The
Oldest House in One of the Oldest Towns
HOME OF GEN. MICHAEL McCLARY
AT EPSOM
HOLDS MEMORIES OF FAMOUS NEW
HAMPSHIRE MEN
By Helen A.
Parker
"Old home! Old Hearts! Upon my Soul forever
There peace
and gladness lie like tears and laughter."
Madison Cawein. Old Homes.
On a beautiful morning in the early
part of June it was my good fortune to make a pilgrimage to the home of my great-grandfather,
General Michael McClary. I had been there several times before on trips of business
or duty of one kind or another, but then my time had been limited for seeing thoroughly
the beauties of the place and letting the associations it had with my forebears
sink into my mind and become as it were a part of me. This time I was going quite
by myself with no care or worry to fret me and time enough to make the day as
long as I wanted.
I took the 9 o'clock electrics from Concord and rode through
Pembroke with its lovely scenery on each side and the cool air blowing through,
and then had a ride of about half an hour on the little old fashioned Suncook
Valley train from Blodgett, where after considerable delay of backing the engine
to attach a passenger car to the freight car, as much puffing of smoke and as
many hops off and on of the engineer to wave signals as on one of our big Western
Limiteds, we were finally off.
The scenery most of the way to Epsom is not
particularly pretty- a little so just out of Blodgett before you reach Allenstown-after
that the country is bare and uninteresting until near Epsom it begins to look
green and woodsy again, with pretty hills and farms scattered here and there with
white houses with green blinds built on them. I walked from the station from preference
as I wanted to make it a real old fashioned trip and do it in the old fashioned
way. An old man who got out of the train with me went limping along just ahead,
taking the middle of the road fearless of automobiles and wagons. If he could
walk then surely I could.
As
the way to the old McClary house is almost entirely uphill and some of it very
steep and covers a distance of three miles or more, I felt I was performing quite
a feat in these days of automobiles when it is much as ever one thinks one can
walk at all. But I felt well repaid for the effort as in all my previous trips
to Epsom I had never fully realized the beauty of this, one of New Hampshire's
oldest towns, and the especial beauty of situation of my grandfather's house in
it.
After going over a long stretch in the Gossville district, past the library
building which has been recently erected and does immense credit to the town,
the Baptist Church (the only church now), and a pretty brook where the water is
always running fresh and cool, a steep hill brings you out at the old burying
ground beyond which the road (still uphill!) goes past a number of old houses
quaint and attractive. They are built quite close together and most of them have
farms attached. After this comes a long avenue comparatively level lined each
side with tall, beautiful elm and maple trees.
It reaches a corner where the
road divides at the foot of McCoy mountain. There is a tablet there in memory
of Isabella McCoy who was captured by the Indians way back in the summer of 1747.
I always stop there and think of how she was marched way up into Canada and how
frightened she must have been and how sad she must have felt to be leaving her
family and friends. But she was more fortunate than most of her sisters of that
time in that the Indians treated her kindly and gave her apples they gathered
from an orchard nearby- one at the end of each day's journey. It is a very wierd
spot with dark thick woods, just the kind of place one can imagine such a scene
to happen as did to Mrs. McCoy.
Now for the last and steepest hill of all-like
climbing the side of a mountain-and there is the opening to the old house. It
is set in quite a way from the road on top of a high rise of ground. You hardly
notice the house at first as it is a pale gray color and surrounded on all sides
by tall trees. The opening leading to it on one side is thickly lined with lombardy
poplars and willow trees. The latter were planted by one of Gen. McClary's daughters,
my great-aunt Nancy Lord. She rode up from Portsmouth on horseback soon after
her marriage and dismounting at the foot of the lane stuck her willow whip into
the ground and from it grew the beautiful thick row of willows. On the other side
at the foot is a frog pond where frogs of all sizes from big mister bullfrog to
the tiniest baby frogs croak and splash in the water. There have been several
attempts to fill it up (for what reason I do not know), but in vain. Hence it
is thought the bottom is full of quicksand. At any rate the frogs still have it
their own way there and it is always at least wet in the driest weather. Above
the frog pond are some stout pines, quite a grove of them, and a big cluster of
honey locust trees. How beautiful and fragrant the white blossoms were this lovely
June day!
And there behind two giant elms that met at the front door stood
the old house unchanged as when I saw it last. It is painted gray and set square
and true with narrow clapboards overlapping neatly and fastened with nails every
one of them made by hand. The wood is so strong and perfect that there is not
a worn or broken place apparent in the whole structure. It was built in 1741 by
the Hon. John M c C1 a r y, my great-grandfather's father, and replaced the log
cabin that his father, the first one of the family that came to this country built.
At first it was a one-story structure but was altered and enlarged at different
times until it has become the venerable mansion it is now.
The Hon. John McClary
lived here to the good old age of 82. It is interesting to note that he was a
brother of Major McClary of Bunker Hill fame and took himself an important part
in the American Revolution both in the army and politics. He was one of the leading
men of his time in Epsom, being town moderator for over 40 years, Justice of Peace,
and general adviser in all affairs of the town and vicinity. He was a member of
the Committee of Safety, a very important branch at that time, and later was elected
to the State Council and Senate. He is said to have been tall, commanding and
dignified and that he made a fine presiding officer. I opened a drawer in an old
desk and looked again at a picture of my great-grandfather, Gen. Michael McClary,
and I should think he must have resembled his father as his features are strong
and handsome with a fine set and shape of the head.
To return to the house-
the land on which it is built consisted originally of 100 acres granted from King
George though considerable has been added since. In those days people built their
own houses, each boy doing his share and the father superintending the whole,
the neighbors assisting at the "raising". So I suppose each of Esq.
John's sons worked on it and the wood used was all grown on the place. The furniture
too, much of which is very old and beautiful, was made at home or by traveling
journeymen who came to the house, except what was brought over in the ship with
the first one of the family who came to America. The dining room set of chairs
for instance is hardwood (cherry I think), arrow-back shape, and was made of wood
off the place. It was a wedding gift to one of my great-aunts from her grandfather,
and is in the dining room now, a fitting ornament. Grandma McClary's silhouette,
in its gold frame, hangs over the old fashioned sideboard. But I have jumped from
the front door to the dining room-quite a distance in that rambling old house.
As one enters
the small old-fashioned front hall the thing most noticeable besides the tall
eight-day clock on the first landing of the staircase is the gray wallpaper. It
is a peacock pattern in different shades of gray, and black and white. It was
imported from France as the house was built before wallpaper was made in this
country, and the view one gets of it, especially as I did that day sitting in
one of the front rooms, is lovely. It is so thick and strong that there is not
a break or tear in it after all those years.
The house faces north and this
northeast room is cool and lovely in summer. The choicest furniture is here, some
made as I mentioned from wood off the place and some brought over from Londonderry,
Ireland. Here are mahogany chairs of ancient pattern having the General's favorite
son John's initials in gold on the back. Grandma McClary's large wing chair by
the fireplace and a beautiful mahogany table between the windows with a gold mirror
over it. In the drawer are the brushes that were used for the weekly wax polishing
. The walls of this room are hung with interesting old prints, some French scenes
of Napoleon's time and some of our own country in Revolutionary times. The large
fireplace with its handsome brass andirons gives an air of cheer and comfort;
and there is a fireplace like it in the other front room.
This room faces
north west and in the old days was used as a guest chamber, and surely if "the
ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it" this house was well adorned-for
in it Esq. John McClary received friendly and official visits from leading men,
civil and military meetings were held here, and here for a half a century his
son gave hospitality to his townsmen and distinguished men of his time, such as
Generals Sullivan, Dearborn and Stark, and Governors Gilman, Langdon, Plummer
and Smith. The New Hampshire branch of the Society of the Cincinnati of which
Gen. McClary was a member held three of its annual meetings here. Daniel Webster
also was a frequent guest being an intimate friend of the family. One of the chambers
upstairs contains the set of mahogany furniture that was in the room he occupied
and is named "the Daniel Webster room". There is the large four-poster
bed he slept in, a large swell-front bureau, dressing table and small light stand,
chairs, and the washstand with its little old-fashioned blue and white bowl and
pitcher. A handsome blue and white wool square, hand woven, covers the centre
of the floor.
The down stairs north west room has a beautiful clump of lilac
bushes growing up to the windows on one side and from the other the view of San-born
hill and Mt. Kearsarge is wonderful.
I love to rummage in a closet by the
fireplace which contains a host of interesting things-photographs, old letters,
some from distinguished people, such as Paul Revere and Webster, old fashion baskets
and boxes galore, a sampler worked in memory of Gen. McClary by one of his daughters,
and the old brass warming-pan which I brought out and hung by the fireplace in
the next room. This used to be the dining room. It is called the "long room"
from its shape and extends the whole width of the house with windows east and
south. The fireplace here is the largest one in the house with an old dutch oven
at one side for baking. It is hung with a row of hooks all sizes for hanging pots
and kettles. A huge iron teakettle is hanging there of odd shape and black as
the blackest ebony. There is" the long handled iron shovel they used to bank
the fire and an old toaster besides the usual set of ordinary sized shovel and
tongs. A gate legged table and a large mahogany secretary with brass handles and
two secret drawers are the most interesting pieces of furniture in the room. The
old china and pewter is arranged on deep shelves in two cupboards there in the
"long room".
A door with a length of old-fashioned bull's-eye glass
in the top panel in shades of green and white leads from this room to a passage
way with doors east and west. From this is the present dining room. The fireplace
is a corner-chimney one, built recently, but very pretty and in keeping with the
rest of the room. The windows look out on a grove of pines on one side and another
long row of lilac bushes the other. I must not omit the beautiful mahogany dining
table with its delicate carved legs and smooth satiny surface. It was capable
of seating many besides the family, and I like to think of Daniel Webster seated
there, Gen. Sullivan and Lafayette and other distinguished men, Gen. McClary and
his wife dispensing the hospitalities and the children on their best behavior.
It is said no nation has so much patriotic pride in its ancestry as our own, and
I may be pardoned for a special mention of my great-grandfather.
The second
son of Esq. John Mc-Clary and a nephew of Major Andrew McClary who fell at the
battle of Bunker Hill, he was born in Epsom in 1753 and was a "smart active
lad" according to the historians, with a decided military taste. At the beginning
of the Revolutionary War he was ensign in Col. Stark's regiment and was fighting
in a very precarious position under slight cover. The enemy was driven back twice
but the brave company of soldiers did not leave their post until all their ammunition
was' gone. He was soon promoted to Captain and transferred to Col. Scammel's regiment.
Serving four years in the army he took part in some of the most important battles
of the war, and endured with his men severe hardship and privation. Upon his return
from the war he married Sarah Dearborn, a daughter of Dr. Dearborn of North Hampton,
N. H.
His army life was followed by an important political life. For nearly
fifty years he held some important office. He took an active part in organizing
the State Government and was Adjutant General twenty one years, Senator seven
years, and for a long time U. S. Marshall-an important office in the war of 1812.
When he retired from the Senate he was offered the nomination for Governor but
declined it.
But although well known and honored throughout the state the
old writers seem to lay special stress on his power and popularity in his native
town. He seemed to be the controlling spirit in Epsom and for over fifty years
served his townsmen as moderator, Town Clerk, Representative or Auditor and without
doubt was the most influential man who ever lived there. An old citizen remarked,-"If
I had a family of children who would obey me as well as the people of Epsom do
Gen. McClary I should be a happy man." He also did much as Justice of the
Peace and Probate Judge, and took an important part in organizing the New Hampshire
branch of the Society of the Cincinnati. He was their first treasurer, holding
this office twenty five years. He was courteous and pleasing in manner, interesting
in conversation, graceful in movement, generous, hospitable and public-spirited.
His acquaintance and correspondence was remarkably extensive, including many of
the most distinguished men of the country. And yet mingled with the happiness
that came from a plenty of this world's goods and many honors there was also the
usual amount of sorrow. The oldest son, John, known in Epsom as "the Hon.
John" from his being the first President of the first New Hampshire Senate,
was a young man of great beauty and promise. Besides being Representative and
Senator in his state he had a clerkship at Washington. When but 36 he was killed
by the falling off a building while helping at a house raising in the neighborhood.
His father never recovered from the blow. His second son Andrew was also very
bright and attractive but a disappointment in that he had a wild roving disposition.
He joined the army in the war of 1812 and was made Captain. Soon after he sailed
for Calcutta and was lost at sea. The three daughters, Nancy, Elizabeth, and Mary
were very attractive and grew up to be a comfort to their parents. They all married
and two lived to old age.
My
interest in Gen. McClary and his family may have led me from the main purpose
of this sketch which was to describe his home, and yet though now gone he seems
a part of it and the dining table, the friendly chairs and sideboard speak of
him as though he were really present.
Out from the dining room is the kitchen
and it is one of the nicest rooms of all. It is good-sized with windows looking
north and south. At the south there is a beautiful view of the three mountains
standing close together- McCoy, Nottingham and Fort. They look so near, especially
Fort Mountain, that you feel as though it would be a short walk up. But just try
it and see how you come out! It is a case of "so near and yet so far."
But what a view repays you when you have persevered to the very top. There lie
the blue hills in Massachusetts, Wachusett, the Presidential Range in the White
Mountains, Monadnock, and Portsmouth Harbour at the east where the signal service
was in the World War.
There is a large curious cheese safe standing by the
wall in the kitchen. It has a buttoned door opening on wide shelves that were
used for laying away the new cheese. From the kitchen you pass through a small
entry and out on a back door stone smooth and flat in shape of a half circle.
A little distance away is the old wooden well gray with age but in good condition.
It operates with a wheel and crank and the water is ice cold on the hottest day
in summer. I might speak of the large pastures, the blueberry field, the wild
strawberries, and the different kinds of trees, for besides those I have mentioned
in front of the house there are many more pines behind, also spruce and cedar,
maples, and apple, pear and cherry trees. The long row of farm buildings that
used to be there are now gone. There was a barn 80 feet long with an open shed,
a hog house, carriage house, tool house and a woodshed -a fine equipment for the
prosperous farm that was carried on for many years.
There is also a cunning
cool little bedroom off the "long room" that I have not mentioned, several
chambers upstairs besides the "Daniel Webster room", and a large attic
full of spinning wheels and reels, more furniture, old chests filled with bed
quilts and blankets of home manufacture, candlesticks, moulds and snuffers, and
the cradle that seven generations of the family have had the honor to be rocked
in.
I must content myself with speaking of but one more thing belonging particularly
to the house-namely, a secret stairway. It consists of an invisible opening in
a wide panel in a passage leading from the back entry. If you succeed in opening
it which is quite a trial of patience, you see a steep flight of stairs. They
lead to a storeroom above that opens into a back hall communicating with the upper
chambers. Family tradition has it that Aunt Nancy's grandfather built it for her
express use, she being the belle of the family and a lover of parties and good
times. It is many years since she tripped up the narrow stairs and it looks rather
dark and spidery but all the young people who come to the house ask to see the
"secret stairway".
And now it is getting time for me to say goodbye
again to the old house. I take a last look through all the rooms to see that all
is right and then lock the door and leave it alone with its dreams and memories.