Project Show and Tell

By Patricia Houghton Conly Time is precious when it comes to preserving your family history and memories. Old photographs and documents provide clues about our past and what life was…

Born to Command

Addison W. Preston’s Call to Arms

By Mark R. Moore

Ver­mont Asso­ciate and archivist at the Danville VT His­tor­i­cal Society
Pre­ston in full dress uniform

How many times do we wish his­to­ry would come alive for us? The sweat of bod­ies and hors­es, the ting, clink and clang of accou­ter­ments , the deep glow and scent of bur­nished leather, shin­ing brass but­tons, the glint of bul­lion gold braid on sleeves and shoul­ders in the bright sun­light, pass­ing through a nat­ur­al arch­way of fra­grant lilac. Walt Whit­man put obser­va­tions like this into verse:

…the head of my cav­al­ry parad­ing on spir­it­ed horses,
With sabres drawn and glis­ten­ing, and car­bines by their thighs, (ah, my brave horsemen!
My hand­some tan-faced horse­men! what life, what joy and pride,
With all the per­ils were yours.)

This was undoubt­ed­ly the spir­it that then Cap­tain Addi­son Web­ster Pre­ston of Danville con­veyed to star­ry-eyed new enlis­tees as he recruit­ed them into Com­pa­ny D of the 1st Ver­mont Cav­al­ry in 1862. Here at the Danville His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety we have Addi­son Preston’s blue wool dress uni­form, his dress pants, his boots, car­tridge box, horse’s hal­ter, flask and McClel­lan saddle.

More impor­tant­ly, I think, we have a pho­to­graph of him at around the age of 33 that con­veys his image—his thin­ning hair is swept back, his mus­tache is fierce, his eyes are fiery and he grasps his sabre’s hilt as if ready to draw it and smite the enemy.

He was pro­mot­ed to Lt. Colonel by 1863 and com­mand­ed the entire 1st Ver­mont Cav­al­ry. Quot­ing from Joseph D. Col­lea, Jr’s book The First Ver­mont Cav­al­ry in the Civ­il War, upon his death the Ver­mont Record wrote, “Colonel Pre­ston was char­ac­ter­ized by quick­ness of per­cep­tion, thought and action which made him what he was as a sol­dier and an offi­cer. He nev­er found exact­ly his right place til he went into the army…Col. Pre­ston might not have achieved so sig­nal a suc­cess as he did in war. He was a born sol­dier, and found that out when the coun­try sound­ed the call to arms.”

But this does not mean he failed to attend to the needs of his men or their fam­i­lies. The record is replete with let­ters writ­ten by him to wid­ows and the Gov­ern­ment Pen­sion Board detail­ing a trooper’s last ill­ness or his hero­ism in bat­tle. His after-bat­tle reports are suc­cinct in con­trast to the dra­mat­ic accounts he sent back to the papers in Vermont.

His per­son­al let­ters to his younger broth­er, William Hen­ry Pre­ston (future Prin­ci­pal- 1867–1870- of Danville Acad­e­my), shows he also con­tin­ued to be atten­tive to mat­ters at home. In let­ters housed at the Kitchel Cen­ter, Fair­banks Muse­um, and tran­scribed by Lynn Bon­field, the read­er wit­ness­es his direct and com­mand­ing style.

Hen­ry

I have writ­ten to B. N Davis to day and I wish you to keep your eye out for Col Sawyer and also one Sgt Mitchel of Co D when he took home with him. Say to Esq Davis to look sharp for the Col. I fear he will try to injure me in Vt if you hear of it let me know. Are you going to teach this win­ter or study a profession?

How much did you make last fall…

Remem­ber Ener­gy is what can grow. I will write you often on this subject…

Addi­son”

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A Visit to Aspet

One of the most famous of the Saint-Gau­dens’ sculp­tures is of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, a white com­man­der, lead­ing the all-black 54th Mass­a­chu­setts regiment.
By Paul Chouinard, Pres­i­dent of the Danville His­tor­i­cal Society
 
On Sun­day, July 12th, Bernadette and I, along with friends, ven­tured south along the Con­necti­cut Riv­er to Wind­sor, VT where we crossed the Con­necti­cut over VT’s longest cov­ered bridge. Our des­ti­na­tion was the Saint-Gau­dens estate, Aspet. This Nation­al His­toric Site is locat­ed in Cor­nish, N.H. on Route 12A. Our plan was to enjoy a pic­nic on the lawn of the estate, locat­ed on a hill, high above the Con­necti­cut Riv­er, over­look­ing Mount Ascut­ney in the dis­tance. We enjoyed our pic­nic while lis­ten­ing to a cham­ber con­cert by Rogers & Mil­li­can per­form­ing the music of Johann Nepo­muk Hum­mel. The mag­nif­i­cent peren­ni­al gar­dens and the sounds of nature pro­vid­ed a per­fect atmosphere.
 

Augus­tus Saint-Gau­dens, some­times known as the Amer­i­can Michelan­ge­lo, was among the fore­most sculp­tors of the late nine­teenth and ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. He arrived in Cor­nish in 1885. He rent­ed an old inn for the sum­mer and over time he adapt­ed the house to his needs and con­vert­ed the barn into a stu­dio. He ulti­mate­ly pur­chased the prop­er­ty and con­tin­ued to sum­mer there until 1892, when it became his year-round home. Over the years he trans­formed the prop­er­ty into a cen­ter for artists and intel­lec­tu­als of the peri­od, who formed what has become known as the “Cor­nish Colony.” The Colony includ­ed: painters Max­field Par­rish, Thomas Dew­ing, George de For­est Bush, Lucia Fuller, and Keny­on Cox; drama­tist Per­cy Mac-Kaye; Amer­i­can nov­el­ist Win­ston Churchill; archi­tect Charles Platt; and sculp­tors Paul Man­ship, Her­bert Adams, and Louis Saint- Gau­dens, broth­er of Augus­tus. They cre­at­ed a dynam­ic social envi­ron­ment, cen­tered around Saint-Gaudens.

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All Hell Breaks Loose: Vermonters Get Down to the Business

Civil­ian observers at the Bat­tle of Bull Run

By Gary Far­row, Mem­ber of the Danville VT His­tor­i­cal Society

One hun­dred and fifty years ago this month saw the Union reel­ing from the first major bat­tle of the Civ­il War; riot­ing over seces­sion­ists in New Eng­land; and a spate of activ­i­ty in Ver­mont and the North­east King­dom devot­ed to mar­shal­ing the troops.

The out­come of Bull Run, fought Sun­day July 21, shook every­one from their naive slum­ber. Gen­er­al McDowell’s 30,000 Union troops marched the 30 miles west of Wash­ing­ton DC to attack an equal num­ber of Con­fed­er­ate troops. Some gov­ern­ment dig­ni­taries decid­ed to make a day of it and go and see the bat­tle for themselves.

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Through A Glass Darkly

How glass plate technology met high Tech

By Mark R. Moore
 
A fine lady in a hat out for a drive.

His­to­ry in Danville is more than smelly, mildewed books full of dates and records of live birth and dead molder­ing bones. Most peo­ple in the Unit­ed States live in sleek, shiny, mod­ern con­nect­ed metrop­o­lis­es where the pejo­ra­tive phrase “What have you done for me late­ly?” sym­bol­izes both the imme­di­ate lack of car­ing and super­fi­cial con­nec­tions as opposed to what we have here in Danville. It’s what I would call “wear­able his­to­ry” here. Your best friend might be relat­ed to the street you live on (was be a Brain­erd, it might be Green­bank Hol­low, the res­i­dence you live in might have been known for a hun­dred years as Dr. Smith’s House or, pos­si­bly, the Pet­tengill farm. The hill you can see might be Roy Moun­tain and you find there’s an eigh­teen year old Roy on Face­book. Strangest of all, that per­son, by and large, can, if asked, quick­ly trace their lin­eage direct­ly back to why that house, hill or road was named for a per­son in their fam­i­ly, not because the fact was drilled into them at school, but because they have a ret­i­cent North­east King­dom nob­less oblige (broad­ly defined-defer­ring to a per­son because of their family’s past his­to­ry past)and sim­ply grew up with a sto­ry in their past and is left for you, the present, to dis­cov­er how the past appel­la­tion became attached to the house or hol­low. Recent­ly, I was pre­sent­ed with a group of dif­fer­ent sized, dark, appar­ent­ly smoky glass pho­to­graph­ic neg­a­tives that had been in encased a shoe­box in a cel­lar for near­ly hun­dred years before they saw the light of day and asked to dis­cov­er what rela­tion, if any they have to Danville.

The box of glass neg­a­tives was brought to me by His­tor­i­cal Har­ri­et. Har­ri­et is always going through our store of arti­facts and likes to sur­prise me with her lat­est dis­cov­ery and see what I will do with it. Before want­i­ng to delve into the box and see how His­tor­i­cal Har­ri­et would adapt avail­able mod­ern tech­nol­o­gy to solve to solve the prob­lem of get­ting a pic­ture from an old, dark chem­i­cal­ly coat­ed neg­a­tive I did some research on the his­to­ry of glass plates. Short­ly after Louis Daguerre and William Hen­ry Fox Tal­bot pio­neered the daguerreo­type in 1839 which were print­ed on sil­ver-plat­ed cop­per or brass. Fred­er­ick Scott Archer, an Eng­lish sculp­tor, expand­ed their dis­cov­er­ies the dis­cov­er­ies of Daguerre and Tal­bot and came out with the wet glass plate know as the wet col­lo­di­on neg­a­tive. Because it was coat­ed glass and not paper the wet glass neg­a­tives cre­at­ed a sharp­er, more detailed neg­a­tive and could pro­duce more than one print from a neg­a­tive but this had to be done with­in five minutes.

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In Search of House Roots–The Varney House

 By Mary Barlow

In 2005 we decid­ed to move to Ver­mont. We start­ed look­ing in our price range in many towns from Ran­dolph to Bar­ton but final­ly set­tled on Danville as a friend­ly, beau­ti­ful place to con­cen­trate our efforts. After look­ing at 40 houses–some new, some old, some ren­o­vat­ed, some not so good–we rec­og­nized that we want­ed a house that was old, with good “bones,”and afford­able for us to renovate/restore and make our own. On Decem­ber 16, 2005, in one of the biggest snows of the win­ter, we bought our house in North Danville vil­lage and began the process of fix­ing it up.

Our first vis­i­tor was our neigh­bor from across the road, Ger­ard Lamothe, who wel­comed us and told us about the com­mu­ni­ty orga­ni­za­tions: the Com­mu­ni­ty Club, the School Asso­ci­a­tion and the His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety, all housed in the old North Danville School just up the road. We joined the Com­mu­ni­ty Club and soon heard about the Old House Com­mit­tee. Here we learned the basics of prop­er­ty research.

The approach nor­mal­ly used is to work back­wards from the cur­rent own­er to the one pri­or and so forth. The Danville Town Clerk’s office has a card file that cross ref­er­ences Grantor (sell­er) and Grantee (buy­er) with the book and page num­ber where the deed is filed. The books with all the deeds, quit claims, mort­gages and pro­bate court doc­u­ments from Danville going back to before the char­ter of Danville (which was signed in 1802) are there for your research.

As one fol­lows the own­er­ship back in time, prop­er­ties were divid­ed, joined, and descrip­tions are not eas­i­ly rec­og­nized (using stake and stone mark­ers, trees, and fences, etc ). If prop­er­ty was inher­it­ed and the pro­bate was not filed in Danville, fur­ther research may take you to St Johns­bury or to old Orange Coun­ty records. Fad­ed ink, cen­turies old writ­ing and no longer used words made for time-con­sum­ing read­ing and some­times required the use of a mag­ni­fy­ing glass.

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War Becomes a Reality

Going to See the Elephant, July 1861

By Paul Chouinard, Pres­i­dent of the Danville His­tor­i­cal Society

Editor’s Note: “Going to see the ele­phant” was an expres­sion used by enlis­tees to the Union Army describ­ing the expe­ri­ence of coun­try boys going off to war where they would expe­ri­ence life in ways they could not have imagined.
 
 
With the Capi­tol at Wash­ing­ton under threat of inva­sion by the Con­fed­er­ate Army, Union sol­diers trans­port the Unit­ed States Gov­ern­men­t’s stan­dard weights and mea­sures to St. Johns­bury for safe­keep­ing. Cap­tion and illus­tra­tion from the book Pio­neers In Indus­try Fair­banks, Morse & Co.
July of 1861 marked a turn­ing point. War became a grim real­i­ty with major bat­tles fought, result­ing in seri­ous injuries and loss of life. Men returned home bear­ing the phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal scars of war. Gen­er­al­ly, the real­i­ty of war did not hit home until news of local casu­al­ties arrived. The first Danville casu­al­ty was Charles D. Cook, who was just sev­en­teen years old when he died in the hos­pi­tal at Camp Grif­fin, Vir­ginia, of typhoid fever in Novem­ber of 1861. The opti­mism which had pre­vailed at the out­set of the war, regard­ing the fact that union forces would quick­ly tri­umph, began to fade.

Accord­ing to Susan­nah Clif­ford in Vil­lage In the Hills: “There was at least one fam­i­ly in Danville that had rel­a­tives fight­ing on both sides of the bat­tle lines, but in this par­tic­u­lar case kin­ship proved stronger than patri­o­tism. James Davis, son of Bliss Davis, was the only known Danville sol­dier to see the war from the Con­fed­er­ate side. James went west at age eigh­teen to live with his uncle in Ohio and then moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to study med­i­cine. When the war broke out in 1861, he joined the Con­fed­er­ate ser­vice as an assis­tant sur­geon of the Sev­enth Louisiana Reg­i­ment and lat­er became full sur­geon. He served through­out the war and was present at all the major bat­tles in north­ern Vir­ginia. James cousin, Alexan­der, who was with the Union army, was wound­ed at the bat­tle at Savage’s Sta­tion, cap­tured by the Con­fed­er­ate army and sent to Ander­son­ville Prison. While in prison, Alexan­der learned that his cousin was in Rich­mond, and he wrote to James to let him know of his sit­u­a­tion. James imme­di­ate­ly set to get­ting Alexan­der exchanged and even fur­nished him with trans­porta­tion back to his regiment.”

On the home front, local farm­ers and horse breed­ers in Danville helped fur­nish the cav­al­ry with fine hors­es. Danville’s Meri­no Sheep and Greenbank’s woolen mill con­tributed to the war effort, as did most oth­er tex­tile mills in New Eng­land, by pro­vid­ing woolen broad­cloth for the pro­duc­tion of blan­kets and uni­forms. In the autumn of 1861, Greenbank’s mill received fed­er­al con­tracts to man­u­fac­ture woolen broad­cloth for uniforms.

A pair of stir­rups made in Fair­banks fac­to­ry for use by Union cav­al­ry­men in the Civ­il War. Cap­tion and pho­to­graph from Pio­neers in Indus­try Fair­banks, Morse & Co.

Ear­ly in 1861, with the city of Wash­ing­ton in grave dan­ger, the offi­cial stan­dard weights of the Unit­ed States Gov­ern­ment were moved to St. Johns­bury for safe­keep­ing. E. and T. Fair­banks and Co. began the man­u­fac­ture of brass stir­rups and brass trim­mings for the North­ern cav­al­ry, as well as of artillery har­ness irons and curb bits. In addi­tion the offi­cials of the New York branch of E. and T. Fair­banks helped Gov­er­nor Eras­tus Fair­banks secure sup­plies for both infantry and cav­al­ry of the Ver­mont regiments.

THE NORTH STAR, July 13, 1861

THE PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

It rec­om­mends that Con­gress pro­vide, by legal means, for “mak­ing this con­test a short and deci­sive one;” and the Pres­i­dent asks that body to pass an act to raise 400,000 men, and $400,000,000. to pros­e­cute the work. Should Con­gress grant it, we trust the great pow­er thus con­ferred, will be wise­ly used, in crush­ing rebel­lion, and giv­ing to this mighty con­flict a strict­ly nation­al and Union-restor­ing character.

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