Driving New England Shaker Settlements
Having spent her childhood surrounded by things Shaker, Rachel Urquhart takes a driving tour of the group's last New England settlements for a glimpse back at a simpler time
On a crisp New England day—when it seems that every tumble of stone wall and abandoned barn is one giant regional cliché—I slow my car to look at the former Shaker settlement where my family's house once stood. Before being transplanted a mile or so down the road in the 1920's, the large clapboard structure had been the Meetinghouse for the Tyringham, Massachusetts, community of Shakers. I have spent every summer of my life in that house, yet despite this pedigree, I had only casual knowledge of the sect itself, the lazy sort of knowledge one tends to have when surrounded by the real thing. I vaguely knew the Shaker basics—that they believed in celibacy, communal life, and confession of sin. And, of course, that they shook. Now, headed west along the Mass Pike toward Hancock Shaker Village, the Shaker Museum & Library in Old Chatham, and what is left of the buildings that once made up Mount Lebanon, I am finally on a mission to learn more.
In the early 1970's, while other children visited Rye Playland or Palisades Amusement Park on hot summer days, my brother, cousins, and I were driven over to Hancock, Massachusetts to watch grown men and women in humble costumes card flax and perform wondrous feats with a lathe. The preserved village was a kind of WASP Disneyland then, with hayrides instead of roller coasters, earnest ersatz Shakers instead of giant squeaky-voiced mice, and a Round Stone Barn in place of the Magic Kingdom's castle. As an eight-year-old, I wasn't always thrilled by the thought of an afternoon spent traipsing from herb cottage to icehouse, but as a middle-aged mother gone AWOL, I find it a treat to explore what has since become one of the Berkshires' biggest destinations.
Hancock's barnlike Center for Shaker Studies, founded in 2000, includes the entrance, orientation areas, research library, gallery space, adjoining café, and gift shop. The houses of the actual village look like toys laid out on a verdant blanket of lawns, pastures, and medicinal-herb gardens. Of the 56 original buildings that once stood on the 1,200-acre site, 20 are left. But from the large Brick Dwelling House to the Laundry & Machine Shop, these relics of a vastly different time and way of life have been beautifully restored.
It is the purity of Shaker ingenuity that really makes an impression. In the brown clapboard Tan House, a windlass operated by a complicated system of pulleys raised heavy loads of animal hides from floor to floor. Water rerouted from a nearby stream powered a turbine that turned a large grinding stone used for sharpening farm implements and woodworking tools. The famous Round Stone Barn was designed so that wagons could enter on the upper level and pitch their loads into the central haymow; cattle stalls were one level down, with feed openings facing the haymow. Clearly, time and energy that might otherwise have been spent in pursuit of sex were channeled into more practical and edifying pastimes.
The quality of their products combined with the uniquely strange nature of Shaker worship services—the Shakers of the 1700's shook, jerked, and spoke in tongues, while those who came later performed ritualized dances and sang songs—have attracted tourists since the early 19th century. Among others, Leo Tolstoy, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Horace Greeley, Herman Melville, and Charles Dickens were all keenly interested in the sect. Before he decided the group's practices were "hateful and disgusting," Hawthorne may have even considered joining; Dickens (who spent a single day with the Shakers) declared them "among the Enemies of Heaven and Earth." Ever the sybarite, he described Mount Lebanon—once the largest and most active Shaker village in the country—as a "gloomy, silent commonwealth." For very different reasons, as I drive through the hilly forests on Route 20 and pull into the settlement's empty parking lot, I'm inclined to agree. The trip to New Lebanon takes a mere 15 minutes. How long, I wonder, had it taken a minister from Hancock to struggle over rutted roads to receive the latest word from on high?
At the height of their membership, in the mid 1800's, the Shakers numbered just under 6,000 across 18 prosperous settlements from Maine to Kentucky. It is therefore all the more poignant that Mount Lebanon, the central Shaker ministry for 160 years, is such a haunted shadow of its former self. Most of the buildings that made up the eight communal Families and housed more than 600 Believers are gone, many of them torn down or sold off as private residences or school buildings. Though one can still enter and see the basic bones of the place, the famously large vaulted Meetinghouse is now a high school library. A Sufi community—tie-dyed T-shirts and bushy facial hair as far as the eye can see—occupies the structures that once made up the South Family.
What remains open to the public are a few of the North Family buildings, including the Brethren's Workshop, the Wash House, and a small Dwelling House. I see an exhibition, created by local schoolchildren, on the Shakers who made Mount Lebanon famous for its cloaks, seeds, and furniture. But the place feels lonely and forgotten.
That is about to change. Twenty minutes south-west, toward the rolling farm country of Old Chatham, New York, the Shaker Museum & Library beckons. Housed in several beautifully laid out barns, converted into a museum space in 1950, is the world's premier collection of Shaker artifacts and archives, though the site itself had nothing to do with the Shakers. Eighty percent of collector John S. Williams Sr.'s machinery, tools, textiles, furnishings, oval boxes, and manuscripts originally came from Mount Lebanon. With Mount Lebanon listed by the World Monuments Fund in 2003 as one of the 100 most endangered sites in the world, the Shaker Museum's board recently voted to acquire the North Family buildings—including the massive stone ruins of the five-story Dairy Barn—and move the Williams collection back to the village from whence it came. When the mammoth project—which includes reconstructing the barn and turning it into a museum—is finished, at least a portion of Mount Lebanon will have been restored to its former glory and another rich Shaker site created.
As a child who swam and fished in Shaker mill ponds by day and slept in a room rimmed with Shaker pegs by night, I had heard many rumors and half-truths about the sect. Local farmers, suspicious of the Shakers and their strange ways, used to call the ceremonial site in the woods above the Tyringham settlement the Devil's Playground. Bizarre rites, drunkenness, and debauchery were said to have taken place up there. Rounding out the intriguing tales, there was the rumor that on a freezing January night in 1858, 23 children averaging 14 years of age ran away from the Tyringham Shakers, never to be seen or heard from again. With equally chilling stories awaiting me farther north, I persuade my husband to join me for the New Hampshire leg of my tour.
From the Berkshires, a three-hour drive up Interstate 91 through Massachusetts college towns and past crunchy Vermont food co-ops deposits us at Mascoma Lake, just a half-mile or so from the doors of the Shaker Inn in Enfield, New Hampshire. It is past midnight, but even by moonlight the enormous structure—known to the Shakers as the Great Stone Dwelling—is impressive. Designed by a well-known Boston architect named Ammi Burnham Young and built between 1837 and 1841 out of locally quarried granite, the six-story building measures 62 feet from ground to bell tower. It is the largest dwelling the Shakers ever built, with room enough to house 150 Believers. Inside, there is scarcely a nail to be found, though 800 drawers, 500 built-in cupboards, 182 windows, 200 feet of black-cherry banister, and a complicated system of flues to vent smoke from lamps and odors from chamber-pot cupboards were fashioned by hand to outfit the interior.
We push open the front door and find no one. The innkeeper has gone to bed, and we walk the wide, empty halls, trying to pick one of the 20-foot-square sleeping chambers. All of the doors are open. We are, it seems, the only guests. I remember from my reading that one of the rooms is said to be haunted by the ghosts of indentured children who wanted to leave the Shakers but couldn't. After coffee the next morning, Janet, the innkeeper, leads a private tour with her spaniel Mojo in tow. She regales us with tales of eerie sightings, like that of a tall, spectral figure dressed in a long cloak who was apparently standing at the top of the stairs when two guests bumped into him on their way out to dinner. The patrons were regulars; she is sure the story is true. After all, in 1863, outside the doors of this very building, a deranged veteran of the Civil War who'd been denied the right to reclaim his children had murdered Caleb Dyer, beloved Trustee of Enfield and himself the son of a woman who spent her life trying to extract her children from the firm grip of Shaker indenture. She adds that Mojo often barks at windows and doors, making a fuss for no reason, and on quiet, slow nights during the week, Janet herself has sensed that she was in spiritual company. Taking her daughter through the attic workrooms one day, she opened several built-in drawers in one of the rooms to demonstrate the quality of Shaker millwork. They were alone in the huge stone building and yet, minutes later, on their way past the room to go back downstairs, the two women found all of the drawers slammed shut. Convinces me. (The property is now closed, taken over by the nearby Enfield Shaker Museum. Beginning in April, visitors can tour the Great Stone Dwelling, but it will no longer function as an inn.)
I consider myself a skeptic by nature, but I feel the presence of "others" around me the whole time I'm here, and when I try to talk my husband into sneaking up to the attic at midnight so that we can catch a glimpse of a Shaker ghost-child, he blanches and plunges his nose resolutely into his bedtime reading.
Earlier in the day, however, he consented to driving 45 minutes on back roads to Canterbury. We passed chunks of New Hampshire granite set into fields and forests like enormous tombstones. Turning a corner in the road, our eyes were drawn to a long green hillside capped by a series of white clapboard houses ashimmer in the sunlight.
Canterbury was a prominent Shaker village for 200 years and stands as a remarkable—and picturesque—example of how Shaker life evolved over time. The last Shaker resident, Sister Ethel Hudson, died in 1992. Peering into her modest quarters—at her card table, her television set, the small stuffed animal on her bureau holding a sign that reads, YOU LITTLE DEVIL!—one grasps that she, unlike the participants in the time-frozen costume drama that unfolds daily at Hancock, was a real person. She baked and prayed and remembered the night Canterbury was first illuminated by electric light, but she also had a sharp, mischievous sense of humor and was addicted to One Life to Live. Go, Ethel. It is the continuing strength of her presence here that makes me feel, for the first time ever, a real human connection to Shaker life.
From the surprising vulgarity of early Shaker paint colors (orange, red, and yellow in the sleeping rooms!) to the famous Shaker-style Ivy League letter sweaters produced for decades by the Sisters at Canterbury, the site inspires one to think of the Shakers as people, not weird religious dinosaurs or theme-park mascots. In this austere Canterbury compound, a group long celebrated in books, articles, and Ken Burns documentaries for its discipline, ingenuity, piousness, and innate (if unintentional) sense of design finally comes alive, ghosts and all.
When to Go
Memorial Day through mid- October, for the best weather and access to all sites (allow three or four days).
Shaker settlements are reachable from many directions. The closest major airport is Albany International, in upstate New York. From there, take I-90 30 miles east to begin your tour in Old Chatham.
Where to Stay
Although you can't stay at Enfield's Great Stone Dwelling—it's now a museum—Shaker country is full of bed-and-breakfasts. Log on to www.bbonline.com for listings.
Where to Eat
For Shaker fare, try the picnic lunches at the Hancock site.
What to Do
Canterbury Shaker Village
Canterbury, N.H.; 603/783-9511; www.shakers.org.
Enfield Shaker Museum (and the Great Stone Dwelling)
Enfield, N.H.; 603/632-4346; www.shakermuseum.org.
Hancock Shaker Village
Hancock, Mass.; 800/817-1137 or 413/443-0188; www.hancockshakervillage.org; guided tours available in the off-season.
Mount Lebanon Shaker Village
New Lebanon, N.Y.; 518/794-9100; tours by appointment.
Shaker Museum & Library
Old Chatham, N.Y.; 518/794-9100; www.shakermuseumandlibrary.org; closed Tuesdays.
Where to Stay
The Porches Inn
231 River Street, North Adams, Massachusetts; 413/664-0400
Doubles from $125
The Red Lion Inn
30 Main Street, Stockbridge, Massachusetts; 413/298-5545; www.redlioninn.com
Doubles from $110
Where to Eat
Contemporary American cuisine.
24 Marshall Street, North Adams, Massachusetts; 413/663-5300
Dinner for two $80
Northern Italian fare with an extensive wine list.
55 Main Street, North Adams, Massachusetts; 413/664-9955
Dinner for two $72