LIFE'S EVENING GLOW.
Carleton's biographer having resigned the pastorate of Shawmut Church
at the end of 1892, the work was continued by the Rev. William E.
Barton, who had been called from Wellington, Ohio. He began his
ministrations March 1, 1893. As so very many families forming the old
church, and who had grown up in it from early manhood, youth, or even
childhood, had removed from the neighborhood, it was necessary to
reorganize to a certain extent. The great changes which had come over
the South End, and the drift of population to the more attractive
neighborhoods in the Back Bay, Brookline, Dorchester, Newton, Allston,
and other beautiful suburbs of Boston, caused much derangement of
previously existing conditions. The tremendous development of the
means of transportation by the steam, horse or electric railways, to
say nothing of the bicycle, had caused a marvellous bloom of new life
and flush of vigor among the suburban churches, while those in the
older parts of the city suffered corresponding decline. The Shawmut
Church, like the Mount Vernon, the Pine Street, and others, had to
pass through experiences which make a familiar story to those who know
Philadelphia, New York, and London. The work of the old city churches
had been to train up and graduate sons and daughters with noble
Christian principles and character, to build up the waste places and
the newer societies. Like bees, the new swarms out from the old hives
were called to gather fresh honey.
The exodus from rural New England and from Canada enlarged Boston, and
caused the building up and amazing development of Brookline. With such
powerful magnets drawing away the old residents, together with the
multiplication of a new and largely non-American and Roman Catholic
population into the district lying east of Washington Street, the
older congregations of the South End had, by 1890, been vastly
changed. Several had been so depleted in their old supporters, that
churches moved in a body to new edifices on the streets and avenues
lying westward. In others the burdens of support fell upon a
decreasing number of faithful men and women. Where once were not
enough church edifices to accommodate the people who would worship in
them, was now a redundancy. In the city where a Roman Catholic church
was once a curiosity are now nearly fifty churches that acknowledge
the Pope's supremacy.
These things are stated with some detail, in order to show the
character of Charles Carleton Coffin in its true light. After a
laborious life, having borne the heat and burden of the day in the
churches where his lot was cast, withal, having passed his three score
and ten years, one would naturally expect this veteran to seek repose.
Not a few of his friends looked to see him set himself down in some
one of the luxurious new church edifices, amid congenial social
surroundings and material comforts.
Carleton sought not his own comfort. When the new pastor and the old
guard, left in Shawmut Church to "hold the fort," took counsel
together as to the future, they waited with some anxiety to hear what
choice and decision Mr. Coffin would make. He had already selected the
ground and was making plans for building his new home, "Alwington," at
No. 9 Shailer Street, Brookline,--several miles away from his old
residence in Dartmouth Street. It was naturally thought that he would
ally himself with a wealthy old church elsewhere, and bid farewell, as
so many had done, to their old church home, taking no new burdens,
risks, or responsibilities. During the conference in the Shawmut
prayer-room, Carleton rose and, with a smiling face and his usual
impressive manner, stated that he should give his hopes and prayers,
his sympathy and work, his gifts and influence to Shawmut Church; and,
for the present at least, without dictating the future, would cast in
his lot with the Shawmut people. A thrill of delight, unbidden tears
of joy, and a new warmth of heart came to those who heard. As time
went on he so adjusted himself to the change, and found Dr. Barton
such a stimulating preacher, that any thought of sacrifice entirely
vanished.
When the first Congregational Church of Christ in Ithaca, N. Y.,--the
city named by Simeon DeWitt after his Ulysses-like wanderings were
over,--sent out its "letter missive" to the churches of the Central
Association of New York State, and to Shawmut Church in Boston, the
latter responded. It was voted to send, as their messengers, the
pastor, Rev. Dr. Barton, and Mr. Coffin; Mrs. Barton and Mrs. Coffin
accompanied them. These four came on to the Forest City and its
university "far above Cayuga's waters." With the delight of a boy
Carleton enjoyed the marvellously lovely scenery, the hills robed in
colors as many as though they had borrowed Joseph's robe, and Cayuga,
the queen of the waters in New York's beautiful lake region. Most of
all he visited with delight that typical American university which,
Christian in spirit, neither propagates nor attacks the creed of any
sect.
With its stately edifices for culture, training, research, and
religion, it had risen like a new city on the farm of Ezra Cornell.
This far-seeing man, like Mr. Coffin, had, when so many others were
blind, discerned in the new force, electricity, the vast future
benefits to commerce, science, and civilization. Ezra Cornell had
helped powerfully to develop its application by his thought, his
money, and his personal influence. Ezra Cornell, in Irish phrase,
"invented telegraph poles." Moses Farmer, the electrician, invented
the lineman's spurred irons by which to climb them.
Besides attending the Church Council in the afternoon, Carleton made
an address in the evening that was to one flattering and to many
inspiring. Later on, the same night, he attended the reception given
to the Faculty and new students at the house of President J. G.
Schurman. He was delighted in seeing the young president, with whose
power as a thinker and writer he had already acquainted himself.
Carleton's last and chief literary work, done in his old home on
Dartmouth Street, was to link together in the form of story the
Revolutionary lore which he had gathered up from talks with
participators in "the time that tried men's souls." From boyhood's
memories, from long and wide reading in original monographs, from
topographical acquaintance, he planned to write a trio or quartet of
stories of American history. He wished to present the scenes of the
Revolution as in the bright colors of reality, in the dark shadows
which should recall sacrifice, and with that graphic detail and power
to turn the past into the present, of which he was a master.
As he had repeatedly written the story of the great Civil War from the
point of view of a war correspondent actually on the ground, so would
he tell the story of the Revolution as if he had been a living and
breathing witness of what went on from day to day, enjoying and
suffering those hopes and fears which delight and torment the soul
when the veil of the future still hangs opaque before the mind.
His first instalment, "The Daughters of the Revolution," was published
by Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., in a comely and well-illustrated
volume. It deals with that opening history of the eight years' war
with Great Britain which at the beginning had Boston for its centre
and in which New England especially took part.
In his other books, "Building the Nation," "Boys of '76," and "Old
Times in the Colonies," Carleton had not ignored the work and
influence of the "home guard" composed of mothers, daughters, aunts,
cousins, and grandmothers; but in this story of the "Daughters" he
gave special prominence to what our female ancestors did to make the
country free, and to hand down in safeguarded forms that which had
been outraged by King and Parliament.
How widely popular this volume may have been, the writer cannot say,
but he knows that one little maiden whom he sees every day has re-read
the work several times.
In a subsequent volume of the series, Carleton proposed to repicture
the splendid achievements of the colonial army in northeastern New
York. Here, from Lake Champlain to Sandy Hook, is a "great rift
valley" which lies upon the earth's scarred and diversified surface
like a mighty trough. It corresponds to that larger and grander rift
valley from Lebanon to Zanzibar, through Galilee and the Jordan, the
Red Sea, and the great Nyanzas, or Lakes of Africa. As in the oldest
gash on the earth's face lies the scene of a long procession of
events, so, of all places on the American continent, probably, no line
of territory has witnessed such a succession of dramatic, brilliant,
and decisive events, both in unrecorded time and in historic days,
from Champlain and Henry Hudson to the era of Fulton, Morse, and
Edison.
In the Revolution, the Green Mountain boys, and the New York and New
England militia under Schuyler and Gates, had made this region the
scene of one of the decisive campaigns of the world. Yet, in the
background and at home, the heroines did their noble part in working
for that consummation at Saratoga which won the recognition and
material aid of France for the United States of America. Besides
Lafayette, came also the lilies of France, alongside the stars and
stripes. The white uniforms were set in battle array with the buff and
blue against the red coats, and herein Carleton saw visions and
dreamed dreams, which his pen, like the camera which chains the light,
was to photograph in words. He had made his preliminary studies,
readings, personal interviews, and reexamination of the region, and
had written four or five chapters, when the call of the Captain to
another detail of service came to him.
Life is worth living as long as one is interested in other lives than
one's own. "_Dando conservat_" is the motto of a famous
Dutch-American family. So Carleton, by giving, preserved. In the
summer of 1895, after Japan had startled the world by her military
prowess, Carleton went down to Nantucket Island, and there at a great
celebration delivered a fine historical address, closing with these
words:
"Thus it came to pass that he who guides the sparrow in its flight saw
fit to use the sailors of Nantucket, by shipwreck and imprisonment, as
his agents to bring about the resurrection of the millions of Japan
from the grave of a dead past to a new and vigorous life. Thus it is
that Nantucket occupies an exalted position in connection with the
history of our country."
Of this he wrote me in one of his last letters, February 27, 1896:
"I have read 'Townsend Harris' with unspeakable delight. I love to
think of the resurrection of Japan in connection with the Puritans of
Massachusetts,--the original movement culminating in Perry's
expedition having its origin in the shipwrecking of Nantucket sailors
on the shores of that empire." Mr. Coffin brought out this idea in
his earlier and later address which he gave at Nantucket.
Having lived over thirteen years, from 1877 to 1895, at No. 81
Dartmouth Street, and feeling now the need for a little more quiet
from the rumble of the trolley-car, for more light and room, for house
space, for the accommodation of friends who loved to make their home
with a genial host and his loving companion, and to indulge in that
hospitality which was a lifelong trait, Mr. and Mrs. Coffin began
looking for a site whereon to build in Brookline. No yokefellows were
ever more truly one in spirit than "Uncle Charles and Aunt Sally."
Providence having denied them the children for whom they had yearned,
both delighted in a constant stream of young people and friends.
Blessed by divine liberality in the form of nephews and nieces, rich
in the gifts of nature, culture, and grace, neither Carleton nor his
wife was often left lonely.
The new house was built after his suggestions and under his own
personal oversight, the outdoor tasks and journeys thus necessitated
making a variety rather pleasant than otherwise. Here, in this new
home, his golden wedding was to be celebrated, February 18, 1896. The
house was in modern style, with all the comforts and conveniences
which science and applied art could suggest. While comparatively
modest and simple in general plan and equipment, it had open
fireplaces, electric lights, a spacious porch, roomy hallways, and
plenty of windows. It was No. 9 Shailer Street, and named Alwington,
after the ancestral home in Devonshire, England.
Mr. Coffin's study room was upon the northeast, where, with plenty of
light and the morning sun, he could sit at his desk looking out upon
Harvard Street, and over towards Beacon Street; the opposite side of
the street, fortunately, not being occupied by buildings to obscure
his view. At first he was often allured from his work for many
minutes, and even for a half hour at a time, by a majestic elm-tree so
rich in foliage and comely in form that he looked upon it with
ravished eyes. It was in this room that he wrote the chapters for his
second book, which was to show especially the part which American
women had played in the making of their country.