-and of no part of it was it more true than of Northeast Harbor. In no uncertain note, she writes :-
"In those days the whole island resembled a miniature firmament, starred with conversational luminaries, who attracted around them minor planets, asteroids and other celestial satellites. Comets of varying magnitude blazed in the skies now and then during brief visits; otherwise these solar systems pretty well maintained their integ- rity, summer after summer. All of them had one thing in common-a love of the holiday that was Mt. Desert's glory to provide. Active outdoor life -exercise both for brain and brawn; ‘talk and walk' as the motto was-nobody asked for more. Whether you saw Dr. Mitchell in tweeds on a mountain top or Bishop Doane acting coxswain to his grandchildren in a sort of arch-episcopal barge,
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you had the same effect of vivid enjoyment. These two remained 'Weir' and 'Billy' to one another, and were the last to use the names.
The latter will be remembered as foremost in that ecclesiastical conclave, for during at least one summer in the writer's memory, Northeast Har- bor might have repeated the Trial of the Seven Bishops in its dramatis personæ. Many were the stories told of the effect made by Bishop Doane's dress on a community largely congregational . This was at first. After a while the woods were full of gaiters and aprons, with the goldenhaired Gardiner children as bodyguard and His Grace of Albany's great Dane as outrider. Sometimes Mr. Morgan's yacht lay in harbor, huge and mysteri- ous, circled by the children of the place in their rowboats, with cautious and awe-struck curiosity Anxiously the whole community awaited the Sunday following the Morgan visit, when al- most invariably Bishop Doane, in his rich and roll- ing voice, would announce some gift of importance to the little wooden church he loved. Others, too, loved it; the stone building that succeeded was
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never quite the same. The dog never strolled in to search for his Bishop-master during service, as sometimes occurred in the first rural sanctuary."
Among Mrs. Burr's "comets" perhaps the most famous was Lord Bryce-then plain Mr. Bryce-who spent several summers here while ambassador, turning "Ye Haven" in- to both a summer home and an official chan- cellery. He was as devoted to the hills as Dr. Weir Mitchell himself, and as fond of the water as President Eliot. Coming back with the latter from a trip to Great Cran- berry one afternoon, with the sunset glow lighting up the hilltops and leaving the val- leys black with shadow, he said to his com- panion :- "On the whole, I think that is one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen." Coming from a man who had prob- ably seen more lands and seas than any of his contemporaries, it was another compli- ment that is worth recording.
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Another, though lesser, luminary who came and went at intervals, was Monsignor Doane, a younger brother of the Bishop. In early life he had left the church of his father and brother, and had become a Roman Catholic, to the great grief of his Protestant relatives. But it presumably gave him what he wanted in spiritual support, and it certainly gave him preferment in his church, as his title of "Monsignor" showed -technically a member of the Pope's house- hold.
But grief at religious parting never dimmed the love between the brothers, and their con- tinued affectionate relations were a tribute to both. His nieces, too, were devoted to him, and he seemed as young as any of them. But if he thought they needed discipline, they got it. Coming down late for an ap- pointed walk one morning with apologies for keeping him waiting, they found him
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1
pacing to and fro, reading his breviary. "My dears, do not interrupt me. Do you not see I am saying my office?" And only when he had finished it-or thought he had pun- ished them enough-did the ecclesiastic van- ish and the uncle appear, ready for their spree, all once again of the same real age. Yet, for all his inner youth, with a scarlet robe and the red hat, he would have looked as if just out of some seventeenth century picture.
Many more names might be added-in- cluding even that of his Grace, the Arch- bishop of Canterbury.
All those of whom I have spoken are gone. They have been succeeded by so many that our summer families now number no less than one hundred and eighty, at times -a seemingly impossible number until one notes the dots and names on Mrs. Knowles'
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map. And because these successors are all happily alive, I can say nothing about them. To catalogue them were idle, for Mrs. Hill does that. To criticize them I have neither cause nor desire-are they not all my neigh- bors? To praise them I am forbidden be- cause of the strange fetish that "bouquets," both literal and figurative, must be kept for funerals and obituaries; though as to the former, we cannot but sympathize with the old lady who emerged from a floral funeral wishing that "her friends would send her her flowers while she could still smell them," and as to the latter, how often would a little living praise cheer the diffident ones of this world!
But rules must be observed and we can only say that no more interesting and agree- able colony exists in the length and breadth of the land. And there we must leave them.
THE END
Set up and printed in the United States of America by White & Horne Company Hallowell, Maine
1362
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