USA > Vermont > Caledonia County > Peacham > Caledonia County grammar school, Peacham, Vt. Report of the commemorative exercises, August 11-12, 1897 100th Anniversary > Part 3
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Your affectionate brother, MELLEN CHAMBERLAIN.
Miss A. Chamberlain,
Peacham, Vt., U. S. A.
(This letter sent by Havre and packet to New York. Mailed Boston, Mass., October 30, paid 18 3/4.)
JOSIAH KENERSON'S ADDRESS.
Mr. Josiah S. Kinerson, of Barnet, responded thus as his recollections of the school: Mr. Chairman :
Ladies and Gentlemen: When I was assisting in sending out invitations to the former pupils of the Caledonia County Grammar School to attend its centennial celebration to-day, I had not the remotest idea that I should be called upon to speak. In fact. I was not notified until the eleventh hour. "Worse than that," the clock was almost ready to strike twelve. Perhaps there may be some here who will recollect a cold water army, held here more than half a century ago in yonder church when it stood upon the hill. A little boy was placed on the table in front of the speaker's desk and asked to recite a parody. The two first lines were something like this:
"You hardly expect one of my age, To speak in public on the stage."
And I ask you, kind friends, if the lines just repeated are not more appropriate to-day than they were nearly sixty years ago? Then, a tiny boy from his mother's lap; now, an old man near- ing the sunset of life.
How well I recollect the first catalogue that I ever saw, with the name of C. C. Chase as preceptor on its title page; and I shall not soon forget hearing the fathers and mothers of the town speak of the interest that they took in establish- ing this school more than forty years before, and I shall never forget hearing them speak of Col. Alexander Harvey. Col. Harvey was born in Dundee, Scotland, in 1747. He came to Barnet and bought seven thousand acres of land for the pur- pose of forming homes for a colony that was to come after
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him. He united with the church in 1774. Twenty-three years later he was chairman of the first Board of Trustees, holding the same position a hundred years ago that his grandson, Hon. Cloud Harvey holds to-day. Mr. Harvey reared a family of eight sons and five daughters. His son, Hon. Peter Harvey, was a shining light in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for many years, and an intimate friend of the great Daniel Web- ster. His grandson, Enoch B. Harvey, who died in Calais, Me., last year, was a leading member of the Bar in Eastern Maine for more than thirty years. His widow, nee Ann Cameron, is now so tenderly cared for by her daughters in her sunset of life, in their once happy but now desolate home, made desolate by the loss of a loving husband and father. How many of us to-day look back with pride to our happiest school days with Ann Cameron as our teacher? None knew her but to respect.
Walter Harvey, Jr., was another grandson, who took his life in his hands, went into the service in the early days of the Rebellion, served his time, re-enlisted, came home on a short furlough, went back and was killed a few days before the war closed. George N. Harvey, who was raised on the Worces- ter farm, was a major in the service. And I must not forget to speak of Robert Harvey Brock, who was a Lt .- Col. in the 77th Illinois Regiment, and a gallant officer.
There was another man who did much for the welfare of this school. His name was Abial Blanchard. Born in Hollis, N. H., in 1747, settled in Peacham on the farm north of the village now owned by Mr. Moses Martin. This man not only put his hand down deep into his pocket, but freely gave the site for the first school building, the common for a playground for the boys and girls, and a wood lot to furnish fuel for the building.
His son was a member of Congress from Pennsylvania. His sons, grandsons and great grandsons have all been greatly interested in the welfare of the school, and, if you look at the present list of Trustees, you will find the name of Walter Blanchard on the board.
It was said in the army that when you found a Peacham Blanchard, you found a man who knew no fear. Natt Blanch- ard was as brave a soldier as ever carried a musket. His brother Enoch was a surgeon of the old 7th Vermont, and as I walk through the cemetery on the hill and come to a sacred mound where a Union officer lies sleeping, I am reminded of the military order: "Halt! Salute the dead!" I am standing by the side of the grave of an officer who cared more for the welfare of his men than any other officer that I ever knew. Search both armies, North and South, and I doubt if you can find a man who cared as much for the welfare of his men as did this man. His name was Lieut. John C. Blanchard, of Co. F., 15th Vermont Regiment. Thus have I briefly spoken of Col. Harvey and Capt. Blanchard as the founders of this school. Their descendants are to-day among the leading families of New England, and generations yet unborn will in the future point with pride to the names, Col. Alexander Harvey, and
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Capt. Abial Blanchard, for their names are written on history's bright page. There are others who did much for the welfare of the school that I should like to speak of, but time forbids.
I am thinking to-day of my first recollections of this school, away back in the days of old Master Chase. The last time that I met him was at his house in Lowell, Mass., and when I as- sured him who I was, he said: "Tell all of my boys and girls that I should like to see them." And if any of you who at- tended his school should go through Lowell, go down and see him. Any hackman will take you to the door.
Mr Chase had charge of the school from 1839 to 1844. Then came Mr. Wm. C. Bradley, who had charge of the school at the semi-centennial celebration.
How well I recollect when we were gathered in this yard fifty years ago! We had no tent, from storms a shelter and from heat a shade. Judge Redfield was the orator of the day and he gave a short address.
Then came that sainted man, Rev. David Merrill, who came to the rescue as he was wont to do in cases of emergency, and gave a most excellent address. During this time we were driven from the Academy yard to the church by a rain. From the church we went to the tables where an excellent dinner was provided. The next day the Blanchards met at the farm of Capt. Hazen Blanchard, where they had a great time. Just think of it! Seventy Blanchards in one house and yard, all talking at one time as fast as they could speak, not one knew what the other had said. They had what a "hash up" is to a New England boiled dinner. The second was better than the first. They decided that the United States was the best coun- try on the globe; that Vermont was the best State in the Union; Caledonia the best county in the State; that Peacham was the best town in the county; the Blanchard farm the best one in town; and that Mrs. Abel Blanchard was the best woman on earth.
After two very successful years of teaching by Mr. Brad- ley, came Mr. John Paul, Jr., then came Mr. Alfred Rix and Mr. Ira Osmore Miller. Both did excellent work as teachers. In 1852, 1853 and 1854 this school was managed by a man whose lamp went out at the early age of 28. Never in the history of the school did it receive such a "set back" as it did in the sickness and death of Thomas Scott Pearson and the removal of Miss Abby L. Hitchcocke. After Mr. Pearson came Mr. Rowell, S. S. Morrill, W. E. Barnard, all deserving more than a common notice. Then came Mr. C. O. Thompson and Rev. Lyman Watts, who were among the first teachers in their day. Then came Mr. Preston, Butler C. Chase, Jr., and a man named C. Q. Tirrill, whose pupils will long remember as one of the best of teachers. In 1867 this school fell into the hands of a teacher who had charge of it for more than a quarter of a century-Mr. Charles A. Bunker. Prof. and Mrs. Bunker stood as first in the school room, and to-day they stand as first
REV. JOHN H. WORCESTER Principal, 1832 Trustee, 1839-1847
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in the hearts of the people who attended their school during their twenty-eight years of service.
Twice has Mr. Bunker been the people's choice as county Senator, and last year he was sent back as a member of the House of Representatives by a larger vote than any man has received since the town was settled; am I not right Echo answers right. And as pupils may we be forgiven for our errors in the past. Heaven bless Prof. Cambridge and Miss Dimond. May they long be the last.
WILLIAM C. STRONG'S REMARKS.
William Chamberlain Strong, president of the Massachus- etts Horticultural Society, related reminiscences of Rev. Leon- ard Worcester, Preceptor Worcester and his own dear friend and college roommate, William C. Bradley.
I was born on the northern limit of Caledonia County, but the fame of the County Grammar School had extended not only throughout the county, but also to the far-off Keystone State, as I had sorrowful occasion to learn. My parents early decided to send me to "Peacham Academy," a misnomer even then in vogue, though less excusable at that time than at present. Soon after my arrival I was saluted by a self-important young Pennsylvanian with the quizzing question, "Is your name Straw?" You may imagine the shock to my sensitive nature in having the honored name of my ancestors so trifled with. I recall the disgust of the poet at the disrespect with which his favorite morning dish was spoken of:
"Dear hasty-pudding, how I blush To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee mush."
My moral nature had not been sufficiently trained, at that date, to return good for evil by calling this youthful Keystone spirit by the name of Wheat. However, I was taught by this incident a useful lesson in humility, a virtue for which I have ever after been distinguished. At the first, the strong im- pression made upon my mind was the personality of Rev. Leonard Worcester. I have no recollection of his sermons, the texts, or the threads of his discourses; he was perched in such a high pulpit that all this went easily over my head, at least. But one abiding impression was made by the uniform formula with which he approached the Throne of Grace. It was as if he stood in the very presence of the King of Kings. Over across the Common, on the hill, Preceptor Noah Worcester reigned supreme. What an elegant gentleman he was and how alert to pick up and to impart knowledge. It so happened that the science (if we may so call it) of phrenology was then attracting attention and our ever watchful preceptor became interested in it and availed himself of the facilities which the heads of the boys, and the girls as well, afforded for experi- ment. It was somewhat singular that his fingers were at times snarled in the boys' hair and he was known to have held on
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to their ears for a time longer than was necessary in the in- terest of strictly scientific investigation. However, we did not seriously question the preceptor's right to pursue such re- searches. But he was suddenly snatched away to larger fields and Preceptor Bartlett, a young man in his teens, smart as a steel trap, sprang into the chair. He brought us up to con- cert pitch in double quick time, you may well believe. It is sufficient to say that thus early he gave clear indications of the distinguished service which he was afterward to render as an educator. I have no right to prolong my words, but I cannot refrain from giving a brief tribute to the memory of my cousin, William C. Bradlee. I believe the Academy has had no more earnest, faithful and conscientious teacher than he was. Called to Boston, after but a single year of service here, he there made a record as a teacher which gave prom- ise of large usefulness as an educator. But his life was cut short in the midst of his days. With the flood of memories which crowd upon us at this hour, what reason for thankful- ness rests upon us for all the privileges and advantages we have enjoyed, as a result of the wise forethought of the found- ers of this Caledonia County Grammar School.
JUDGE WATERMAN.
Judge Arba N. Waterman, of Chicago, Ill., was then pre- sented as one of the alumni.
I am this day divided by contending emotions.
Upon the hill, in the graveyard reading the names of many who were my companions in years long past; wandering along the street beside dwellings just as they were forty years ago; waiting in vain for the opening of doors and the coming of those who should rush to meet me as they did when we were boys; I feel like the old man of whom the poet wrote:
"The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom. And the names he loved to hear,
Have been carved for many a year, On the tomb."
Then coming to this arena, receiving the welcome of those who survive, I rejoice in and am thankful for the affection that has not been buried by severance nor chilled by time.
Love alone ennobles life and makes it worth the living. We are met here because the memory of this place is sweet, because we love these hills, this school, those who in these walls entered into, became a part of our life. It is good for us to be here because it was good that we were here long ago. Pleasant were the hours here passed.
May the days of those who in years to come shall here sit for instruction be as usefully and happily spent as were ours.
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JUDGE CONNER.
Judge John S. Conner, of Cincinnati, Ohio, followed: Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen:
It is with mingled feelings of embarrassment and pleas- ure that I attempt to say a few words at this gathering in honor of the old Academy, because I feel that I am a stranger to nearly all here, and yet I feel that I am a stranger among friends; and I am very glad to be present with you, and to pay my grateful tribute upon this occasion.
My coming to Peacham was by merest chance; one of those fortunate happenings, unforeseen, but changing the whole course of a life; for I feel that the coming to this school and being surrounded by its influence, and the moral and intel- lectual atmosphere of this town and people, had much to do with the moulding and shaping of my life. And I also have feelings of grateful recollection of Peacham, as the home for some years of my good mother (when our Southern home was desolated by war, and circumstances temporarily prevented the occupancy of our Western home), and of the many kind- nesses shown her by its people.
Coming to the Academy, as I did, from the schools in Cincinnati, I, for the first time, learned the true nature and lasting benefits of education. I had always been "sent to school." I never before "went to school." I had looked upon getting an education as one of those disagreeable necessities, provided by good parents for the proper bringing up of their children, a duty to be performed by the children willingly, or unwillingly; and the sooner it was over the quicker came the freedom to engage in the active pursuits of life. I did not know that education was something to be earnestly de- sired, assiduously to be worked for, and never to be underesti- mated; in short, to be the guiding and controlling force of life. But when, as a boy of about seventeen, I was thrown into companionship and competition with the earnest boys and girls in this Academy, who knew what an education meant, and what it was, and were determined to have it, many making great sacrifices therefor, then it dawned upon me that coming to school was infinitely different from being sent there. And thanks to the intellectual atmosphere of the Academy, the earnestness of the scholars and the patient, careful, attention and teachings of Mr. Chas. O. Thompson, that peerless in- structor and kindest of men and friends, I, too, became imbued with a sense of the greatness and desirability of education.
I have said it was but a chance that brought me to Peach- am. I had been very desirous of going into the army at the breaking out of the war, and had drilled for a few nights with some of the troops, when my mother concluded that it was wis- est to send me at once East to my brother; and when I was there, the family council decided I should be sent to college, after a preparatory course under my brother's classmate, Mr.
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Thompson, and hence I was sent to Peacham, whose location was utterly unknown to me, except that it was somewheres in Vermont and up towards Canada, far away from the scenes of war. And so I came here and it was truly a turning point in my life.
I shall never forget that long ride up from Barnet; and as we came up, and up, and up, it seemed to me we would never reach the top of these hills; and when I got here I was sure I had never been so near heaven before. I arrived, I think, on Saturday night, and went to my quarters on the hill at Miss Bradley's, that nice, prim old lady, whom I shall never forget. The next day I was taken in charge by her and taken to church, and, to my horror and dismay, I was led up to the end of the aisle, and then along the end pews to one immedi- ately under "the drippings and droppings of the Sanctuary," and where I had not only to be so near the preacher, but also to face all the people. It was a very trying experience for one who at home always sat near the door, where it was easy to slip out if the services were uninteresting. I told her that I really could not sit in so prominent a place thereafter, but would get a seat near the door. But I soon learned that it was not the thing in Peacham to slip out of church, but was the thing to go regularly; another important and lasting les- son that I learned here. The teachings in this old Academy were of that thorough nature that made lasting impressions and moulded character. In addition to sound instruction in all the higher branches of education, we were taught those eternal principles of religion, morality and temperance, that go to make true men and women, and taught us to do our full duty, wherever we were to live. To me the days spent here were of lasting influence and great benefit. Next to the teach- ings and memory of my sainted mother, the influence of this Academy and Dartmouth College have gone through and shaped my life.
REV. HENRY M. SHAW.
Rev. Henry H. Shaw, of Marlboro, Vt., said:
It is my privilege to speak a word for those who, to-day scattered worldwide in all the duties of life, were the boys and girls, the pupils in the old Academy, in those far-off days of the much loved Thompson and Watts of sainted memory. Fewer, perchance, are present to greet us in these scenes of cheer, from that period in the history of the Academy, than from other periods of even an earlier date. Not that they are less loyal to the memory of the Academy, or grateful to the noble men and women by whose wisdom they were guided, or through whose influence they were moulded in character, than others; they are loyal, loyal to all the interests of this time-honored institution, and proud of the record of the grand old town in which it is located.
Many went out from the Academy in those days only to lay their lives on the altar of country, a willing sacrifice to
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freedom and right. Others, from the quiet scenes of home, serving well their day and generation, have gone out from us and we meet them not again. Of all these it were a pleasing yet sad privilege to speak. Many, too, in the service of truth and the church are spending and being spent, both in the home-land and on foreign shores, whose first inspiration was in the instruction of the church and the training of the school in those days of which I speak. We recall them one and all; and yet a generation has passed since, as boys and girls, we went from these halls to take our part in the world's fierce strife.
To-day we come to renew the memory of those days in which we gathered here for study, joined in the sports of school-life, or put in shade the eloquence of Demosthenes as we took our part on the academic stage or in the debates of the lyceum. Fond memories of the past, never to be forgotten! revered instructors, in our hearts we hold you still. From our memories you go not out till we, too, "cross the narrow river."
Dear old Academy, grand in all the record of the past; in lives of sons and daughters true, bright be thy coming years in noble deeds well done, in souls made mete for life's great work! Be thy daughters beautiful and fair, thy sons manly and strong, as are the rock ribbed hills around thee! Thus pass thy years till thy work is done!
MRS. HUNT'S TRIBUTE TO PRINCIPAL THOMPSON.
Mrs. M. C. Hunt read a tribute to Prin. Thompson. Follow- ing is her tribute:
We are told that hero worship is of the past, gone with the lost arts. But this is not true, nor should it be so. We have no other criterion by which to form our standards of life and character, except the prominent personalities of history and of our acquaintance, the heroes of the past and of our own times.
Far away and evil will be the day when the names of Grant and Sherman will cease to be revered as the highest ideals of the citizen soldier; or those of Washington and Lin- coln be robbed of the halo of Christian statesmanship with which they are to-day encircled.
The same principle holds true in the narrower field of our own experience. Those conspicuous personalities of our acquaintance which seem to have had the greatest influence in cutlivating our tastes, ennobling our ideals, and so, in mould- ing our characters, will naturally and of right become our heroes and command our homage. Of such is the subject of this sketch.
Forty years ago this almost present autumn there came to us from the classic halls of Dartmouth a young undergrad- uate, a youth of only 19 years. to take the helm in this, even then, old and respected institution. Handsome, alert, digni- fied, suave, he captivated our fancy at the first meeting; and
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eight years of the intimate relations of teacher and pupil, or the free unconventional social life of a country village, only served to ripen this feeling into the one of affectionate respect with which he became and is still regarded by every one of those fortunate souls who are to-day alumni of that halcyon decade, '57 to '67.
Coming of the bluest of Puritan stock, his father a learned professor in a New England theological school, his mother a woman of rare breadth and force of character, in a com- munity in which breadth and force were the rule rather than the exception; he imbibed with his home training a conserva- tism of the highest type; while his hearty, enthusiastic na- ture made him an earnest sympathizer with all that was best in the advanced order which at that time was beginning to as- sume control in the realms of thought and in practical affairs.
With the keenest possible sense of humor he never for a moment forgot that humor was neither vulgarity nor cruelty. Sarcasm was a weapon he never wielded. With a cordiality toward all his pupils closely approaching good fellowship, his bearing was such that no pupil was ever known to presume upon a familiarity.
His scholarship, though at that time only of books and schools, was of a thoroughness and finish which left nothing to be desired even for the preceptor of Caledonia County Gram- mar School.
His Christianity was above criticism, whether measured by the standard of the theologian or the record of a devoted and blameless life.
But perhaps his most notable characteristic was his cour- ageous and unswerving manliness and devotion to truth and right, regardless of consequences to himself or his ambitions. During the whole of his sojourn here, no petty jealousy ever ruffled the serenity of his demeanor, no calumny ever attempt- ed a blot upon his spotless name. His high standard of man- hood and womanhood he did his utmost with skill, and in a kindly manner, to instil into the minds and hearts of those who were so fortunate as to come within the circle of his in- fluence. And many a man and woman, who were boys and girls 40 years ago, owe whatever inspiration which may have led them to purer, nobler and higher lives to the influence of those teachings. And when the time came that he left us, called to a higher plane of action and a broader field of use- fulness, whether in his chosen calling as instructor of youth, at conservative and cultured Arlington; as pioneer, in the new and advanced technical education, at Worcester; as original investigator in his favorite specialty of expert chemist; or in his last and most notable work, the organization of the great Rose Polytechnic Institute at Terre Haute, in whose service he sacrificed his life in the very prime and vigor of his glori- ous manhood; every step was one in advance, and the same feeling of respect and affection from his associates, which he inspired here, followed him everywhere to the end.
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Is it any wonder then those of us who knew and loved such a man in his youth, his developing and developed man- hood, should inscribe in letters of gold upon the tablets of our memories: In honor of Charles Oliver Thompson, the ripe scholar, the wise councilor, the genial comrade, the loyal friend, the high-toned Christian gentleman.
DR. WARDEN'S REMARKS.
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