of sixty-three white men and twenty Cape Indians, was advancing upon the
enemy, was surrounded by about nine hundred Indians at a point on the
Blackstone not far from William Blaxton's house. With true Spartan
courage he and his little band resolved to sell their lives at a high
price; so forming a circle back to back, they made a desperate
resistance for two mortal hours, and after they had fallen it was found
that about three hundred of their cruel captors had perished with them.
In the same war another brutal butchery entailed upon another spot in
the Gore just north of Camp Swamp the name of "Nine Men's Misery." There
three triads of white soldiers, finding themselves surrounded by a large
force of savages who had been lying in wait for them, placed their backs
against a huge rock and fought like heroic knights in the old Arthurian
days, until all were slain. Afterwards their nine bodies were buried in
one wide grave, which was marked by a heap of stones; and many years
later a company of young Boston physicians exhumed the bones, and one
skeleton was identified as that of Bucklin of Rehoboth, because the jaws
contained a set of double front teeth.
In the Revolutionary struggle Attleboro men bore an active and honorable
part, and some of her noblest sons were under fire in the hottest
engagements of the eight years' war. A respected citizen of the town
recently told the writer that immediately after the battle of Bunker
Hill, Caleb Parmenter, Thomas French, and Isaac Perry proceeded to
Boston on foot, and joined the army then in command of General Ward; and
the first of the three, on whom Governor Samuel Adams afterwards
conferred a lieutenant's commission, was present at Cambridge when
General Washington assumed charge of the army. A company of men was also
raised in Attleboro for service at the siege of Newport, R. I., and in
the engagement at Quaker Hill they pushed bayonets with the British
three times in a single day, and two of their number, Israel Dyer and
Valentine Wilmarth, were slain.
At an early date in the history of the town two taverns (already
referred to) were established, which under successive proprietors
flourished for many years, and acquired a wide reputation for abundant
good cheer and excellent liquors. As model public houses of the time
they were not inferior to the Punch Bowl at Brookline, Bride's in
Dedham, or even the Wayside Inn in ancient Sudbury, made forever famous
by Longfellow. Each in its way was
"A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
* * *
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And stairways worn, and crazy doors,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge and tiled and tall."
Hatch's Tavern, the older of the two inns, was John Woodcock's ordinary
enlarged to meet the demands of the times. It stood on the identical
spot where his garrison was planted, and until quite recently some of
the logs that formed the ancient stockades might be found built into the
older portion of the structure. In 1806 the original house was removed a
few feet to the south to make room for a new tavern, and there it is
still standing. The new house in which the original proprietor and
landlord made his enviable reputation was needed to accommodate the
increased public travel soon after the opening of the Norfolk and
Bristol Turnpike, as described in an article entitled "From the White
Horse to Little Rhody," and published in the first volume of this
magazine. No house along the entire line of this once important
thoroughfare dispensed a more generous hospitality or was presided over
by a more genial host. It was twelve miles out from Providence, and a
place where all the stages stopped to change horses, and allow
passengers to partake of a breakfast, or some favorite beverage at the
bar.
Somewhat later in the century Balcom's Tavern in the east part of the
town sprung up, and was maintained for a long period as a popular house
of resort. The original structure, enlarged and changed by successive
additions, still stands on the corner of South Main and Park streets.
Here have been entertained not only celebrities of the earlier days, but
famous modern men, among whom might be mentioned Ralph Waldo Emerson,
Wendell Phillips, and Oliver Wendell Holmes, who visited the town as
lyceum lecturers. In 1852 this house was purchased by Dr. Edward
Sanford, who remodelled and repaired it, and made it his own private
residence for thirty years, when it passed into the care of tenants.
The proprietors who gave their names to these public houses were men
quite widely known in their day, though for different reasons. Col.
Hatch was emphatically a man of affairs, and full of business both
public and private; wiser, perhaps, for this world than the next, he
sought to become a political leader and office-holder among his
townsmen. Col. Balcom on the contrary was a merry sporting-man, equally
at home among gamblers and horse-racers, and in the society of
gentlemen. He was politic and adroit, not lacking in good points, though
he had conspicuous vices. The former kept a quiet, orderly, and
eminently respectable house; the latter liked to entertain a jovial
company, and enjoyed the fun too well to frown upon youthful pranks or
hilarious conduct. Among many good anecdotes told of Col. Balcom, there
is one very characteristic, and good enough to find a record here.
It is related that Parson Holman and other pious people of the village
often sought to induce the colonel to reform his course of life and seek
those things which concerned his eternal peace; but the wily landlord,
while receiving them with a most gracious suavity, usually managed to
evade the force of their appeals and frustrate their most serious
efforts for the good of his soul. On one occasion, so runs the story,
the deacons of the church made him a special visit, and, being ushered
into the parlor, were given a patient audience while they pointed out
the moral danger of his way of life, and besought him earnestly to
reform. But presently the colonel was called out, and having obtained a
short leave of absence ordered a flask of his best brandy carried in to
the deacons, with sugar and glasses. Of course it was in entire accord
with the custom of those days for the worthy pillars of the church to
partake of the proffered beverage; and, on his return Col. Balcom said:
"Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready to talk." So the
deacons drank again. Scarcely had they picked up the lost thread of the
conversation, however, when the landlord was once more obliged to excuse
himself in order to attend to some urgent duty as host; and, in fact,
several like interruptions occurred in the course of an hour. But in
each case the imperturbable colonel returned with the same hearty words
upon his lips: "Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready
to talk." Then as the smooth brandy began to tell on the deacons, they
gradually modified their estimate of the landlord's sins and their
personal duty, until at length one of them rose from his chair and
turning to the other said: "Waal, I guess Col. Balcom ain't the wust
sort o' man in the world--come, brother, let's go home."
Although nature and circumstances would seem to have destined Attleboro
for an agricultural town, its reputation rests chiefly on its mechanical
industries, and during the eighteenth century there were several small
cotton mills running in the place. As early as 1825, a traveller
following the Ten-Mile River from the Wrentham line to where the stream
slips into Seekonk on the other side of the town, would have found two
cotton mills near where Whiting's jewelry factory now stands, a third
near the site of the "Company's" shop, and still a fourth at Falls
Village. Farther on he would have come upon the rude beginnings of the
button factory which has flourished so long at Robinsonville; a nail
factory at Deantown and another at the Farmers, as well as a cotton mill
on the spot where the stove foundry now stands in the same village.
Robert Saunderson's forge would have been blazing at Mechanics beside
John Cooper's corn mill, and Balcom's machine shop in active operation
where R. Wolfenden's sons now ply the trade of dyers. Hebronville also
would then, as now, have greeted the visitor with the music of swift
shuttles and whirling spindles, as he passed on to the end of his tour
of inspection at Kent's grist mill, the oldest, probably, in the
country.
These rude mills were the original sources of a progressive,
ever-widening, material prosperity for which Attleboro is justly noted.
Its people display great business thrift; its many commodious factories
are crowded with skilled mechanics and trained artisans; and its
abundant products are sold by men of enterprise in all the markets of
the world. The farm and garden products of the town make a very
respectable display at the annual local and county fairs; the textile
and other manufactures would make no mean showing; but all these
industries are eclipsed by the one business that absorbs the majority of
labor and capital, namely, the making of jewelry.
It has been facetiously, sometimes sneeringly, remarked that the
Attleboro jewelers are as nearly creators as finite beings can be,
because they almost make something out of nothing, while the cheap
trinkets they turn out by the barrel have to be hurried to market by
rapid express, lest they corrode and tarnish before they can be disposed
of. Such jests, however, convey a very erroneous and unfair notion of
the real character of most of the work done in those large shops, and
the amount of money invested in the business. It is true that grades of
very poor jewelry are made in Attleboro, and it is equally true that
most of the goods manufactured there are both costly and durable; it is
not "washed brass" that goes to the trade with the stamp of those great
firms upon it, but heavy rolled plate goods, containing such a thickness
of fine gold that they may be deeply cut with the graver's tool, and
will never wear down to the baser metal which it conceals. The curious
and wonderful processes of this complex manufacture cannot be even
hinted at in the space of such an article as this, and only an
approximate estimate of the value of these products and the number of
employes working upon them can be given in figures.
The census reports for the year 1880 enumerate the different
manufactures of the town as artisans' tools, boots and shoes, boxes,
brushes, buttons, carriages and wagons, coffin trimmings, cooking and
heating apparatus, cotton goods, cotton, woollen, and other textiles,
electroplating, food preparations, jewelry burnishing, lapidary work,
leather, machinery, metallic goods, printing, bleaching, and dyeing. The
capital invested in these industries is chiefly devoted to jewelry
business, and is placed by the report at a total of $2,924,890; the
products are valued at $4,345,809; and the number of employes is set at
3,378. But that census, though substantially correct when made, will not
answer now; for, in the five years elapsed since it was taken, new
factories have been built, new firms have started in business, and old
ones have enlarged their trade.
The spirit of enterprise engendered by the large business interests in
which the leading citizens are engaged is manifest also in the
management of public affairs, and the town is noted for liberal
expenditures of money in the way of substantial improvements. The public
buildings, with the exception of two high-school houses recently
erected, and the new Universalist Church in North Attleboro, a handsome
brick structure, demand no special mention; but its system of abundant
water supply and the provision made for an efficient fire department are
standing advertisements that the town looks carefully after the health
and protection of its citizens and their homes. For many years the
Farmers and Mechanics Association has held an autumnal town fair, where
in its ample grounds and halls are exhibited a fine display of farm
stock, implements and produce, domestic and artistic handiwork, and
manufactured goods of the trades. The grounds contain also a fine
half-mile track, on which is annually made a showing of horses owned in
Attleboro that would compare favorably with any other in the country.
Another organization which attests the live, progressive spirit of the
place is the Board of Trade, to which most of the leading business men
belong. It was established in the spring of 1881, with commodious rooms
and appointments on Washington Street, North Attleboro.
No town in Bristol county has provided more liberally for the education
of youth than Attleboro, and in the larger centres a graded school
system has been adopted; nor is it lacking in the appointed means of
moral improvement, since there are within its limits no less than
fifteen religious societies, holding regular Sunday services. Two weekly
newspapers, the _Advocate_ and the ... are published in the place; there
are also two national banks, one savings bank, and a savings and loan
association.
Did space permit, it would be possible to single out from the many sons
and residents of Attleboro, men who have become distinguished for
learning and the public and private services they have rendered their
fellow-men; but it must suffice here simply to remark that it is the
crowning glory of the town to count among its citizens a large number of
sagacious, sensible men of affairs, who have built up its manifold
interests, and by personal enterprise and energy have secured for the
place a large measure of material prosperity. Very early in its history
the family names of these substantial men appear on the records of the
town--Allen, Peck, Carpenter, Daggett, Robinson, Blackinton, May,
Thacher, Richards, Capron, Ide, Wheaton, Bliss, and others,--names that
stand for character, influence, thrift, and wealth. But these have no
need of eulogy or praise, since every busy factory and every commodious
home testifies to their worth; then let this sketch be concluded with a
brief allusion to one whose simple record, though one of the
curiosities of the town, and containing an epitome of instructive
history, will excite no man's envy and pique no family pride.
In the old-burying ground in the north part of the town--the first
cemetery in the region--is a headstone marking the grave of a pious
negro slave, on which is rudely chiselled the following inscription:--
Here lies the best of slaves,
Now turning into dust;
Caesar, the Ethiopian, craves
A place among the just.
His faithful soul has fled
To realms of heavenly light,
And, by the blood of Jesus shed,
Is changed from _Black_ to _White_.
January 15, he quitted the stage,
In the 77th year of his age.
1780.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE CHRIST CHILD.
[From Christmas Wide Awake.]]
ART IN BOOK ILLUSTRATION.
BY CHARLES E. HURD.
Books, books, books! Their number, variety, gorgeousness of bindings,
and wealth of illustration confuse the visitor who at this season
wanders through the bookstores of a great city, whether aimlessly, or
with the design of purchase. Books stare at him from the long rows of
shelves; books are piled in reckless profusion upon the counters; they
protrude from under the tables, as if vainly seeking to hide themselves
there from insatiable buyers; they bulge through the broken paper of
packages in corners; they crowd themselves into the windows, where the
boldest and most gorgeous display themselves as if calling to the
passers-by to come in and purchase.
One cannot help wondering, sometimes, where all these books come from.
Who are their makers? What reason is there for their existence? Under
what circumstances were they thrust upon the world? For, really, eight
out of ten count as nothing in the literary race for fame or money.
Either the publisher or the author--nowadays, as a rule, the
latter--must suffer. The book--representative of the hopes, the
wearisome labors, and, sometimes, of the brains of the author--leaps
into being with the air of "Who will not buy me?" which soon changes
into that of "Who will buy me?" and goes out finally to stand at the
doors of the second-hand bookstores on a dirty shelf, to get its covers
blistered in the sun, its binding dampened by the rain, all the while
shamefully conscious of the legend displayed above,--"Anything on this
shelf for 25 cents."
[Illustration: FOREST OF ARDENNES.
[From Childe Harold.]]
There are, however, books that achieve success, and that publishers
thrive upon. Books that are "a joy forever," companions, counsellors,
and friends, the value of whose printed pages is aided and added to by
the hand of the draughtsman, and in which text and illustration
harmoniously blend to make the perfect book.
It speaks well for the growing taste of the American public that these
books, whose cost of manufacture often reaches many thousands of
dollars, always meet with popular favor, and so exacting has the public
taste become that no publisher of reputation dares leave a stone
unturned in the carrying-out of any literary project in which
illustration bears part.
[Illustration: STAMBOUL.
[From Childe Harold.]]
It is only by putting the work of twenty years ago by the side of that
of to-day that one can realize what wonderful strides have been made in
every department of bookmaking, more especially in that of illustration.
The art of wood-engraving has been carried, one could almost say, to
perfection. In its marvellous capability of imitation it has, perhaps,
lost individuality, but it has proved its adaptability to the production
of the most diverse and beautiful effects. In the hands of artistic
workmen,--for an engraver must nowadays be an artist as well as a
workman,--a wood cut may imitate a true engraving, an etching, a
mezzotint, a charcoal or crayon drawing, or even the wash of water
color, or india ink. One with some theoretical knowledge of the art will
find wonderful opportunities for study in some of the holiday volumes of
the present season, which show the latest developments of the skill of
the engraver, and the different methods of producing effects.
[Illustration: IANTHE.
[From Childe Harold.]]
Let us stand here at the counter in one of our largest bookstores, and
turn over the pages of a few of the books which lie nearest. First at
hand is _Childe Harold_, the latest in that admirable series of gift
books which includes _The Princess_, Owen Meredith's _Lucile_, and
Scott's _Lady of the Lake_. How charmingly everything is balanced in the
making of the book,--type, margin, binding, and what we are now
specially considering, illustration. How full of atmosphere are the
landscapes, and how clear and perfectly kept their values! Look at the
exquisite little wood scene on page 123, with the foreground in shadow,
and a bar of sunshine lying across the middle distance. And here, in a
totally different subject, a view of Stamboul, where the engraver has
had to deal with land, water, and sky,--how cleverly he has managed to
bring each part of his picture into its proper relations with the
others, and yet how simply it is done! Changing from landscape to
figure, take the ideal head, "Ianthe," which one might imagine was
drawn, feature by feature, from the portrait of Byron, which forms the
frontispiece of the volume. It is an example of what perfect knowledge
can achieve on the part of the engraver,--delicate and yet strong in its
way, soft without being indistinct, every line being made to fulfil its
purpose and nothing more.
[Illustration: TOWER OF THE MENGIA.
[From Tuscan Cities.]]
Here is another volume from the same house, "Tuscan Cities," which shows
the capabilities of wood-engraving in quite another direction. Some of
the illustrations might absolutely be taken for etchings, so faithfully
have the peculiarities of the artist been followed. Compare the
treatment of "The Tower of the Mengia" with that of the pictures already
mentioned, and mark the difference of effect.
[Illustration: THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
[From Heroines of the Poets.]]
[Illustration: "HOW THEY CARRIED THE GOOD NEWS."
[From Ideal Poems.]]
[Illustration: EVENING BY THE LAKESIDE.
[From Poems of Nature.]]
[Illustration: MATERNITY.
[_From "Songs of Seven."_]]
Here is another exquisite holiday volume,--"Heroines of the
Poets,"--which will further exemplify what we have been saying. It has
been made up of a series of pictures by Fernand H. Lungren, with
accompanying text. Any single picture will serve as an illustration. For
instance, this of Ellen, in "The Lady of the Lake," a subject of unusual
difficulty, and requiring unusual skill for its proper management. It
needs no second glance to see how perfectly the engraver has triumphed
over his difficulties. Or, select at random any of the illustrations in
this second volume from the same publishers, "Ideal Poems." One of the
best, perhaps, is Henry Sandham's vigorous illustration of Browning's
poem, "How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix." The sunburst
over the eastern hills, the cattle black against the light, the panting
horses and their eager riders, and the rolling clouds of dust,--the
character of each and all, as portrayed by the artist, is perfectly
rendered.
[Illustration: "THE SWANHERDS WHERE THE SEDGES ARE."
[From The High Tide.]]
Elbridge Kingsley has acquired reputation for engraving directly from
nature, without the intervention of brush or pencil. One may judge of
the results of his work by the plates in Whittier's "Poems of Nature,"
issued as a special holiday volume the present season. The pictures vary
in merit, but they all show what the skilled workman is capable of doing
with block and graver.
Here is another volume of the season, an exquisite edition of "The
Favorite Poems" of Jean Ingelow, from which we copy two pictures as
admirably illustrating a phase of wood-engraving especially pleasing and
attractive. The first, from "Songs of Seven," has the advantage of being
a charming subject in itself, but the engraver has been as conscientious
in his work as if he had no such aid, and the result is doubly
satisfying to the eye. The other, from "The High Tide on the Coast of
Lincolnshire," is equally gratifying and artistic.
[Illustration: THE SILENT CHRISTMAS.
[Wonderful Christmases.]]
RICHARD AND GAMALIEL WAYTE, AND SOME OF THEIR DESCENDANTS.
BY ARTHUR THOMAS LOVELL.
The records of Boston, beginning with the year 1633, and for many years
thereafter, contain frequent references to Richard and Gamaliel Wayte,
brothers, born in England, the former in the year 1596, and the latter
in the year 1598. A writer in the _Boston Transcript_ (Dec. 6, 1874)
makes the ancestry of these brothers common with that of Thomas Wayte,
who was a member of the English Parliament in Cromwell's time, one of
the judges who condemned Charles the First to death, and who signed the
warrant for his execution. Be this as it may, the records show that the
brothers Richard and Gamaliel were admitted to the church in Boston in
1634 and 1633 respectively, thus establishing the fact of their
residence here at that early date. Tracing their history
chronologically, the name of Gamaliel, the younger brother, appears
first on the list of Freemen, in 1635. Nov. 30, 1637, he was disarmed
because of his sympathy with the views of Mr. Wheelwright and Mrs. Anne
Hutchinson. His occupation is inferred from the fact that in company
with other fishermen he petitioned the court at Salem, Oct. 14, 1657,
"for exemption from training in the fishing season." In 1670 he received
from the General Court a grant of a half acre of land in Boston, on the
south side of "Sentry Hill," to plant and improve; and in 1673 he was
part owner of Long Island in Boston Harbor. Mention is made in 1677 of
his son John, his daughter Deborah, and his grandchildren Ebenezer and
Richard Price, the children of his daughter Grace. From an entry in the
diary of Judge Sewell it is learned that he died suddenly, Dec. 9, 1685,
aged 87 years.