THE EASTMANS OF CHEBEAGUE & NORTH CONWAY Casco Bay Breeze, Thursday, August 24, 1906 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- USGENWEB ARCHIVES NOTICE: These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or presentation by other organization or persons. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material, must obtain the written consent of the contributor, or the legal representative of the submitter, and contact the listed USGenWeb archivist with proof of this consent. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by SUBMITTER: Vicki Odom EMAIL: G W ODOM@aol.com DATE: Mar 24, 1999 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE EASTMANS OF CHEBEAGUE & NORTH CONWAY LONGEVITY AND STRENGTH OF CHARACTER DISPLAYED BY THESE WELL-KNOWN AND RESPECTED RESIDENTS OF CASCO BAY. ALFRED EASTMAN LUNT WRITES OF A DELIGHTFUL INTERVIEW It was with an intuitive sense of harmony and peace that the Breeze man turned in at the broad gate which invitingly stands at the entrance to the charming home of Cap'n Ben Hamilton on Great Chebeague. In this particular instance Cap'n Ben himself was not the real object of our search, but rather his faithful helpmeet, so lovingly known throughout the Bay as "Aunt Sarah". For it was to the famous old family of her maiden name that our inquiry turns - the Eastmans- whose blood runs in the veins of many a sturdy and patriotic American, among them no less a statesman than Daniel Webster. "Publicity is ever the penalty of fame," and in these days of public exposure of the private character of millionaires, it is refreshing to turn the searchlight of kindly interest upon lives so sweet and true, so full of the milk of human kindness as are those of Aunt Sarah and her numerous brothers and sisters. Instinctively passing by the broad piazza with its fragrant oleanders, the writer made straight for the nether regions of the house from which the sounds of cheeriness came. On the broad floor of the barn stood the object of his search surrounded by husband and helpers, for Aunt Sarah is ever up and doing, and is one of the pioneer hotel-keepers of the Bay. Indeed, as she herself says " I have been taking boarders all my life." It took but a second to acquaint her with the purpose of my visit, and two minutes later we were snugly seated in the long parlor, the writer with a well-defined sense of having passed all too hurriedly through such a kitchen and larder, by sundry spotless tables on which stood great pies of the delectable custard variety, yellow and brown of surface and deep with delicious filling. It was an atmosphere of peace where we sat--the great room, gay and sparkling only the night before with an island serenade--now brightened and softened by the kindly personalities of these two daughters of the family of Eastman, for we were now happily joined by another sister, Caroline Matilda, wife of Mr. Jeremiah Hamilton of Rockland, Me. Stout and motherly are all the Eastman girls, but with it all, a quiet dignity of true womanhood, a striking emanation of goodness and firmness accentuated by the ever present fire of vitality which marks every and all of this family. For, listen, and note if the facts don't bear me out. Trace if you can the causes for the remarkable longevity and sterling qualities of this blood in what of historical data we may unfold. And imagine yourself, if you will, sitting here with us, with the cheery laugh of Mrs. Matilda ringing in your ears, the quiet but convincing accents of Aunt Sara as she speaks of times that were, and the sweet humanity in her dark blue eyes, yet bright and responsive, as she tells of her stalwart ancestors. Since we are dealing only with this particular branch of the Eastman family, it is not within our scope to ascribe any especial genealogical significance to the sketch, making of it rather a portrayal of individuality. There is some evidence, however, that the original American Eastman came here from England, settling in North Conway, N. H., early in the 18th century. This pioneer was the grandfather of the generation of which we are now speaking. From that day to this, the Eastmans have taken a large part in the history of North Conway, and from that famous mountain town have gone forth men and women of that blood, to patriotic war, to settle new regions, and to found new families. Most of the Eastmans are of a dark, somewhat swarthy complexion, and this is accounted for by the strain of Portuguese blood which it is maintained, mingled with the Britain wing of the family in the days of Queen Bess. One can almost see, particularly in the men of this family, a fleshing out of that old Arab-Castilian strain which has for so many centuries dominated the whole Spanish peninsula. To this splendid admixture of proud blood was added on American soil, that of one equally pure and vigorous--the Upton and Henley stock. A most picturesque character was Sarah Upton, the grandmother of Aunt Sarah, and for whom the latter was named. Sarah Upton married a Henley of Birch Isle, and of this union was born the mother of the Eastman family. Grandmother Henley's life was one of love and service of the highest order. Her eyes, black and brilliant, her wonderful energy, and quaint old-fashioned ways all made their impress upon a wide circle of loving friends. For many years she was mid-wife for all Casco Bay. No storm was too terrible, no day too threatening for her mission of love when the call came. To the expectant, anxious home she would hurry, under however trying circumstance, at one time walking across the frozen bay, upon the dangerous black ice, so soft and frail that the imprints of her feet were plainly left. Such was the service of his woman of a past generation. She departed this life at 97, and is buried on Chebeague. In her wrinkled, but grand old face, one can see the indomitable purpose which bulwarks humanity ______________. In those days, Casco Bay abounded with smugglers. These maritime Robin Hoods knew the step and bearing of a revenue officer a mile away. One night "Father Eastman" coming from No. Conway courting Hannah Upton on Birch Isle, scared a band of smugglers of that resort by his military carriage. As Mrs. Matilda said, "Father looked pretty slick and those smugglers ran like all possessed." Evidently the young man was not a timid swain. We hear that he loved to play a joke. At one time he worked in a company with two fearsome youths in a distillery. Knowing their fears, Eastman dared them to go at night to fetch a hymn book from the church pew nearby. So cleverly did he twit them that they agree; on the way they must pass a cemetery. No sooner had they started that he rigged a sort of wild turkey-head with an enormous bill, and wrapping it and himself in a sheet took a position near the cemetery wall. As the bold youths drew near, a gigantic figure in white arose and stalked about the gruesome place; now and then pecking at the gravestones with its great bill, and now turning its huge head squarely about and glaring at the trembling lads. Waving ponderously a gigantic wing in their direction, the figure made as if to leap upon them--this was too much and with shrieks of terror the frightened boys, almost too weak to run, made for the distillery. A half minute before they got there "Father" Eastman, by a short cut, rushed in, threw the sheet paraphernalia into the garret and was calmly working when his white-faced colleagues burst into the room. The secret was a long time kept. Those were the real backwoods days of New England. His courting days over, and happily married, Mr. Eastman went to North Conway, where he raised the family of which we write. Eleven children followed in succession, and of these three live permanently on Chebeague. The longevity of the race is shown by recounting these lives. Louisa, the oldest daughter is, now Mrs. Webber, will be 90 in December. She has lived on the Island nearly 70 years, having been married here when she was 23. Henry, the oldest brother, still lives at Conway and is 93. He is smart as a man half his age, has played his violin up to a year ago, and with his own children used to figure at many entertainments as the "Eastman Band." Each one playing a different instrument. Then there is Julia. Mrs. Bennett of Chebeague, who is 85; Sarah, Mrs. Benj. Hamilton, who is 70 in December, and Mrs. Matilda, wife of Jeremiah Hamilton of Rockland, and she is 66. Sumner C. Eastman of North Conway, another brother, is 77. These are the living and unlike the vast majority of elderly people, they bear almost no marks of decrepitude. They all seem to possess a matchless vitality and at an age when most people are either dead or wish they were, these scions of Eastman take on renewed strength and reaching out with undiminished vigor blunt the keen edge of Time's great scythe. Of those who are gone, Mary Jeanette, Mrs. Nichols of Providence, RI, passed on at the age of 77. The other four, Alfred, Roswell, Harriett, and Elvira went to their reward at a somewhat younger age. "Father" Eastman was a veteran of the War of 1812 and his son Henry was a baby when, nearly a century ago, the Enterprise and Boxer cannonaded each other off Chebeague. It is worthy of note that the paternal Eastman married the day he was "free," having attained 21, and on his wedding day his betrothed was also, in the old parlance, "free", being just 18. This three-year sequence singularly followed them until death, he dying at 87; just three years before his faithful life-partner passed on likewise at 87. It was always a source of much disappointment to this dear mother that she never saw her eleven children all together. But in the certainty of faith we know that some day the sweet privilege will be hers. Her daughter Julia now counts into the fourth generation of her own individual offspring, and this is also true of others of the family. It was regretfully that we prepared to leave the hospitable roof of Aunt Sarah; but time had flown under the glamour of chronicles, far too lengthy to set down here, and there yet remained a visit to the home of Mrs. Webber, the most venerable of the Chebeague Islanders, and the oldest daughter of the Eastman family. As Aunt Sarah picked a bouquet of oleanders, sweet with their pink petals, and bestowed them upon me with her kindly nod. I thought with keen appreciation of her practical religion which she had so simply expressed to me an hours ago. " I have but one doctrine," said she, "and that is to treat others as I would be treated by them. And often when this or that man comes and knocks at my door and so many would slam the door in his face. I always think--suppose here were my own boy, coming to some strange door far away, perhaps only for a drink of water--- and I just go open the door in that spirit." Do you wonder that people love Aunt Sarah, or that we all find something to admire in those of her blood? For she knows the simple, yet grand Christ principle--free from ostentation, unencumbered with form and dogma. He religion is off the heart, and so she grows old gracefully, a living example of the great law that is, even as out inner thought is, so is our life. And so, pondering thus, we walk across the road and down the field to the home of the oldest woman of Chebeague, Mrs. Louisa Webber. Mrs. Webber is presently staying with her married daughter, and it was there your reporter, found her, seated by the window sewing. Once could hardly believe that here before him sat a woman who was breathing the piney air of New Hampshire, while Napoleon, Emperor of the French, was pacing the deck of the "Bellowpheron" ever nearing the scene of his exile at St. Helena. Truly the span of human life is tremendous, though many murmur at its shortness; but to live nearly a century is to participate whether consciously or unconsciously in constructive deeds and in to_____________________of great souls which have carved an imperishable niche in the human edifice of race development. Yet, in Mrs. Webber's face are few signs of great age. Rather has the dauntless spirit within seemingly so moulded the outward expression of her individuality that one is not conscious of speaking with a very old woman. She reads and sews without glasses, and can thread a needle by lamplight without their aid. She conducts all her own business and just yesterday sold three house lots from her property near the shore. Active as a cricket she takes walks of considerable length almost every day and is out of doors much. And there is something to show for her labors for our eyes were soon bedazzled and bewitched by some 25 beautiful silk squares which this woman, 90 years young, had recently done with her own hand, and, although our masculine judgement of such work is questionable, we would like to see the equal of his output of the seamstress anywhere in the country, by those far younger. It was very beautiful work, even and neat, and the color designs and harmonies most strikingly adjusted. And such a joker--keen and bright as her gleaming scissors. Her sister Matilda had been speaking of sister Louisa's beauty and sprightliness when a young girl on Chebeague, as compared with the other Island girls, but the old lady with a smile and a wink said, "Yes, but there were only three or four women on the Island then." And, again, when we reluctantly stood up to go, she said, turning to Mrs. Matilda. "It's funny, Matildy, that you only get over to see me when the Breeze carries you." Many were the gales of merriment as she spoke of the escapades, the bear hunts, and backwoods environment of the day gone by. Would that our space permitted a recount of them all. How her mother was wont to ride from Portland to North Conway on horseback with a baby in her arms; how her grandmother the famous old midwife, was the first woman to ride up Mt. Kearsearge and laid the foundation stone for Kearsarge Mountain House; of the sad story of the Willey House avalanche and how upon hearing the dread news of the death of those he know so well Grandfather Eastman (called Colonel) enunciated his familiar expression, "Alas! a day," and enjoined all the children to put their feet upon the chair-rungs and prepare for anything. In those days, flint and tinder was the only means of preserving fire, and the familiar phrase, "I've come for fire." Was then the most common of all. "Many's the time, " said Mrs. Webber, have I found our fire gone, and tore an old piece from a dress, folded it, and ran to the neighbors a mile away to make tinder for fire." Colonel Eastman learned to write on birch bark, the convenience of writing paper being an unknown luxury and the children well remember their own constant use of the quill pen. "When I got my first Dutch quill" said one reminiscent, " all prepared in oil, and clear and transparent, I thought I could write as well as the next one." As a young girl, Louisa Eastman, came to Chebeague when the population was almost nil. There was a only a solitary horse on the Island and one or two general shops. "Everything was as dry as a woodpeckers' nest," said she. Back in North Conway, a friend of the Eastman's set out one day with his little eight-year- old son for the next town to get him some new boots. He selected a stunning pair, of the style of the period, heavily nailed and with mighty soles and tops. They started back a little before dusk and had gone about half the distance homeward when our friend bethought him of a pure spring nearby, and being a thirsty soul hided himself thither, the little boy holding his father's hand. As he neared the spot and stooped down to drink. "Woof, Woof" came the great cough of a bear within a foot of his head, he started back to escape a blow for the great paw. He had no gun, but suddenly thought of the new boots. There ensued a battle royal.. Our plucky friend swung the prized footwear aloft like a battle axe , and thump, crash went the heavy heels in to very snout of the now furious bear. Stimulated by his little sons cries of "put it to the old devil, pop" he swung and dodged again and again, until Bruin lay stunned and seemingly dead beside the spring. Such were the perils and the courage of our New England forbears and this instance shows how it was bred into the very bone of their children. Often have Louisa Eastman and her brothers and sisters gone out at night to a neighboring apple bee lighted by pitch torches for they had not lanterns or oil lamps and heard the chilling "snuff" of a black bear in the forest by the roadside. And in a more horrible connection do we learn of the onrush of the Indians upon this New Hampshire town and the seizure and captivity of great grandmother Eastman, wrung from her home after seeing her eight weeks old baby dashed against a nearby tree. Such experiences raise up the spirit of overcoming and the resolute character of these men and women bred in their family today. __________________these tales and gazed upon these strong but kindly faces, he felt a true thrill of satisfaction at the generous share of Eastman blood which he himself had inherited, and however small or great the part which the unknown forces of heredity play in our lives he felt the universality of human experience and the real heritage. It brings to all of whatever blood, as the past was here linked with the NOW by those who have lived, suffered and passed on through the welcoming curtain to their unbroken and continued soul unfolding. So, au revoir, study race of Eastman---may these lines carry some little part, to those who read, of the inspiration your warm welcome and simple human sympathy did us.