BOSTON TO ALBANY.
First Day.
_South Framingham House_,
SOUTH FRAMINGHAM, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May 9, 1876_.
The initial step in my journey from Ocean to Ocean was taken at ten
o'clock on the morning of the above date when I mounted my horse in
front of the Revere House, Boston, and started for Worcester, where it
had been announced I would lecture on the following evening. The Revere
House was fixed upon by comrades of the G. A. R. as a rendezvous before
starting. Here I found a large gathering of the Order. A rain storm
setting in as I put my foot into the stirrup, hasty adieus were said to
the Boys in Blue and others as I was about riding away from the
"Revere."
I was escorted to Bunker Hill and thence to Brighton by many comrades
and friends, among them Colonels John F. Finley and E. A. Williston, who
were mounted; and Captain Charles W. Thompson, adjutant-general
Department of Massachusetts; Captain Theodore L. Kelly, commander of
Post 15; Grafton Fenno, adjutant, Post 7, G. A. R., and many others in
carriages.
Our route from Boston was by way of Charlestown and Cambridge to
Brighton. A short halt was made at Bunker Hill. After a hurried look at
the Monument we rode around it and then headed for Brighton. The rain
was now falling in torrents and quickening our pace we passed rapidly
through Cambridge, glancing hastily at the University Buildings as we
galloped down the main thoroughfare of the city.
Brighton was reached between twelve and one o'clock. Owing to the storm
our short journey to this place was anything but agreeable and when we
dismounted at the Cattle Fair Hotel all who were not in covered
conveyances were drenched to the skin. Here the entire party had dinner,
after which I took leave of my friendly escort, who one and all took me
by the hand and wished me Godspeed.
Pushing on through Newton and some smaller towns and villages I pulled
up in front of the South Framingham House a few minutes after five
o'clock in the evening. My clothing was thoroughly soaked and my cavalry
boots filled to overflowing. Having secured accommodations for the
night, _Paul_ was fed and groomed; clothing and equipments hung up to
dry and the first day of my long ride from sea to sea was off the
calendar.
[Illustration: RIDING THROUGH CAMBRIDGE.]
Second Day.
_Bay State House_,
WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Tenth_.
I slept soundly at the South Framingham House and was up and out to the
hotel stable at an early hour in the morning. I found _Paul Revere_, my
equine companion, in good spirits and fancied that the significant look
he gave me was an assurance that he would be ready for the road when
called for.
After a hearty breakfast and a few questions concerning the beautiful
little city in which I had spent the first night of my journey, I
mounted _Paul_ and rode out towards the Boston and Albany Turnpike.
Being impressed with the appearance and enterprise of the place, while
passing through some of its streets especial inquiry was made concerning
its population, schools and industries. I learned that South Framingham
is twenty-one miles from Boston, at the junction of the Boston and
Albany and Old Colony Railways. Its population at that time was about
10,000. Its graded schools are among the first in the State. It supports
several banks and newspapers and is engaged in the manufacture of
woollens, rubber goods, boots and shoes, harness and machinery.
The ride from South Framingham to Worcester was uneventful if I except
the pelting rain which from drizzle to down-pour followed me from start
to finish. Indeed, it really seemed as though the first days of my
journey were to be baptismal days and I regret exceedingly that these
early stages of the trip were not more propitious; for, had the weather
been less disagreeable, I should have seen Eastern Massachusetts under
much more favorable circumstances.
The city limits of Worcester were reached at four o'clock in the
afternoon and a half hour later I was registered at the Bay State House.
Many relatives called upon me here, most of whom were residents of the
city and vicinity. Lectured at the Opera House in the evening, being
introduced to my audience by Colonel Finley of Charlestown, to whom
previous reference has been made, and with whom I had arranged to
accompany me as far as Syracuse, New York, and further if my advance
agents should think it advisable for him to do so.
The fact that both my father and mother were natives of Worcester County
and that most of our ancestors for several generations had been
residents of Worcester and vicinity made that city of unusual interest
to me, and I trust the reader will be indulgent if I allot too much
space or seem too partial in my description of this early landmark in my
journey.
Worcester, nestling among the hills along the Blackstone River, the
second city in Massachusetts, the heart of the Commonwealth, has a
population of about 85,000.
Shut in by its wall of hills, it seemed, as I first came into it,
something like a little miniature world in itself. It possesses some
share of all the good we know. Nature, that "comely mother," has laid
her caressing hand upon it. Art has made many a beautiful structure to
adorn its streets. Commerce smiles upon it. While its wonderful
manufactures seem to form a great living, throbbing heart for the
city.
[Illustration: VIEW IN WORCESTER MASSACHUSETTS.]
Sauntering up from the depot, through Front street, five minutes' walk
brought me to the Old Common. There I found, what one so frequently
finds in Massachusetts towns and cities--namely, a War Monument.
Apparently that mighty five years' struggle, that brilliant victory,
bringing freedom to two million fellow-creatures, bringing power,
union, glory to the nation, has burned itself into the very heart of the
Old Bay State; and lest posterity might forget the lessons she learned
from 1861 to 1865, everywhere she has planted her war monuments, to
remind her children that
"Simple duty has no place for fear."
In the shade of Worcester Common is another object of interest. A little
plot of ground, wherein stands a grand old tomb. It is the resting-place
of Timothy Bigelow, the early patriot of Worcester. Here in the sunshine
and the twilight, in the bloom of summer, and under the soft falling
snows of winter, he perpetually manifests to the world
"How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest."
A sturdy old New Englander was Colonel Bigelow. "When the news of the
destruction of the tea in Boston Harbor reached him, he was at work in
his blacksmith shop, near the spot now called Lincoln Square. He
immediately laid aside his tools, proceeded directly to his house,
opened the closet, and took from it a canister of tea, went to the
fire-place, and poured the contents into the flames. As if feeling that
everything which had come in contact with British legislative tyranny
should be purified by fire, the canister followed the tea; and then he
covered both with coals.
"Before noon on the nineteenth of April, 1775, an express came to town,
shouting, as he passed through the street at full speed, 'To arms! to
arms!--the war's begun.' His white horse, bloody with spurring, and
dripping with sweat, fell exhausted by the church. Another was instantly
procured, and the tidings went on. The bell rang out the alarm, cannon
were fired, and messengers were sent to every part of the town to
collect the soldiery. As the news spread, the implements of husbandry
were thrown by in the field; and the citizens left their homes, with no
longer delay than to seize their arms. In a short time, the 'minute-men'
were paraded on the green, under Captain Timothy Bigelow. After fervent
prayer by Rev. Mr. Maccarty, they took up their line of march to the
scene of conflict." Such was Bigelow's zeal and ardor in the great cause
of the times, that he appeared on the following morning, at the head of
his "minute-men," in the square at Watertown, having marched them there,
a distance of over thirty miles, during that one short night.
On the nineteenth of April, 1861, the Bigelow Monument was dedicated. At
the very hour of the consecration exercises, the Massachusetts Sixth
Regiment was engaged in its memorable struggle and triumphant passage
through the blockaded streets of Baltimore at the beginning of the Civil
War.
[Illustration: A NEW ENGLAND PAPER MILL.]
Along the west side of the Old Common runs Main street, just out of
which, in Pearl street, is the Post Office. I have seen a curious
computation with regard to that Post Office development, which aptly
illustrates the rapid growth of Worcester. The number of letters sent
out in 1809 was about 4,400. The number of letters taken out fifty years
later was 523,808. Main street reaches Lincoln Square, where stand the
two court houses. The old one has been removed a few feet, and
refitted. In it the criminal courts are held; there too are the offices
of the court of probate and insolvency.
The New Court House was built in 1845 of Quincy granite, at a cost of
about one hundred thousand dollars. In it the civil terms of the courts
are held, with numerous ante-rooms for the jurors and for consultation.
The lower floor is occupied by the office of the register of deeds, and
by the clerk's and treasurer's offices.
Close neighbor to the court houses is the building containing the rooms
of the American Antiquarian Society, one of the leading learned bodies
of our country. It was founded in 1812. It possesses a very valuable
library, especially rich on subjects of local interest to Americans. The
newspapers filed here include over four thousand volumes, beginning with
the Boston _News Letter_ of 1804, and closing with the great journals of
to-day. This same society also possesses a very interesting collection
of pre-historic American relics.
In Lincoln Square stands the old Salisbury mansion, an interesting
specimen of a colonial house, which has been standing a century or so,
since the time when those substantial buildings, with their wide halls,
high ceilings, and strong walls, were built on honor. There it has stood
in its dignity, more flimsy, more showy architecture springing up around
it, until now the _fin de siecle_ eye discovers that nothing is more to
be desired than one of these same sturdy old colonial houses.
Main street contains many churches. On it is the large, ugly-looking,
but justly celebrated, Clark University, which is devoted to scientific
research, with its wonderfully equipped chemical laboratory.
Any one who wants a bird's-eye view of Worcester and its environments,
can easily have it by strolling out Highland street to Newton Hill. It
is only about a mile from Lincoln Park, but it is six hundred and
seventy feet above the sea level, and from it "the whole world, and the
glory thereof," seems spread out at one's feet.
On Salisbury street, one mile from the square, stands the house in which
George Bancroft, the historian, dear to American hearts, was born.
A mile and a half from the square, on Salisbury Pond, are located the
famous Wire Works of Washburn and Moen.
There are many buildings to interest the visitor in Worcester. The State
Lunatic Asylum, with its one thousand patients; the free Public Library
on Elm street, containing eighty thousand volumes; the High School on
Walnut street; the Museum of the National Historical Society, on Foster
street; All Saint's Church; the Polytechnic Institute; the College of
the Holy Cross, six hundred and ninety feet above the sea, and many
another place of interest, calling on the passers-by to look, and learn
of the world's advancement.
Standing on one of the heights overlooking the little river, the
surrounding hills, the busy city, throbbing with its many manufactories,
it seemed to me I had before my eyes an object lesson of the wonderful
resources, the vim, the power of making "all things work together for
good," which I take to be the vital characteristic of American manhood.
I remembered reading that in 1767 a committee was appointed to decide
whether it would be wise to attempt to locate a village on the present
site of Worcester.
They reported that the place was one day's journey from Boston, and one
day's journey from Springfield, that the place was well watered by
streams and brooks, and that in eight miles square there was enough
meadow to warrant the settling of sixty families, adding these words:
"We recommend that a prudent and able committee be appointed to lay it
out, and that due care be taken by said committee that a good minister
of God's Word be placed there, as soon as may be, that such people as be
there planted may not live like lambs in a large place."
That was only a little more than a century ago. As I stood overlooking
it all, "thickly dotted with the homes of the husbandmen, and the
villages of the manufacturer, traversed by canal and railway, and
supporting a dense population," proving so strong a contrast between the
past generation's humble anticipations, and our overflowing prosperity,
I asked myself what those old Puritans would have thought of our
railroads, our electric cars, our modern machines, our telephones; and I
said, with a spirit of self-gratulation,
"We are living, we are dwelling,
In a grand and awful time;
In an age on ages telling,
To be living is sublime."
There is little doubt that future generations will look back upon this
age as the brightest in the world's history.
Third and Fourth Days.
_Bates House_,
SPRINGFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Eleventh_.
Lowering clouds and a slight fall of rain again confronted me as I
mounted _Paul_ at seven o'clock on the morning of the Third Day in front
of the Bay State House, Worcester, and rode out to the Boston and Albany
Turnpike. The prospect of meeting my wife and daughter, whom I had not
seen for several months, and the lecture appointment for Springfield
made this one of the memorable days of my journey for speed and
endurance. Fifty-four miles were whirled off in eight hours and the fact
established that _Paul_ could be relied upon to do all that was required
of him.
I had hardly dismounted in front of the Bates House when Mrs. Glazier
and Alice came running from the hotel to greet me. They had been
visiting in Hartford and had come up to Springfield early in the
morning, reaching the city several hours before my arrival. This visit
with my family at Springfield was one of the pleasant episodes of my
journey and long to be remembered in connection with my ride across the
Bay State.
My lecture was delivered at the Haynes Opera House, whither I was
escorted by comrades of the G. A. R. The introduction was by Captain
Smith, Commander of the Springfield Post, who spoke pleasantly of my
army and prison experiences and of the objects of my lecture tour.
[Illustration: OLD TOLL BRIDGE, SPRINGFIELD.]
Hastening back to the Bates House after the lecture, the remainder of
the evening was spent with my wife and daughter and a few friends who
had called for a social talk and to tell me something of the early
history of Springfield and vicinity.
As the lecture appointment for Pittsfield was set for the fifteenth I
readily discovered by a simple calculation that I could easily spend
another day with Hattie and Alice and still reach Pittsfield early in
the afternoon of the fifteenth. The leisure thus found was devoted to
strolls in and around Springfield and a careful study of the city and
its environs.
When King Charles the First had dissolved his third parliament, thus
putting his head on the bleeding heart of puritanism, there lived in
Springfield, England, a warden of the established church. "He was
thirty-nine years of age, of gentle birth, acute, restive, and
singularly self-assertive. He had seen some of the stoutest men of the
realm break into tears when the King had cut off free speech in the
Commons; he had seen ritualism, like an iron collar, clasped upon the
neck of the church, while a young jewelled courtier, the Duke of
Buckingham, dangled the reputation of sober England at his waistcoat. A
colonial enterprise, pushed by some Lincolnshire gentlemen, had been
noised abroad, and the warden joined his fortunes with them, and thus
became one of the original incorporators mentioned in the Royal Charter
of the Massachusetts Bay Company in America. This was William Pinchon."
After reaching this country he became treasurer of the colony, and a
member of the general court. He formed plans for a coast trade, and for
a trade with the Indians.
Such was the man of mark, who in 1636, with a colony of friends, made a
settlement on the fertile meadows of the Indian Agawam. The spot was
obtained by a deed signed by thirteen Indians, and Pinchon, in loving
remembrance of his old English home, christened the new settlement
Springfield. From the little we can glean of them, the ancient
inhabitants of the village must have been a grim old race.
Hugh Parsons, and Mary, his wife, were tried for witchcraft.
Goodwife Hunter was gagged and made to stand in the stocks for "Sundry
exhorbitance of ye toung."
Men were fined for not attending town meeting and voting.
In August, 1734, the Rev. Robert Breck was called to the church in
Springfield.
Shortly before that he had used the following words in one of his
sermons: "What will become of the heathen who never heard of the gospel,
I do not pretend to say, but I cannot but indulge a hope that God, in
his boundless benevolence, will find out a way whereby those heathen who
act up to the light they have may be saved."
The news of this alarming hope came to Springfield, and a few other
so-called unorthodox utterances were attributed to him. "In the minds of
the River Gods heterodoxy was his crime. For this the Rev. gentleman was
not only tried by a council of the church, but a sheriff and his posse
appeared and arrested Mr. Breck in his Majesty's name, and the prisoner
was taken first to the town-house, and afterward to New London for
trial."
[Illustration: A MASSACHUSETTS MILL STREAM.]
The early Springfield settlers had few of the articles which we
consider the commonest comforts of life.
Hon. John Worthington, "One of the Gods of the Connecticut Valley,"
owned the first umbrella in Springfield. He never profaned the article
by carrying it in the rain, but used it as a sun-shade only.
In 1753 there was but one clock in Springfield. It was considered a
great curiosity, and people used to stop to hear it strike.
As early as about 1774 that wonderful innovation, a cooking-stove, made
its appearance in Springfield. The stove was made in Philadelphia, and
weighed eight or nine hundred pounds.
It was 1810 when David Ames brought the first piano into the little
settlement.
We are furnished with a description of Springfield in 1789 by the
journal of the Great Washington. Under the date of October twenty-first
he wrote, "There is a great equality in the people of this State. Few or
no opulent men, and no poor. Great similitude in their buildings, the
general fashion of which is a chimney--always of brick or stone--and a
door in the middle, with a staircase fronting the latter, and running up
by the side of the former; two flush stories, with a very good show of
sash and glass windows; the size generally from thirty to fifty feet in
length, and from twenty to thirty in width, exclusive of a back shed,
which seems to be added as the family increases."
Much later in our national history, Springfield became one of the most
important stations of the "Underground Railroad."
In a back room on Main street can still be seen a fire-place, preserved
as a memento of stirring days, when many a negro was pushed up through
it, to be secreted in the great chimney above.
Springfield has had many noted citizens. The historian Bancroft lived
there at one time; so did John Brown, of Harper's Ferry fame.
George Ashman, a brilliant member of the local bar, was made chairman of
the famous Chicago convention of 1860 which nominated Abraham Lincoln
for President. Mr. Ashman also had the honor to convey the formal notice
of the nomination to Lincoln in Springfield, Illinois.
Dr. J. G. Holland lived in Springfield, where all of his prose works
first made their appearance, in the columns of the _Springfield
Republican_.
No spot in Springfield is more interesting to those fortunate enough to
see it than the United States Arsenal.
Springfield Armory was established by act of Congress, April, 1794, its
site having been accepted by Washington in 1789. The plant consists
of the Armory and Arsenal on the hill, and the water shops, distant
about two miles, on Mill River. Main Arsenal is on a bluff overlooking
the city, and is one hundred and sixty feet above the river. It is a
partial copy of East India House in London. From its tower there is a
wonderful view of the surrounding country, and one which was greatly
admired by Charles Dickens during his visit to America.
The Main Arsenal is two hundred feet by seventy, and is three stories
high, each floor having storage capacity for one hundred thousand stand
of arms.
[Illustration: THE SPRINGFIELD ARMORY.]
Longfellow's lines have made this a classic spot:
"This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But from the silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.
"Oh! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the death angel touches those swift keys!
What loud lament and dismal miserere
Will mingle with those awful symphonies!
"Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies;
But beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holy melodies of love arise."
Beside the Main Arsenal, two other buildings are used for the storage of
arms.
In 1795 Uncle Sam made his first musket. That year forty or fifty men
were employed, and 245 muskets were made. Between that and the present
time over 2,000,000 weapons have been turned out. During that time
$32,500,000 have been expended. When Sumter was fired on about 1,000
weapons per month were being made. Three months later, 3,000 were made
each month. In 1864, 1,000 muskets were completed each day, and 3,400
men were employed, with pay roll sometimes amounting to $200,000 per
month. At present only 400 men are employed.
From Springfield stock have come eight college presidents, namely of
Yale, Harvard, Columbia, Amherst, Princeton, Trinity, Beloit, and
Dickinson.
Springfield of to-day is a thriving city of about 50,000, and is the
county seat of Hampden County. Some one, I think, has called it the
"city of homes." Its streets are broad, and well shaded by elms and
maples; many of its residences are detached, and as a whole it bears the
stamp of taste and refinement.
Springfield is within easy reach of many points of interest. It is
ninety-eight miles from Boston, one hundred and twenty miles from New
York, and twenty-six miles from Hartford.
The growth of the Springfield Street Railroad Company has been
phenomenal. In 1869 this company started out with only $50,000 capital
stock. Its length was only about two miles. It had only four cars and
twenty-five horses. Three years ago horses were displaced by
electricity. Now, in the busy season, the daily mileage of transit on
the thirty-five miles of track is equal to the distance from Springfield
to San Francisco and half-way back. During the fiscal year closing
October first, 1892, 7,500,000 fares were taken.
The stores of Springfield are remarkably large and tasteful. Haynes &
Company have the largest clothing house in Massachusetts, out of Boston.
In 1875 Meakins & Packard started in business with only one boy to help
them. Now their building is one hundred feet square, and seven stories
high, while they now have over one hundred employees.
[Illustration: A MILL IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS.]
Springfield has three great manufactories, Smith & Wesson Pistol Works;
R. F. Hawkins Iron Works; and the Wesson Car Manufactory. Smith & Wesson
employ about 500 men, with an annual output of 80,000 weapons. They ship
goods to Russia and other countries. The Wesson Car Company in 1860 sent
$300,000 worth of goods to the Egyptian government. They have also done
considerable work for South America. They have done $150,000 worth for
the New Jersey Central Railroad, and $1,700,000 worth for the Central
Pacific Railroad.
The City Library was built at a cost of $100,000, and contains 80,000
books. Adjoining the library is the beautiful new art building,
containing a rare and costly collection of curiosities.
The City Hall is a building in the Romanesque style. It contains a
public hall with a seating capacity of 2,700.
The Court House is an imposing structure, is built of granite, and cost
$200,000.
The city has many a lovely spot in which to recreate. Imagine four
hundred acres, woodland alternating with highly cultivated lawns, and
stretches of blooming plants. Imagine in the midst of this a deep
ravine, with a brawling little brook through it. Imagine five lakelets
covered by Egyptian lotus, and the different varieties of water-lilies.
Through all this loveliness, think of seven miles of charming drives,
winding in and out like a ribbon, and you have in your mind a picture of
Springfield's enchanting Forest Park.
Fifth Day.
_Russell House_,
RUSSELL, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Thirteenth_.
My wife and daughter were not easily reconciled to my leavetaking of
Springfield, but yielding to the inevitable, adieus were quickly said,
_Paul_ was mounted and I rode slowly away from the Bates House, turning
occasionally in the saddle until entirely out of sight of my loved ones,
then putting spurs to my horse galloped out to the turnpike and headed
for Russell, the evening objective.
Considerable rain fell during the day and the roads at this time through
Western Massachusetts were in a wretched condition. With clothing
thoroughly soaked and mud anywhere from ankle to knee deep, the trip
from Springfield to Russell was anything but what I had pictured when
planning my overland tour in the saddle. Some consolation was found,
however, in recalling similar experiences in the army and I resolved to
allow nothing to depress or turn me from my original purpose. A halt was
made for dinner during this day's ride, at a country inn or tavern ten
miles west of Springfield.
Notwithstanding the fact that I did not leave Springfield until nearly
ten o'clock in the morning, and that I was out of the saddle over an
hour on account of dinner, and compelled to face a pelting storm
throughout the day, I did well to advance eighteen miles by four
o'clock, the time of dismounting at the Russell House.
Russell is one of the most beautiful of the numerous villages of Hampden
County, and is picturesquely situated among the Berkshire Hills in the
western part of the State. It stands on the banks of the Westfield
River, upon which it relies for water-power in the manufacture of paper,
its only industry. It has direct communication with Eastern and Western
Massachusetts through the Boston and Albany Railway, and while it is not
likely that it will ever come to anything pretentious, it will always
be, in appearance at least, a rugged and romantic-looking little
village.
[Illustration: A HAMLET IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS.]
Sixth Day.
_Becket House_,
BECKET, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Fourteenth_.
Mounted _Paul_ in front of the hotel at Russell at nine o'clock in the
morning to ride towards Chester, along the bank of the Westfield River.
This swift branch of the Connecticut runs along between its green banks
fertilizing the meadows and turning the factory wheels that here and
there dip down into its busy current. The Indian name "Agawam," by which
it is known nearer its mouth, seems more appropriate for the wild little
stream, and often, while I was following its course, I thought of the
banished Red Men who had given it this musical name and who had once
built their wigwams along its shores.
On this morning the air was fresh and the view pleasing under the
magical influence of spring, and both were none the less enjoyed by the
assurance that dinner could be had at our next stopping-place. Upon
dismounting, I found that the ride could not have been as agreeable to
_Paul_ as to his master, for his back was in a very sore condition.
Everything was done for his comfort; cold water and castile soap being
applied to relieve the injured parts, and the cumbersome saddle-cloth
which had been doing duty since we left Boston was discarded for a
simple blanket such as I had used while in the cavalry service. This was
a change for the better and was made at the right time, for, as I
afterwards had some difficulty in keeping the direct road, the equipment
of my horse relieved what might have proved a fatiguing day's ride. As
it was, the novelty of being lost, which was my experience on this
occasion, had its advantages, for a wanderer in the Berkshire Hills
finds much to suit the fancy and to please the eye. At six o'clock,
notwithstanding the delay, we came into Becket, where Edwin Lee, the
proprietor of the hotel of the place, told me I was the only guest.
Becket is an enterprising little village, thirty-seven miles northwest
of Springfield, having a graded school and several manufactories. The
scenery throughout the region is rugged and attractive, a charming
characteristic of the Bay State.
Seventh Day.
_Berkshire House_,
PITTSFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Fifteenth_.
Rode away from Becket at eight o'clock in the morning, and on the way
found it necessary to favor _Paul_ in this day's ride; so I dismounted
and walked several miles. This was not a disagreeable task, for my
journey lay over the picturesque Hoosac Mountains whose wooded sides and
fertile valleys were almost a fairyland of loveliness at this season.
Owing to this delay, Pittsfield was not reached until one o'clock. Here
I delivered my fourth lecture at the Academy of Music, Captain Brewster,
commander of the Pittsfield Post, G. A. R., introducing me.
[Illustration: SUBURB OF PITTSFIELD.]
Eighth Day
_Berkshire House_,
PITTSFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May Sixteenth_.
Spent the morning at the "Berkshire," posting my journal and attending
to private and business correspondence. The afternoon was passed in a
stroll through the town, where I saw much that was of interest and
gathered some information concerning its early history, progress and
present condition.
Of the fourteen counties of Massachusetts, the most strongly marked and
highly favored is Berkshire, with its four cardinal boundaries, formed
by four different states. To one who sees, for the first time, the
luxuriance of its vegetation, the beauty of its forest-covered hills,
the broad shady avenues of its villages, with their palatial homes, it
seems as if Nature and wealth had combined to make this spot a veritable
"Garden of the Gods."
In the exact centre of all this loveliness, more than 1,000 feet above
the level of the sea, lies the little city of Pittsfield, containing
about 16,000 inhabitants. Its principal streets form a cross, North,
South, East, and West streets meeting at an elliptical grove of stately
elms forming a small park. Here in old days stood one central tree, its
height one hundred and twenty-eight feet, its bare shaft ninety feet,
with many a memory of the French and Indian wars attached to it. In
1841, it was struck by lightning. In 1861 it was cut down, even stern
men weeping at its fall. It was replaced by a fountain, whose stream may
be raised to the height of the old tree. This park also holds a huge
shaft of granite, upon which stands the bronze figure of a soldier, flag
in hand. On the granite are cut the words, "For the dead a tribute, for
the living a memory, for posterity an emblem of devotion to their
country's flag." To the west of the park is Pittsfield's large
brownstone Post Office, it being the first building on North street, a
small business thoroughfare, whose stores, with their dainty wares and
tasteful fabrics, would do credit to many a large city.
On the south of the park stands the Athenaeum, a building of rough stone,
erected at the cost of $100,000 as a "tribute to art, science, and
literature," and presented to his fellow-townspeople by Thomas Allen. It
contains a large free library, an art gallery, and a very entertaining
museum of curiosities. Next door to the Athenaeum is the large white
Court House, said to have cost $400,000. Across from the Court House, in
a little corner of the park, is a tiny music house, gay with colored
electric lights, where open air evening concerts are given all through
the summer.
On the north of the park stand two of the handsomest of Pittsfield's
eleven churches.
[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS.]
The city's manufactories are large and thrifty, but they, and the
operatives who manipulate them, are tucked away in a corner, so to
speak, where they may not offend the eyes of the opulent inhabitants.
Only in the riotous jostle of Saturday night in the store is one brought
face to face with the fact that beauty, leisure and wealth do not hold a
monopoly of the sweet Berkshire air. For everything appears so lovely.
The streets are very wide, great stately avenues, where beautiful strips
of the finest lawn border each edge of the sidewalk. Society is the
choicest, for the summer residences of New York's four hundred
intermingle with the magnificent old mansions owned by the staunchest of
Massachusetts' old blue-blooded sons and daughters. Cropping out through
the elegance of this little city are some queer old Yankee traits.
Lawlessness there is none. No policemen guard the park, with its ideal
lawns, but a polite notice informs passers-by that this being no
thoroughfare, trespassing will not be tolerated, and there is none. When
the concerts are in full blast, people gather in the walks and drives
only. Whole rows of little street Arabs may be seen on these occasions,
drawn up with their little bare toes touching the very edge of the
precious grass. The open music house is always left full of chairs,
which no one steals, nay, which no one uses. The entrance to the Court
House is filled with blooming plants. No child, no dog even, is ill-bred
enough to break one.
But the peculiarities of the people, the beauty of the dwellings, the
magnificence of the equipages, the tide of fashionable life which pours
in, summer and fall, _all_, ALL is forgotten as, from some point of
vantage, the spectator takes in the beauty surrounding him. "On the west
sweep the Taconics, in that majestic curve, whose grace travelers,
familiar with the mountain scenery of both hemispheres, pronounce
unequaled. On the east the Hoosacs stretch their unbroken battlements,
with white villages at their feet, and, if the sunlight favors, paths of
mingled lawn and wood, enticing to their summits; while from the south,
'Greylock, cloud-girdled on his purple throne' looks grandly across the
valley to the giant heights, keeping watch and ward over the pass where
the mountains throw wide their everlasting gates, to let the winding
Housatonic flow peacefully toward the sea."
Thus, in taking leave of Massachusetts, I looked back to the
starting-point, and thought with pleasure of the many beautiful links in
the chain connecting Boston with Pittsfield, none more beautiful than
the last.
Ninth Day.
_Nassau House_,
NASSAU, NEW YORK,
_May Seventeenth_.
Ordered my horse at ten in the morning, and before riding on stopped at
the office of the _Berkshire Eagle_ to talk a few minutes with the
editor. The route from Pittsfield lay over the Boston and Albany
Turnpike, one of the villages on the way being West Lebanon. Here we had
dinner. While quietly pursuing my journey afterwards, in crossing the
Pittsfield Mountain, I overtook Egbert Jolls, a farmer, with whom I had
a long and interesting conversation. He amused me with stories of the
Lebanon Shakers, among whom he had lived many years, and whose peculiar
belief and customs have always set them widely apart from other sects.
Perhaps the most singular point in their doctrine is that God is dual,
combining in the One Person the eternal Father and Mother of all
generated nature. They believe that the revelation of God is
progressive, and in its last aspect the manifestation was God revealed
in the character of Mother, as an evidence of Divine affection. Ann Lee,
the daughter of a Manchester blacksmith, is the founder of the sect, and
considered from her holy life to be the human representation of this
Divine duality. This is a strange belief, and one that is not generally
known, but its adherents have among other good traits one which commends
them to the respect of those who know anything of them, and that is
their sober and industrious habits.
Soon after crossing the State line between Massachusetts and New York,
we passed the home of Governor Samuel J. Tilden. Two years before, this
popular Democrat was elected governor, by a plurality of 50,000 votes
above his fellow-candidate, John A. Dix. He won popular attention by his
strong opposition to certain political abuses; notably the Tweed Charter
of 1870; and by incessant activity he was, in 1876, beginning to reap
the laurels of a career which began while he was a student at Yale.