USA > New York > Steuben County > Bath > The official records of the centennial celebration, Bath, Steuben County, New York, June 4, 6, and 7, 1893 > Part 7
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More than 2,200 years ago, on the field of Marathon, 10,000 Greeks, organized, disciplined, obeying the mind of one man, swept through and through and broke into pieces the ranks of 100,000 Persians, and turned back the tide of barbarism from overwhelming Greece. This success was found largely in organization. At a later period, you remember how Frederick the Great engaged for seven years with France and Austria, and part of the time with Russia, with his little Kingdom of seven millions in number, organized until he was called the "Drill Sergeant of Europe," turned back the tide and saved the autonomy of Prussia. In our time, or in the time of some of us, we remember how the little organized army of General Scott marched from Vera Cruz and captured the city of Puebla with 80,000 inhabitants, the city of Mexico with 200,000 inhabitants, and yet that army
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at no time numbered more than 14,000 men. Such is the power of organi- zation. And I speak of it here because the Church is a great organized force in favor of law and order. Our sheriff in this town knows that were a mob to start in Bath to-night, every sheriff that has held the office in the county of Steuben since the county was organized knew, that if a mob was started he would have at his back the moral support and the physical support, so far as they were able, of every church member in the community. This renders the influence of the Church on society very powerful.
Another mighty power for good is the influence of the Church in the temperance cause. The one great evil of the time, now that slavery has been wiped out, perhaps the greatest evil which confronts us, is this great evil of intemperance. Many things are tried, many ways are resorted to to meet it, many things are done to parry its baleful influence, and yet the fact remains that it is taking away our young men and our boys, and that it is sweeping through the land with a tide of desolation that is appalling to the hearts of Christian men and women. But now I see arrayed against this great evil what was not so thoroughly arrayed against it a hundred years ago, the whole moral influence of all these churches, and the great body of church members to-day, of all denominations and of all per- suasions, are total abstainers themselves. Members of these churches have seen this evil ; they have seen that there must be a great moral force raised up to stem the tide, and the consequence is, that more than ever before the Christian Church to-day is an organization of those who abstain from the use of intoxicating drinks ; and see what has been the influence of this in one hundred years, in two hundred years. History tells us that Leisler and Millburn were executed in New York city, in 1692, because a governor was persuaded, in his intoxication, to sign the death warrant. What would be said in this latter part of the nineteenth century, if a gov- ernor of the State of New York were to be found guilty of intoxication ? To the honor of our governors, to the honor of our religion, to the honor of the Church and of Christian public opinion, we are never disgraced by such a thing. And yet our own state-or what is now our own state-two hundred years ago was disgraced by two political murders because Gov- ernor Slaughter, sent out by William the Third, is said to have signed the death warrants when under the influence of intoxicants.
Another thing to which I would call your attention is the elevating and inspiring influence of the doctrines of the Church. What can make such heroes of men and women as the belief that after the trials and temp- tations, after all the sorrow and all the suffering and all the happiness of this world, there is a great hereafter, where they shall know and be known ? When, one hundred years ago, the French were in their revolution, when public opinion was seething and boiling, and the guillotine was doing its
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bloody work, they thought they must blot out the Church ; they must blot out men's belief in a future ; they must blot out men's ideas that there is another life ; so they wrote on the gravestones, " Death is an eternal sleep." And under the influence of that error, under the influence of that teaching, the blood of sixty thousand of France's best flowed in the gutter to appease the idol that they set up when they declared that there is no God. Think of the pioneers of our country, think what they endured here in our own community, think what they endured where the Pilgrims landed, think what they endured in Virginia, think what they endured everywhere in doing this pioneer work, and you will see that they were inspired by something more than the love of gain, something higher than the idea of getting a home for a few years, they were inspired with the idea of a life hereafter ; and I think there is no other belief in the world that compares with it-the belief of a future life.
And the greatest lesson of the Church, which is put into the minds of children, which is put into the minds of young men and young women when the world has its greatest attractions for them, which is a solace to men in business and men engaged in worldly affairs, which is the great support and stay of those in the decline of life, is this doctrine of a future life. The belief in that state that is to come after this, a consciousness that we have something to live for more than this world can give, that there is something in integrity and purity and loftiness of thought, that love is of God and takes hold on God, and will be satisfied only with God, this idea inspires men with the highest and noblest purposes, with the high- est and noblest courage, with the highest and noblest fortitude to bear all the ills that may come to them.
And now as we stand here to-night with the door of a new century just ajar, just a little we can see through into that century. What are we to see ? what are we to do?
At the beginning of the great Wilderness campaign President Lincoln wrote to General Grant, " And now, with a brave army and a just cause, may God defend the right." So I say to-night to all these churches, with all their organizations, the church organization, the Sunday School organi- zation, the home organization, the Society of Christian Endeavor, the Ep- worth League, the Altar Society, the Character Builders-so I say to you, with a brave and noble organization and a righteous cause, may God speed the right. And as we stand at this open door of the new century, what do we see as we look around us? We see our churches built, we see our village in great prosperity, we see this village smiling with its homes, we see our school houses built and endowed, we see a great deal of material prosperity. All these things our fathers have done for us. And now the great task before us is a task of intellectual and moral building. There is something in this world grander than church edifices, however grand ; there is some- thing in this world better than church building, however excellent, and
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that is character building, the building up of men and women into the similitude of God. I was thinking to-day that the great church of St. Peters forever commemorates the genius of Michael Angelo; that St. Pauls is the monument to Sir Christopher Wren ; but I could not help thinking that the Christian world would not name St. Peters after Michael Angelo, nor would the Christian world in England, name St. Pauls after Sir Christopher Wren. The one bears the name of that man who is said to have been crucified with his head down that he might, if possible, suf- fer greater indignities than his divine Master, and it is called, not the church of Michael Angelo, but the church of St. Peter. And the great and beautiful edifice planned by Sir Christopher Wrean is called, not the Wren church, but the church of that immortal Christian, St. Paul.
And now, at the beginning of a new century, with all these material resources around about us, with all these organizations ready to do our work, what may we not expect ? It should be our business as Christians, it should be our business as churches, to set up standards as we have the standard set up by St. Paul, as we have the standard set up by St. Peter, as we have the standard set up by St. John. Let us remember that he who sets up the highest Christian standard does more for the world than he who builds a church. The example and life of Joseph are worth more to-day than they ever were before ; and I say to young men, when you want to read something of value, go to your homes and sit down and read the story of Joseph. And the man or the woman who, in our own time, as life shall go on, shall set up the highest standard in Bath, will be the most honored in the future.
And as I have thought of this opening century, of all the things that will transpire here in the next one hundred years, as I thought of the beginning in that wilderness one hundred years ago, and of all the trials of those early pioneers, I could not help thinking that I would like to be here one hundred years from to-night to hear someone speak at the next Centennial. I have often felt the spirit of that hymn which you sing,
"I would not live always, I ask not to stay."
But I would like to be here one hundred years from now to see what standards of Christian character, what standards of manhood and woman- hood will be set up, on what tableland, 10,000 feet higher, some moral plateau higher than that on which we stand, the generations to come may be. It seems to me as we start out, that what time there is left to us, a united effort should be made here that the first five years, that the first ten years, the first fifteen years of the next century, shall receive such an im- petus from those who are here to start it, that its influence will be felt clear down through to the next Centennial.
PART TWO.
EXERCISES AT THE CASINO.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, JUNE 6, 1893,
ADDRESS OF WELCOME.
BY REUBEN E. ROBIE, ESQ.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN :- We have assembled this afternoon to com- mence, in some befitting manner, the literary exercises attendant upon the celebration of the one hundredth anniversary of the first settlement of our town ; to live over again, as it were, the years which have passed, since that event in our history occurred, and to recall the names and inci- dents in the lives of not only those who have helped to build up and make our town and village what they are to-day, but also the names and lives of all those others whom the town and village of Bath have the right to claim as their sons and daughters.
As that noble band of hardy pioneers, who first landed here on an April day of one hundred years ago, undoubtedly often turned their thoughts retrospectively to the homes and friends they had left across the great waters, to brave the hardships of a life in this then Western wilder- ness ; so our thoughts will be turned backward as we listen to the story of those early scenes in our town's pioneer history, and to the review of the roll of those sons and daughters who have helped to make up that history, as it shall be given to us by the many gentlemen to whom it may be our privilege to listen during these commemorative exercises.
In doing all this, in preparing a careful record of all those events and incidents, as they are told us, we shall make a history, which will not only prove to be a source of great pleasure and benefit to all those whose privi- lege it shall be to attend these exercises, but also of priceless value to the generations yet unborn.
While in these one hundred years we have not realized, in some par- ticulars, the expectations of those early pioneers and of many of their contemporary writers ; while our village never grew to be the " Western Metropolis," as they predicted it would ; yet, as a town and village, there is nothing in the past for us to be ashamed of ; we have nothing to apologize for, nothing to regret, and we can confidently assert that no town nor com- munity has ever reared sons and daughters who have made better citizens and members of society than the town of Bath has.
Of the long line of her sons who have won distinction upon the bench, at the bar, in federal and state legislative halls, in the pulpit, in the army
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and in the navy, and in all the other walks of life ; and of her large num- ber of noble, self-sacrificing, pure, earnest, Christian women and mothers, I should love to speak at length, were I not reminded that in so doing I should encroach upon the field allotted to the many gentlemen who will address us during the continuance of these exercises.
The pleasant privilege has been assigned to me, to welcome home all those who have at this time come back to revisit the scenes of their birth and early manhood and womanhood, to renew their youth, and to join with us in these observances ; and to all such, on behalf of the Centennial Committee and our citizens generally, I give you, one and all, a most cor- dial and hearty greeting of welcome.
As you go about our streets you will miss the forms and faces of many of those with whom you were familiar in your youth-and many of you may search in vain for more than a score of familiar faces-those who are not here to extend to you a warm and heartfelt greeting ; their names you will find recorded in yonder village cemetery. You will miss the old Court House, the old Churches, the Eagle Tavern, the Clinton House, the old Red School House, the old pumps upon the Square, the old Union School House, and countless other of the material friends of your childhood, but thanks to the noble generosity of two of our citizens, if you will but turn your eyes to the old South Hill and to Mossy Bank, the oldest of you will recognize a familiar landmark, which still remains undisturbed in its grandeur, still clothed in all its primitive verdure and loveliness.
To all those who are not to the manor born, who shall honor us with their presence, whether their homes be in sister towns, neighboring cities, or elsewhere, we extend a welcome none the less cordial and hearty, and we bid them also to join us in showing all homage to those men who sought out this beautiful valley those men who hewed their way here through the primeval forests, and to those who, coming after, populated and built up our town and village, for in so doing we, one and all, shall honor our- selves.
CENTENNIAL POEM.
BY ZENAS L. PARKER,
A hundred years ago, The spot on which we stand was Nature's wild domain. No white man's foot Had pressed its Winter snows, or Summer sands. No white man's axe had felled a tree,
Or blazed a track in all these forest lands.
No cultured eye Had feasted on the beauty of these crystal rills, Or on the glory of these wood-crowned hills. Old Father Time had wrapped them in his kind embrace Through centuries now past. But the echoes of the woodman's axe
Must come at last ; The time for action, and for toil, The time to utilize God's virgin soil.
Charles Williamson, a man of Scottish birth, A subject of the British Crown,
Believed he saw, down through the lapse of time,
Fortune and fame in this wild Western clime. At once he planned to cross the trackless sea, And swear allegiance to the Banner of the Free. He made the venture,
And in December, Seventeen Hundred Ninety-one, This Scotchman's feet stood on Columbia's plains, And pure Scotch blood Coursed through another freeman's veins. Before six months had passed away, A man, from whom our Morris street took name, Conveyed to Williamson these chosen lands, Of Baron Steuben fame. On June the third of that historic year, He led a party on his first survey Of hill and vales and streams,
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His eyes had never seen, except Through mystic visions and fairy midnight dreams. A land where red-skinned hunters slept, Or chased the bounding buck or wily doe, And with unerring aim, laid many a victim low, As up he passed through fair Gahata vale, Where cars now swiftly glide along the rail, Do-na-ta-guenda caught his anxious gaze, And inspiration tuned his tongue with praise. Two valleys met and joined in fond embrace, And joy seemed radiant on his glowing face. He paused to view this panoramic scene, With swelling heart and anxious mien. Down through the vista of the years With true prophetic eye he peers, And on this lovely plain, where we in peace abide, He saw a thriving city in its luxury and pride, Surrounded by majestic hills, Like Bath of English fåme, The home of Pulteney and his friends.
He gave it that laconic name. His course from thence was plain and clear. This unborn child, Conceived in June the nineteenth day,
Must be a living fact, without prolonged delay. Returning to Northumberland, his chosen rendezvous, He organized a band of men, with settlement in view. With needed help, and full supplies To warrant such an enterprise ; With trust in God, and in each brawny arm, At Captain Williamson's behest,
They launched two boats upon the river's breast.
With human muscle for propelling force, They bared their bosoms toward the river's source. The Susquehanna's rocks and shoals Were passed successfully in turn, But difficulties multiplied, And grew at length so great, They found it quite impossible Two boats to navigate. Hence one was left in care of few,
And one passed on with double crew. Behold that clumsy oarless craft,
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Upon this narrow highland stream, Fettered with rocks and fallen trees That in its channel lies, And zigzag as the lightning's track Athwart the midnight sky. With poles and ropes and dauntless hearts, From morn till evening gray, They force their tiny ship along its winding way.
See ! now she's fast upon some rift or tree ; Hark ! hear the Captain's " All together, now, heo-he !" And she lifts as if by magic power, And hastens on the long expected hour.
Thus ere the fifteenth April sun Had closed its daily round, Their eyes had seen and feet had pressed This consecrated ground. They had not come for rest and leisure ;
They had not come to seek for ease and pleasure ; They had not come to picnic for an hour, And hurry back if clouds began to lower ; They had not come to war with native or wild beast, Nor had they come on luxury to feast.
They came prepared to struggle and to toil,
To battle with the giant trees that occupied the soil ; They came a town to build Where these two charming valleys kiss the adjacent hills, And on that graceful slope just south of Pulteney Square They laid the sills.
Beneath their heavy blows, with blades of steel, The giants of the soil began to reel,
And from the logs then cut from trees they fell,
They built for Williamson a house in which to dwell. 'Twas there, amidst the pains and throes of frontier strife, This child political was ushered into life.
It had no garments trimmed and frilled, as babies have of late, And hence they wrapped it tenderly in swaddling clothes, And laid it in the lap of State, A hundred years ago.
To-day, a full grown century crowns it With civil stars, all burnished bright, And girds it round with golden bands Of genial Christian light.
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Now as we enter on the century's domain, Prepared to strike the chords upon a harp That has ten thousand strings, We come with tender, loving words, Because men's characters are sacred things. We come not here to torture, but to comfort ; We come to tell you how the good has triumphed With majestic power,
Despite the evil of the past or present hour ;
We come to strike the symphonies Upon that princely harp,
Whose strings attach to earth,
Yet reach to Heaven above,
In consonance with Nature, And Nature's God of love.
The Poet's license has no limit, In speaking of the dead ; But when he deals with living men,
Their names must not be said. This proverb now must be the Poet's guide, And by it, in the main, he must abide.
Bath's infancy was short and sharp. The star of empire shone brightly on its forest bed, And Eastern sages to its wildwood shrine were quickly led. Her pioneers were men of push and pluck, Who came to win, but not by chance or luck ; And when they sought, but found no way, They went to work, and made a way. The first decade was pregnant with their power and skill. They molded mind and muscle, almost at will. The names of Williamson, Cameron, McClure and Harry McElwee, Though long since numbered with the dead, Are written still upon the very soil we tread. Nor was the soil the only element Developed by their Scotch and Irish blood ; Every vein and artery of trade and social life, Was made a channel in which this power was rife. They, with their noble compeers in the race, Left an impress on mind and matter, Which time itself will not efface. In every prosperous, thrifty town, A business center there must be,
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Where men of every class can mingle in their deal, And each the other's business pulse can feel. Where bankers, merchants, farmers, all meet on common ground, Where doctors, lawyers, workmen, in sympathy are found. As such a center, they chose this charming spot, And in the main, they drew the present village plot. I need not tell you how apropos was the choice, Nestling down upon this lovely plain, Walled round with hills, a sheltering chain. Cook's Hill, Mount Washington and Mossy Bank, Romantic pictures of Bath's immortal wall, To lovers of the beautiful, they never fade or pall. Placed there by Him who gave the mountains grace, Built by His hand upon their solid base, These pictures hung there when the pioneers First glimpsed the beauty of Gahata vale, And will remain, till morning stars forever pale.
What owner of a home in Bath Looks out across the stream, And views that now enchanting pine-clad steep, Where violets bloom and velvet mosses creep, Forgets to thank the generous hand That plucked it as a burning brand, That drew the check, and bought the deed Which saved it from the insatiate woodman's greed, When axe was raised to fell those pines and oaks, And leave to Bath but graceless pictures of its naked rocks. Thus saved from conflict With Bath's famed lumber mills, It proudly stands to-day, The matchless glory of her wood-crowned hills. Childhood goes there to leap and shout, Where joy is unconstrained ; Artists go there with practiced eye, To sketch the scene and show the skill they've gained; Nature's admirers climb its rugged side, And gaze with rapture on the landscape wide ; Students go there to rest the weary brain From classic toil and pungent thought, Scholastic truth to gain ; Parties go there with honored guests, And find that lofty goal -
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To be the acme of delight, The dream-land of the soul ; Lovers ascend that rock-bound front, Nor dream the pathway steep ; Then glancing down on scenes below, They view the spot where hallowed memories sleep. They talk together of congenial bliss, And wonder at the magic of a stolen kiss. Back of these hills on either side, And through the valleys rich and wide, Are cultured farms, Bath's greatest source of wealth, Where well-read farmers live in luxury and health. A few examples only can be brought, When we must pass to other fields of thought. The veteran hackman of the town is Uncle Joe, Joe Tharp, for short, will take us to and fro. He's coming now behind his iron-grays, Upon the hack he used in ancient days. The time is Autumn, when we pass the city's bounds, The " Noble " farm is quickly brought in view, And charms the eye of him who passes through. The fields are flush with corn and golden wheat, All ready now the harvester to greet. No foot of ground escapes the farmer's toil, No noxious shrub is seen upon the soil. Comfort and thrift seemed walking arm in arm,
As we passed through the "Noble " farm. The " Miller" farm was next in line, Though not so plainly seen.
Just out across the way in front
Lies Lake Salubria's sparkling shores, A fount of crystal water, The angels might adore. Methinks the servants of the gods, With blessings to deliver, Had filled this hollow in the earth From Heaven's celestial river. Just on the eastern slope there stands A grove of native trees, Where picnics gather for their annual feast And quaff its healthful breeze. The " Wilkes" farm next appears in sight, Stretching from hill to hill,
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Displaying to the passer by Delightful lands to till. Then " Bowlby " wins a special prize, For history's brightest page, By marks of thrift and industry, Becoming to the age. The "Campbell " farm Exemplifies the use of bowlder stone. Once on the fields In useless heaps they piled them, Or by the road-way they were thrown ; Farmers deemed them but a nuisance- Had no use for them at all.
Campbell makes them serve a purpose, Builds them into fencing wall.
We enter now upon John Smith's domain, And close with him this visiting campaign. On every hand the evidence is clear and full That industry and prudence have had supreme control. Clean fields, good crops, fine stock, And buildings all in modern style-
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