USA > Vermont > Windsor County > Windsor > The centennial at Windsor, Vermont, July 4, 1876 : being a record of the proceedings at the celebration; and containing the address and poem then delivered; also a view of Windsor as it now is > Part 4
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Schools rose with the town, as they did everywhere in Ver- mont, - public schools, and private schools of higher grade. I know my own memories - that as early as 1820 I was in Capt. Dunham's famous school, - that in this school were pupils from Georgia, and from the frontier military post of the far-off Detroit, - and that among the pupils were the late eminent Chief Justice Bellows of New Hampshire, and one of our own townsmen of whom we are proud, the distinguished chemist, Augustus A. Hayes. Here, likewise, had been taught a little earlier than this the late Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase, who was a Cornish boy. To this school came young ladies of aristocratie connections, whom my dim recollection recalls in images of stately beauty. At Pres- ident Monroe's visit to Windsor, they shared in the honors of the reception. The school was the pride of the town, and when Capt. Dunham closed it to transfer himself to Lexington, Kentucky, a glory departed from among us.
* The Hon. William M. Evarts and E. W. Stoughton, Esq., of New York. Mr. Evarts delivered the Centennial Fourth of July Oration in Philadelphia.
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The newspaper press belongs to the intellectual life of Wind- sor. Coeval with its history, it has always been respectable and influential. In 1812 it gave an editor, Sylvester Churchill, to the army, and from Lieutenant he rose, by merited promotions, to the rank of Brigadier General, winning his last promotion at Buena Vista, and performing his last service, in extreme old age, in the mustering in of the 75,000 troops summoned first by Presi- dent Lincoln .*
These rapid historical references, imperfect at best, would be essentially lacking, if they embraced no allusion to mechanical and agricultural industry. Here in early times lived and worked Martin Cheney, famous here and famous in Canada for near a half century, whose clocks were the pride of Vermont households, and to-day are precious heir-looms. Some of them told, not only the hours, but the days of the month and the changes of the moon,- and some of them had musical accompaniments, with a tune for each day of the week, piously inclined to a meditative air on Saturdays, playing St. Mary's on Sundays, but at Sunday midnight, as if impatient at so long restraint, starting of in joy- ous glee with "Over the water to Charlie." Superior cabinet work was executed here, and when church-organs were little used in country towns, very nearly or quite fifty years ago, two of your churches, the Episcopal and the Baptist, had organs built in this town by Mr. Hedge. Farms tell their own story, and it is a vindication of the agriculture of the successive generations that the farms of the town have improved with the lapse of time. Nine years ago, with an elder brother, I visited Windsor that we might look once more on the scenes of our boyhood. We ascend- ed the interior hills of the town ( for Windsor and West Windsor
* The first newspaper of the town, and the first permanently established newspaper of the State, was the Vermont Journal. Simeon Ide, Esq., pres- ent at this festival, in advanced age, became apprenticed to Farnsworth & Churchill, in the office of the Vermont Republican, in 1800. Arriving at manhood ho purchased the paper, and added to its original title that of American Yeoman, brought with a paper of that name from Brattleboro. The Vermont Republican and American Yeoman was conducted by him with ability and honor for many years. The Washingtonian was a Federalist paper, edited by Capt. Dunham at about the time of the war of 1812. The Vermont Chronicle, a religious journal of high character, was publish- ed for long a period at Windsor,
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were all one to our memory and our love), and threaded the interior valleys. A soft sun-shine was on the landscape, and refreshing breezes played over woods and fields. Everywhere we met signs of improved agriculture, of thrift and comfort, of contented and prosperous industry. It seemed as if the peace of God had come down to dwell in the habitations of men.
How many memories of Windsor characters now crowd upon my mind, and ask for records which I have no space to give. How the men reappear who walked these streets more than fifty years ago and impressed the imagination of my boyhood, - General Curtis, restless, eager man of affairs, - General Forbes, whose quiet, natural dignity led every man that met him to give him the walk,-John Leverett, gentleman and scholar, whose old-fashioned coach, opening at the rear, brought, every Sunday, the family to church, leaving him and one or two daughters at the Baptist, and depositing Mrs. Leverett and the rest at the Old South, - Judge Hubbard, whose thoughtful face told the world of law he carried in his head,-Dea. Coolidge, grave, sagacious and honored citizen, -Dr. Isaac Green, who dispensed prudential maxims with his heal- ing drugs, - Captains Lord and Ingersoll, the one a sturdy and bluff, the other an urbane and polished sailor,- Judge Hunter, in whom it did not require the eye of a grandchild to see a serene and majestic nature. Drs. Trask and Torrey belonged to this class of elder and old men,- a class which might include other names as well. Horace Everett, Asa Aikens, Carlos Coolidge, Frederic and John Pettes, Shubael and Allen Wardner, the latter your patriarch to-day, the others all dead, were in their vigor or prime. Edward and George Curtis, William Guy Hunter, Charles Forbes, Isaac Watts Hubbard, Francis E. Phelps, Simeon Ide, the last, in old age, honoring us with his presence at this hour, the rest nearly all departed, were younger or young men. Some of them were wits who made Windsor resound with their humor. Edwin Edgerton had just come to town from Dartmouth; Thomas S. Fullerton and Albert G. Hatch came a little later. All were well-known Wind- sor characters ;- and how easy to extend the list. How, too, events come to my memory,- the burning of the old Tontine in 1818, and the solemn patrol of the village when incendiaries were about. A recollection more agreeable than that of these conflagrations is the visit of La Fayette in 1825. Near the Cornish bridge I stood by the side of the barouche in which he entered Vermont, when
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Col. Jesse Lull, the most courtly man in Windsor, mounted on a bay horse, gave him a welcome, and then, leading the escort, brought him through thronging multitudes to the balcony of Pet- tes' Coffee House, and, in the sight of the great crowd, presented him to Cornelius P. Van Ness, Governor of the State, who had come from Burlington to receive him .- But I must not run the risk of wearying you with personal recollections which have their interest for a few only who linger from departed generations.
The military history of Windsor belongs among the essential themes of this day. I could wish my knowledge of it more com- plete. The fame of Seth Warner's regiment was shared by men of this town. After the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, after the capture of Ticonderoga by Allen, Capt. John Grant of - that regiment came in the summer of 1775 to Windsor for recruits. Among those who enlisted under him were Asahel Smith, John Heath, Zenas Lull, Joshua Slayton, and William Hunter, the last named enlisting as sergeant, and becoming the orderly of the company. Laying down their sickles, - for an old narrative says it was "reaping time,"- they proceeded to join their regiment at Crown Point, and, descending the Lake to Canada, took part in the brilliant operations which resulted in the capture of St. Johns and Montreal, and in the flight of Carlton to Quebec. Young Hun- ter, then twenty-one years of age, was attached to the person of General Montgomery, and for his good conduct at the siege of St. Johns, received a commission as first Lieutenant. The time for which the men had enlisted having expired, Hunter came back to . Windsor in December of that year for more recruits. There were already militia companies in the town, and there is a record of the drill of one of them by Lieutenant Hunter after his return at that time. His mission was successful. Early in January, 1776, on the broad castern slope of " the Hill" of the West Parish, where to-day green fields smile under the summer-sun, the snow was lying deep. There, at the house of Samuel Root, Hunter mustered his recruits, of whom are preserved the names of Eben- ezer Hoisington, Phincas Killam, John Heath, Joel Butler, Asa Smead, Jonathan Hodgman, and "an elderly man named Em- mons." These, with perhaps as many more, he marched away on snow-shoes to Skeensborough, now Whitehall, whence, descending the Lake on the ice, they reached the army destined to Quebec, and finally encamped on the Plains of Abraham. In the dis-
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astrous retreat of the ensuing spring, Warner's regiment was the last on the field, and kept the rear. It was on this retreat that Lieutenant Hunter, discovering a sick Cornish soldier who had laid down to die, inspired with hope the despairing man's heart, and, lifting him on his back, carried him three miles to the bat- eaux and saved his life. During the remainder of the war the military of Windsor were perpetually on the alert, and were fre- quently called into service. Under Capt. Benjamin Wait and Major Joab Hoisington, they were of the troops who kept back the English and Indians from the northern towns, and when Roy- alton was attacked and burned, marched in such numbers to repel and punish the invasion, that most of the women of Windsor, left unprotected, fled with their children to Cornish " until the return of the men." Declining a captaincy in the Continental service, Hunter became Lieutenant of the Windsor company, under Capt. Samuel Stow Savage, and succeeded him as Captain in the year 1789.
In the war of 1812 this town contributed its share of officers and men to the armies who fought our battles. Churchill, already referred to, and Matthew Patrick remained in the public service to the end of their lives. A few veterans of that war remain to this day to have their fitting recognition by an appropriate place in our festivities.
The Jefferson Artillery, significant, politically, by its name, came into being in 1810, amid the omens of the coming war. Its organization was not, however, complete till the ensuing year. William Tileston was its first captain. My father's commission as Lieutenant bears the date of 1811. About 1820 there were four companies in the town, one of artillery, one of light-infantry and two ununiformed, reproachfully termed " floodwood." Harry White was one of the village captains, as was, likewise, David Smith, the brilliant and popular merchant whom Windsor lost by a sudden calamity ;- Capt. Back, commanded the light-infantry of the West Parish. Training days were holidays, and General Musters were great events. The boys caught the military infec- tion of the time, and under the command of John A. Spooner, now a venerable and honored clergyman, marched beneath a ban- ner which bore a patriotic and impressive legend.
That Windsor was true to her historic principles and renown in the late struggle which saved the Union, and gave us a country
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unstained by slavery, is fresh within your knowledge, and eulogy from one so unfamiliar as myself with your later history, would for that reason be inadequate and unsatisfactory. Your sons and brothers went forth to fall as heroes fall, or to return to be held in honor as you crown them with honors to-day. They are here to the number of fifty, with their battle-fields inscribed on their banners,- here bearing the marks of honorable wounds, their names household words in the families of Windsor, and the remembrance of their valor one of the sacred treasures which we commit to the keeping of a grateful posterity. Among the sons of Windsor meriting special honor was one,* who, educated at West Point, had retired from military service, and at the breaking out of the Rebellion was teaching in a Mississippi College. The heart of Windsor beat in his breast, the blood of Windsor was in his own veins and in the veins of his children, and fighting his way through difficulties grave and perilous, he came back to his post in the army to render service which his townsmen delight to honor.
And this allusion to the war of the Rebellion justifies an allu- sion to the political principles and the social questions out of which it sprung. It was in our own town, in the year 1799, that the legislature of Vermont, in response to the legislatures of Vir- ginia and Kentucky, repelled the doctrines of nullification and secession, by the identical arguments by which, thirty years later, Webster replied to Hayne in the Senate of the United States, and by which, after another thirty years, the Federal Government affirmed its majesty on the bloody fields of the civil war. One of the earliest judges of Vermont, the eccentric. Harrington, had de- manded " a bill of sale signed in the handwriting of the Almighty himself," as the only evidence of title on which he would restore a fugitive slave, and in all their history down to the sundering of the last chain, the sons of Windsor and the sons of Vermont have been as true to the freedom of all men as the stars to their courses.
But I must pursue these grateful themes no longer. The past is past. The dead sleep in their graves, and time moves on. We follow in their steps, and transmit to our children the inheritance which has come down to us. Change succeeds change, the present
* Major Edward C. Boynton.
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perpetually holding in itself and sowing the seeds of the future. One hundred years ago our ancestors were clad chiefly in the wool and linen of their own flocks and fields. Exports of pot-ash, of timber, and of their surplus agricultural products, brought back the foreign conveniences and luxuries, few in number, in which they indulged. Even fifty years ago the traveller through Ver- mont, climbing our hills or winding our valleys by stage-coach, heard at every farm-house, in the summer and autumnal months, the whirl of the spindle and the click of the loom. The domestic spindle and loom have passed away as effectually as the stage- coach. It remains to be seen what shall be the influence of the new civilization on the production of men and women. We are in the midst of the world's great experiment. Amédée Thierry * tells us that in proportion as Greece and Rome taught and felt the higher spiritual philosophy of Plato and his disciples, which recognizes and exalts the inner life of man, manners were pu- fied and civilization was strong, and that, in proportion as the philosophy which found its principles and aims in external con- ditions prevailed, manners were corrupted and civilization fell. Our dangers, social and political, are the dangers which come from similar sources, from luxury, and from the corruption which luxury breeds. Be it ours to cling to that Divine Faith which ennobles the human soul by its redemption by Jesus Christ, and to the philosophy and the education which have their grounds and motives in the nature, the duties and destinies of man immor- tal. These are the foundations of an imperishable Republic, - a republic which exists not for office-holders and patronage, but to maintain for its citizens the liberty of thought, of worship, of in- dustry and of commerce, in the established harmony of equal rights, guarded by equal laws. It is not safe to predict the growth and glory of the future. The Abbe Raynal, writing while our Revolution was still in progress, and forecasting in a friendly spir- it the destiny of our country, did not anticipate a possible increase of our population beyond ten millions, t nor any large attainments of power or wealth. We are now more than forty millions, and `deem ourselves in the infancy of our development. To calculate
* Tableau de l'Empire Romain.
+ Si dix millions d'hommes trouvent jamais une subsistence assurée dars ces provinces, ce sera beaucoup .- Révolution de l'Amerique, p. 169.
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upon such a ratio of progress in population and wealth for another century is to suppose the preservation and increase of intelligence, religion and virtue. The subsistence of great populations, and the strength and glory of great empires, proceed from the inner life of men and women, and are possible only to the presence and control of superior intellectual and moral culture. To that vast future whose dim haze will not lift to our vision, we commit with hope our posterity, because we believe in God, in the univer- sality of his laws, and in the benignancy of his purposes. One hundred years from to-day we shall sleep with our fathers. But the sun on that morning will come up as now over the Cornish hills, tinging first with his soft light the brow of Ascutney, and then bathing meadows, groves, and fields with his advancing glo- ries. May he shine on our children's children ripened in all knowledge and virtue, the shield of Vermont still resplendent with accumulating honors, the Republic still one, the fortress of freedom, and the hope of the world.
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POEM.
BI SOLON MORRISON, ESQ.
NE-FOURTH a century's course has run, Since, gazing on the setting sun, With tearful eye, and throbbing heart, I did from Windsor last depart. One-fourth the circling years, that swell The deeds your nation now can tell, Have winged their way through heaven's abyss, And now divide that day from this. How great the change to mortal man ! How wide the gulf these years do span ! Sure 'tis a dream, I am asleep, Or, if awake,'O, I must weep! Yes, 'tis a dream, and confused thoughts Come coursing on in motley lots. I see the ghosts of fleeting years ! I see them stare to raise my fears ! I hear the bells now tolling nigh, And see the hearse go slowly by ; And sorrowing friends, with measured tread,
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Now silent move behind their dead. Hark ! 'tis the chimes on Notre-Dame! I've heard them oft, the same, the same ; Strains of sweet music fill the air, And bands of priests and nuns go there ; And coming here in eddying whirls, Are troops of little boys and girls ; And now the cannon's booming roar, Starts me from sleep, I dream no more.
Yes, I'm awake, and this is I, But, as I came, you passed me by ; Though now, along your busy streets, I see how friend with friend here meets. None gave to me the out stretched hand, And here alone, alone I stand. If in a foreign land I were, And unknown accents met my ear, Then I could stand, without surprise, The vacant gaze of strangers' eyes ; But in one's uative place to be, And no familiar face to see, This sure is sad, and in my grief, A tear may fall to give relief.
Where are all those I knew full well ? Whose every name I once could tell ! Where's Jones and Kelley, Hunter, West, And Clark and Wardner and the rest ? " Where's Jones ! oh, Jones, he's far away, But where he is we cannot say ; Ah, yes ! but can it be 'Twas bounding o'er the billowy sea ? Or went he towards the westering sun, Where fortunes oft are lost and won ?" Sees he to-day the light of heaven ? And breathes the life to mortals given ? Or has he long since passed away ? You do not know, and cannot say. And do you know where Kelley went, Where he has, thus far, his life spent ? "Yes, Kelley, he became a priest, And is, to day, somewhere down East ;
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In stately church he high masa reads, And says his prayers, and counts his beads ; Sweet incense on his altar burns, And when unto his flock he turns, Assembled round him, silent, dumb, He chants ' Dominus vobiscum.'"
Now where is Hunter, where went be ? Lives he on land or on the sea ? "Now let us think - we this can state, Hunter became an advocate ; He learned to twist and turn the laws, And find them sound, or full of flaws ; To prove that four and three were eight, That turning oft was going straight, To make a witness tell a lie, And swear an elephant could fly. Being armed with this supernal grace, He found in Government a place ; Since that he fares - well, like the rest, Lives fast and has the very best." And where has Clark gone, did you say ? " You'll see him here this very day ; In fact he's here now on this spot,
'Tis plain 'tis he, now, is it not ?" Well, since you say that's surely he, Then Doctor Clark that sure must be. But now comes up the strangest thought Of all that's to my mind been brought ; To look on one that I once knew, To gaze, and look, and stare him through ; And then not know who he can be, Though in his looks I partly see The old friend lost, but so combined With some one else, I cannot find Where ends the old, or where begins The friend that claims they both are twins. And as we talk, it seems to me, I might at any moment see The old friend come, with out-streched band, And ask the new aside to stand. So here I am a little mixed, By my two friends I stand betwixt ;
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And if there should dispute arise, I must, of course, apologize. . Still further does this same thought go, If my old friend has changed so, How have these years, with onward tread, Passed o'er my own devoted head ? As I came here I vainly thought In all these years I'd changed not ; But now, alas! I must agree, That they have quite as much changed me.
But let me go now on your street, Some old, familiar face to meet. My shoes are worn, so let me stop At Mansfields' well-remembered shop. " At Mansfields' shop ! you sure forget - The Mansfields long since paid the debt To Nature due ; and you'll now find But few who have them yet in mind."
Well, then I'll look for something more ; 'Tis in I. W. Hubbard's store I've pounds of tea and coffee bought ; He's square and honest, and will not Cheat one in weight, or give bad goods, As others do in tricking moods ; Besides, he's pleasant and polite, And say whatever thing you might, Against his price, against his wares, He always smilingly declares, " The price is low, the goods are fine, If you don't like them they're still mine." " But Hubbard long since laid his head In yonder church-yard, with the dead!" Still on I'll go, for I must find Some that I have now in my mind. I wish to look your statutes o'er, That were in force here long before Your day or mine, as I've been told Strange laws were made in days of old ; And Carlos Coolidge has them all. So at his office let us call.
I see, to-day, his stately tread, And hear, if anything he said,
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The measured accents of his voice, His exact speech and words of choice ; And I have seen, and taken note, The firm round hand in which he wrote. " But summer's suns have blazed in heaven, And winter's frosts the rocks have riven, Since he has passed from life away, Through death, unto the perfect day."
Well, this seems strange, but on I'll go,- There are more yet I used to know ; . One more I sure might call upon, - The Rev. Mr. Hutchinson. On many a bright, warm sabbath's morn, When fragrance on the winds was borne ; On stormy winter's blustering days, When snows blocked up the drifted ways ; At eventide, when in the breeze The angels whispered 'mong the trees ; At all these times, in earnest speech, In yonder church I've heard him preach. His deep convictions of the right Gave to his words a cutting might ; And when he raised his voice in prayer, O, then was mighty influence there ! And when his wants and thanks were given, " Our Father who art in high Heaven," In solemn accents from him fell In tones few voices ever swell. " When this mortal shall immortal be, And thou, as thou art seen, canst see, Then shalt thou, with the spirit's eyes, See him ye seek, beyond the skies."
But now I see, in long array, The many others passed away, Since last along these streets I went, And towards the north my footsteps bent. There's Price, the lawyer, smart and young, With nimble step and practised tongue ; And Merrifield, whose moderate speech The words divided each from each ; And John P. Skinner's full, round face I'd recognize in any place ; 4
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And Shubael Wardner, who, with joking, Would sell you tea, and wine and cloaking ; And others yet crowd thick and fast On memory's page, and hurry past. "Like as the grass or fading flower, So is man's strength ; its failing power, The passing winds, as they go o'er, Bear far away -'tis known no more."
Now go with me along this road, Whose winding course I have not trod Since years before these whitening hairs Their color changed, through many cares ; Since years before my failing sight Required this aid to make it right. Go with me now out 'mong the hills, Whose presence all my being thrills. They stand unchanged through changing years, And whatsoever be our fears That friends may die, or, living, turn, And from their presence us should spurn, The hills change not ; them I salute With salutation silent, mute. Go with me then, and you shall see The bleak, high hill, where used to be My childhood's home ; there stands, to-day, The long, old house, gone io decay ; The winds sweep through the empty rooms, To which no footstep ever comes ; At moro, or night, or mid-day hour, No curling smoke is seen to tower Above the square, old chimney top ; And if 'till evening we should stop, Then we should see no friendly light To cheer the gloominess of night.
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