Memorial of Joseph and Lucy Clark Allen

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Preface

'T^HE one-hundredth anniversary of the birth of ^ Joseph Allen, August 15, 1890, brought together a family gathering at his old home in Northborough, at which were read sketches of his life prepared chiefly for the grandchildren. With some changes, these form the earlier and the concluding portions of this volume. With letters and other memoranda of our father and mother the record is continued to the end.

It is seldom that two lives pass on in such an unbroken course together for so many years ; for, though many changes came, their home remained the centre still for all the scattered family. By a succession of circumstances or perhaps by a special adaptation in themselves, it had also been the home, from first to last, of more than two hundred persons in many varieties of relations, and for periods of months or years, — for such they wished to make it to all who entered its doors.

To select that which should give the best picture of the varied life in the quiet town has been our

VI PREFACE

aim ; and our hope is that to their old friends this record of our parents' lives may prove a pleasant reminder of the days that are gone.

£• W. A« Northborough, Massachusetts^ January i, 1891.

Contents

Pack

I. Joseph Allen, i

II. Lucy Clark Ware, 29

I. Joseph Allen

"Children's children are the crown of old men, and the glory of children are their fathers."

THE year 1790 is a date that does not seem so very far away. One person in our own family connection, still living, was born in that year, and others we have known whose lives went back many years before that date. But these hundred years have covered a very important period of history. France, England, and our own country were passing through great crises, which seemed to overwhelm all smaller interests. Yet the pictures which come to us from poets and story-tellers of life apart from the great world and in quieter scenes give us a broader view, and the life in a small New England town is not less significant than others. In one of the prettiest and oldest of these towns, Medfield, this year gave life to a little boy whose career is of special interest to us ; and, for the sake of his descendants, we would gather up what we can find respecting his early days.

Our father, Joseph Allen, was born August 15, 1790, on the farm bought by his ancestors from the Indians in 1649, and still occupied by their descendants.* A little sister had preceded him, who died at the age of seven, but whose sweet memory was never allowed to die out of the afiEectionate family circle. One sister and five brothers came after him ; and, with the exception of the little sister mentioned, no one of the band passed from this life before reaching the age of fourscore, and all but one with mental powers unimpaired. The old homestead, through all changes, continued to gather them at intervals with children and children's children.

His grandfather, Noah (1719-1804), whom he well remembered in his old age, was a man of mark in the town, having held a king's commission as lieutenant in the colonial militia, and the first of the family who was spoken of in public records by "the grand old name of gentleman." He was a man of large frame and extraordinary bodily strength, a stalwart wrestler and a formidable antagonist. He once offered to match himself in "tug of war" against a pair of farm horses, bracing himself against the barn-sill ; but the rope (a new cart rope) broke, and the contest was declared drawn. A later exploit was to vault over a cow, when past the age of eighty. In an inventory of his effects occurs the following item: "one Great Bibble, 3.50; Sundry other Books, 50 cts." — which shows how little the

*Tlie family was apparently from Norfolk, England, from which, it is likely, came many colonists of Norfolk, Massachusetts. Castle Hill, a low wooded and stony eminence, which gives the name to the Medfield homestead, was so called from a camp of surveyors, who conveyed it to the family in acknowledgment of hospitalities received.

fine qualities of that day were indebted to school learning.

The father, Phineas Allen (1764-1836), was a prosperous farmer, open-hearted, quick-tempered, hospitable, kindly in his dealings with his fellow-men, and without his father's mighty stature. He had enlisted in the Revolutionary Army at the age of sixteen, and shared the hardships of those trying times. The grandchildren who lived in the house with him in after years remember how he liked to have them about him, and to tell them the stories of his own experiences, or the traditions handed down in the family from still earlier times, when the terror of attack from the Indians hung over every village. He used to tell how, under King Philip in 1676, on their way from Marlboro to Medfield, which they laid in ashes, the Indians threw shavings from the coop- . er's shop, which gave to the household part of its winter occupation, into the low window of the house, set them on fire, and then hurried to the village. Fortunately, the shavings fell upon a trap-door leading into the cellar. The door fell into the cellar, and the fire was extinguished without further harm. Thirty-two houses in the town were burned.

Their mother, Ruth Smith, — quiet, frugal, indefatigably industrious, and benevolent less from warm impulse, like her husband, than from high principle, — was a true helpmeet, never questioning the duty that lay before her. The children were brought up in habits of self-respect, helpfulness, and religious reverence. The boys were taught to shield their mother and sister from hard or exposing work, such as often falls to the lot of women in a new country. This habit went far to develop the affection which bound them together through their long lives. The life in their native town was not hard and bare, as in some parts of New England, where sterner religious views prevailed. Their minister was Rev. Dr. Prentiss, a man of broad and generous mind, of thorough education and free from theological trammels, whose whole aim was the higher life of his people. Deeply religious, as all respectable New Englanders then were, it was happily a religion of character that was set before them, to influence their whole lives. Among the recreations of village life, the dances and other social gatherings, the source of greatest enjoyment was the singing-school, taught in the long winter evenings. There they were well taught to sing by note the old psalmody so strange to us now ; but, besides this, their love of music was re-enforced by a store of old Scotch and English songs and ballads. These probably came down by tradition ; and many of them were of the quaintest, others of the most pathetic description.

The outward life in the old home was simple and primitive, like that of the period generally, but with elements picturesque and pleasing, which have been so well described by some New England writers. But modes of living are a small part of what we remember of our friends : personal traits are what remain impressed on our minds. To us there seems no great gulf between our lives and those of a century ago, as the different generations of the family have kept up so frequent intercourse. Energetic, kindly, and open-hearted they were, with a certain mental alertness and readiness to receive new ideas, so that, with diEEerent degrees of ardor, they have taken part in the various movements of the time, moral, theological, and social. A little record of the brothers and sister who so often gathered with our father at the old homestead, and who all survived him, does not seem out of place here, as showing something of the " significance of life in a small New England town."

Of the second son, Ellis, father of the well-known colony of teachers in West Newton, who died at the age of eighty-two, the following was written : —

While constantly supervising and working upon the farm with his sons, he yet interested himself in all the great questions of the lime, — anti-slavery, temperance, peace, the enfranchisement of women, education, and others. His venerable head, with his erect form and elastic step, was seen in nearly all conventions of the advocates of the reforms of the day, in eastern Massachusetts. It has been said of him that he was a true type of the Scotch Covenanters from whom he descended,* with the enlightened and elevating influences of two and a half centuries added. His honored and dearly loved friend, William Lloyd Garrison, wrote of him : " I shall always hold him in remembrance as one of the tried and true of the old Guard of Freedom, whose feet were planted upon the Everlasting Rock, whose faith and courage never faltered as to the ultimate triumph of the righteous cause. That triumph he happily lived to witness with the joy and thankfulness of Simeon of old, and towards its achievement he did his part by his example, testimony, and works."

* Probably an error ; as the moat trustworthy account traces the family to the shire of Norfolk, England.

His wife, Lucy Lane, was a woman of brilliant natural gifts, in particular a rare capacity for teaching, which showed itself very early in life, and an undaunted cheerfulness of spirit, which carried her buoyantly through many a change of circumstance. She became a very dear younger sister to our mother, and the two families were drawn in various ways nearer together than is common with such cousinly groups. She survived her golden wedding by more than twenty-five years, with mental faculty always fresh, eagerly interested in all things new and good, a favorite companion to the young, and with physical powers almost unimpaired, till within a few days of her death, which was just before her ninety-sixth birthday (June, 1889).

Another brother, Asa, removed with his family, early in life, to western New York, where he and they encountered many hardships : —

Carrying with him his New England habits of industry and perseverance, he soon had a small farm cleared, and rejoiced in waving fields of wheat and corn. With true Yankee versatility and power of adapting himself to surrounding circumstances, he taught school during the winter months, conducted services on Sundays, taught singing schools, and soon was acknowledged as a leading citizen in every good work. In civil affairs he was no less prominent, — a moderator at all meetings of citizens, assessor, town clerk, captain of a military company, justice of the peace, and finally county treasurer and judge of a county court. . . . Finally, he retired from his honorable and influential position to devote himself to the ministry. Those knowing the self-sacrifice, the unceasing toil, the unrequited labors this change would involve, as well as the mere pittance Ihey would receive, in that sparsely settled region, can well see that nothing but the most conscientious devotion to duty could have prompted such a course.

During part of his early life he had been brought up among relatives who held doctrines more nearly Calvinistic than the rest of the family ; and these he adopted and retained through life, though modified by a genial disposition and kindly affections. He went farther and farther west at intervals, lived for some years in south-western Wisconsin, and spent his last years as missionary in Iowa, where his experience as he travelled over his scattered parish in the severest weather, even up to near the age of eighty, would furnish many a characteristic picture of that frontier life. He died November 7, 1876, in his eightieth year, being up to that time minister of three congregations, and county superintendent of schools.

Another brother, Phineas, a graduate of Harvard in 1825, is described as

A modest and unostentatious man, a representative of the old-fashioned pedagogue, a man whose every thought seemed to be given to the pursuit or giving of knowledge, deeply impressed with the importance and responsibility of his calling, as regular as the sun, and the personification of faithfulness. His varied and accurate scholarship was at the service of every inquiring mind. Thoroughly conversant with the ancient languages, as with French and Spanish, he was also an excellent teacher in the common and higher English branches and mathematics.

No pleasure was so great to him as that of teaching ; and he was able to continue it with unabated zeal to within four days of his death. He died May 25, 1885, at the age of eighty-three.

The youngest brother, Noah, still lives, past the age of eighty, close by the ancestral farm in Medfield.

The only sister, Abigail, was a pretty child, gay and fair-complexioned, — " Deacon Phinny's white pullet," as the neighbors pettingly called her, — leader in the village choir, and a dear friend and helper to her neighborhood. Her gayety of heart never failed her, and long past eighty she would be called on to repeat the quaint songs of her early days, or she would walk in the snow a long mile to and from the village meeting-house. She was married at nineteen to Gershom Adams, and remained in Medfield through her life. Good sense, a cheerful spirit, keen and active interest in all that concerned the welfare of the town, made her a valued member of the community through the many years of her life. She died October 12, 1889, one week after her ninetieth birthday, which had been celebrated by a family gathering at the old homestead, followed by another meeting of friends and neighbors at the church in her honor, — a beautiful closing up of her long life amongst them.

Description of the Old Homestead^ written by Joseph Allen for the Golden Wedding of his Eldest Brother.

It was a large, unpainted house, of two stories, with a large chimney in the middle, the only ornament being a Doric scroll over the front door. Near the house was the well, with its curb and sweep and " moss-covered bucket,"

near which stood the large horse-block, from the top of which we mounted the old bay mare, — father on the saddle, mother on the pillion behind, and one of us boys, without saddle or pillion, riding before, astride the neck of the patient and good-natured beast, that without complaint bore her precious load to the village church, something more than a mile distant. To the north of the well and horse-block was a grass plot and garden, with peachtrees, etc. Our father married at the age of twenty-three, Oct. 22, 1787, Ruth, second daughter of Asa Smith of Walpole (then only eighteen years old), to whose affectionate solicitude, and untiring labors, and watchful, tender care, we owe a debt of gratitude that we can never repay, and for which her children rise up and call her blessed, [i 769-1832.]

We take a melancholy pleasure in recalling and recounting the pains taken by our honored parents to instil into our youthful minds good principles, the love of truth, reverence for things sacred, to bring us up in habits of industry and sobriety, to encourage us in our desire to gain knowledge.

Our father well remembered seeing seventeen Indians come out of the barn one morning, where they had lodged by our grandfather s permission, and then came to the house to receive a breakfast from our grandmother. These were the same Indians spoken of by Mrs. Stowe in "Oldtown Folks." As later in the West, it was the custom then in New England never to refuse to lodge or feed an Indian ; and no ungrateful advantage of this was taken by the uninvited guests, who claimed it not aggressively, but as a matter of course.

To fill out these memories of the old homestead, lO MEMORIAL

we append the following verses, written on occasion of the Golden Wedding of Gershom and Abigail Adams, November 12, 1868: —

7*he Old House as her Niece Mary remembers it : To my Aunt, on her Golden Wedding.

I remember, I remember, — it is years and years ago, —

The old brown house ; the meadow, where the river ran below ;

The old elm-trees ; the old gray bam ; that old red horse the

while, Behind whose honest flanks I rode full many a dusty mile ; The old oak bucket in the well ; the clear, cold draughts it

drew; Those sunny rooms, so snug and low, and hospitable, too ; The quaint old kitchen, neat as wax; the bright old hickory

blaze ; The old wide-throated chimney-place, that warmed those good

old days ; The pots and kettles on the crane; the doughnuts simmering

there.

While by tJie firelight sat " old Gran'ther Adams " in his

chair ; The comfortable settle and the chimney-comer seat, Where George and Charley crowded in, all ruddy with the

heat; The great, uneven hearthstone, and the great old fire-dogs, — Such huge hot fires I never saw, nor such great piles of logs !

I remember, I remember, on those pleasant winter days, Before the sun above the hill could lift his earliest rays, The breakfast done, the men at work, the boys all ofiE at school, The table cleared, the kitchen swept, I took my little stool, — Then such a nice and cosey day, there by my dear aunt's side. While songs she sang, and stories told, and busy fingers plied. The day was never weary, from late sun to early shade ; And very proud was I to finish ten straw yards of braid !

JOSEPH ALLEN II

The storm might beat, with wind and sleet, against the window-panes ;

The snow might drift, all wild and swift, along the narrow lanes :

But, safe from storm, so bright and warm and merrily went the day ;

And fast my winter visit passed, — too doon it passed away.

I remember, I remember, then, the glorious baking-days :

The great round oven, roaring hot, the pitchy pine-wood

blaze, — An oven big enough to hold five dozen loaves of bread — None of the little iron boxes now we see instead ! Fifteen great sticks we burnt to coal, then swept the coals all

out; Then earthen pots and baking-pans distributed about, As thick as ever they could stand on that vast oven floor ; Well banked with embers, glowing hot, the heavy iron door. That opened when the work was done ; and there, all steam*

ing, lay The fragrant, hot, and wholesome spoils of that triumphant

day: The great brown crusty loaves, the flaky mince and apple pies, And custards, sweet and delicate, that met our hungry eyes. Of all the dainties e*er I saw, those were the daintiest ; Of all good things, I always loved Aunt Abigail's the best. Unless it was Aunt Lucy's,— for I never quite could tell Whose table I was fondest of, I loved them both so well ! And, when, from one house to the other, either way I passed. As nearly as I recollect I always chose the last !

The group of cousins, once so near, in life are scattered wide, As cares and gains and toils and pains with years are multiplied.

All the more precious to our hearts the love that changes not, The pleasant memories that crown this hospitable spot. The glad reminder of old times, the hope that ever cheers, The comforts and the cares that wove these fifty golden years !

When our father was six years old, he was placed on the master's desk at school, to " recite a piece," which he did with so much energy that, when he came down, the schoolmaster patted him on the head, and told him he must be a minister. From that time the idea' remained in his mind; and, though he contentedly did his share of the farm-work with his brothers, he was not thwarted in his desire, but at a suitable age began his preparations under the care of the minister, and entered Harvard at the age of seventeen. In New England, as in Scotland, learning and religion were the two things held in highest esteem ; and any boy who showed a love of study was encouraged to aim at the highest attainment within reach, through whatever hardship or poverty. In this case, the advantages of one were shared in full measure with all, and the various events of the student life brought interest and entertainment to all the home circle. Two brothers afterwards graduated at Harvard.

Our father did not inherit the great physical strength for which the family had been noted, and was smaller than his brothers, though of active and sinewy frame, and his light, elastic step and figure remained through eighty years little changed. At college he gained the respect and confidence of all who knew him. Of very good ability, he was scholarly in tastes and habits, and kept through life a special fondness for the classics. Much of his diary, begun in his Freshman year, was written in Latin, as also his correspondence with his classmates. No careless or imperfect work was al-

JOSEPH ALLEN I 3

lowed in himself. It was for delight of learning that he studied ; and the good common sense which was one of his strongest qualities led him to just judgment, and counterbalanced a warmth of temperament which gave a perennial enthusiasm in whatever he undertook. His college room-mate was Thomas Prentiss, the minister's son ; and they remained most warmly attached friends till the death of Prentiss, just after being settled over the Harvard Church in Charlestown (1817).

During the winter vacations, as was customary among the students until a much later date, he taught school in some country town. The young student teachers received much social attention, and were invited incessantly to parties, — generally cardparties, — ending with a generous supper. He joined in these without thought, as is the manner of youth; but it was not the recreation needed by one whose days were spent in teaching. At the close of the season he made up his mind that it should be the end of such things for him. He never touched cards again. To him they were an entire waste of time, and he did not crave the resource they might be in times of weariness or enforced leisure. It was characteristic of him that he did not forbid them to us, but simply let them alone.

We add here a few pages from his college reminiscences : —

I began to study Latin at the district school, when I was about twelve, under Master Thayer and Master Fiske. In the autumn of 1805 there was a grand Muster and Review in Medfield, which brought together a great number of people from the neighboring towns. As I was witnessing the manceuvres of the soldiers, I found myself standing by the side of a pleasant-looking lad of about my age, who was an entire stranger to me. We soon began a conversation, which resulted in an inquiry as to each other's purposes and plans. This lad was George Morey, son of the minister of Walpolc. We found that our plans for the future corresponded in almost every particular. We both wished to go to college, and thought it would be pleasant for us both to pursue our preparatory studies in concert. Before we parted, we agreed to ask leave of our parents to attend the same school the coming winter, — in Walpole. . . . Our parents consented, and we met again at the opening of the school, which was kept by a Mr. Metcalf, a student of Brown University. There we began Virgil, for which neither had made suitable preparation. But we were in earnest, and determined to master all difficulties, and by dint of hard study for six hours we mastered, or thought we did, the first eleven lines of the ^neid.

We did not get much help from the teacher, whose time was taken up with the care of a large school. But he was ready to help us all that he could, and heard our lessons at his boarding-house, out of school hours. The school continued about three months, at the expiration of which time I returned home to labor on the farm a few months longer. About the first of September began my studies, under the direction of Rev. Dr. Prentiss, who kept a school for boys in his own house. I had for my schoolmates William P. Mason, and his cousin, Thomas Perkins, from Boston, and Thomas Prentiss, son of my minister, all of whom entered college at the same time with myself, and graduated in the same year (i8ii). Besides these there were several younger boys, — Jonathan Mason, Jr., John Gray Rogers, and three

JOSEPH ALLEN I 5

sons of Philip Schuyler, of New York, — John, Robert, and Stephen.

I now began to study in earnest, and soon took up the Greek Grammar, followed by the Collectarua Minora^ continuing my Latin lessons at the same time. The winter passed very pleasantly in study and recreation. Spring came on, and found us pretty well advanced in our studies, but with much yet to be done. At length, as the time for examination drew near, we became somewhat nervously anxious lest we should fail at the great trial. Our good teacher and guardian accompanied us to Cambridge the day after Commencement. We passed that night at the hospitable mansion of Mr. Nathaniel Prentiss, looking forward with some anxiety to the next day. At six o'clock, the bell roused us from sleep, and in obedience to its summons we hastened to Harvard Hall, in front of which was gathered a goodly company of boys and young men, about sixty in all. We were called for in squads of six or eight in each, and directed where to find the examining committee. The examination continued through the day, and we retired to our rooms at night quite fatigued with the day's work. The next morning at a late hour we were again summoned to Harvard Hall, and went in squads, as we were sent for, to meet the College Government assembled in the Philosophy Room to announce to us our respective sentences. With a feeling of awe and with fear and trembling we approached the venerable President, seated at the head of the table. My name was called first, as being first in alphabetical order. I advanced, and the President handed me, greatly to my relief, an Admittatur. I retired, and another and another followed, and so on. . . .

At the time of our entering college, while some of our number were full-grown men, others were quite young, ony thirteen or fourteen years old, as Everett, Reynolds

(Dr. Edward Reynolds, the well-known oculist of Boston), Frothingham, and Lane (Judge Lane, of Ohio). Everett and Reynolds were very youthful in their appearance, both with hair inclining to red, and falling in graceful ringlets over their shoulders, and the wide collars turned back, after the fashion of boys' dresses of those days.

I removed with my chum, at the beginning of the Senior year, to the north-west room of Stoughton Hall, third story, where the library of the ^. B. K. was kept, and became librarian. After Thanksgiving I went to Waltham to take charge of the North School. I had a large and very pleasant school, in which were many excellent scholars, to whom,* as I kept the school two terms, I became warmly attached. I had more than sixty pupils in all. The number increased the following winter to eighty-four. As many of the children lived at a distance from school, it was the practice to have but one session, beginning at lo and closing at 2 p.m., — a practice which I should be glad to have introduced into all our district winter schools in country towns. It would be more convenient certainly for most parents, and I am satisfied that it could be effected without detriment to the scholar.

My time was spent there four months very pleasantly, both in school and among the families of the district. We had frequent social parties, more social games and free conversation, and much less feasting and playing cards than where I kept school before.

I returned to Cambridge about the ist of March, and resumed my studies, which grew less difficult and more interesting than those of the former years.

At length preparation must be made for terminating our college life. There had been some rivalry among those who ranked highest as scholars, especially between the first two. In the opinion of the class, and I presume of the College Government, Everett far outstripped all competitors in the race. He was first in the Classics, first in Metaphysics, first in the Belles-lettres, beyond all comparison the best writer and the best scholar. The first oration was assigned — nemine contradiante — to Edward Everett, the second to Henry H. Fuller, the third to Nathaniel L. Frothingham. This was a high honor to the class, it being the first instance in which three English orations were given to the same class for Commencement. It was our class that introduced the practice of printing an Order of Performances for the Public Exhibitions, also of having the Annual College Catalogue printed in a pamphlet form instead of on a large sheet.