|Actor Chris Kolb as Henry Beston|
Production still for the documentary by the Henry Beston Society and Mooncusser Films.
Born Henry Beston Sheahan on June 1, 1888, the Vagabond grew up in Quincy, Massachusetts, the son of Dr. Joseph Sheahan and Marie Louise (Maurice) Sheahan. He referred to his early years living on School Street in Quincy as "a New England boyhood of sea and shore, enriched with a good deal of the French spirit, from a French mother."
Another change in direction
With his mind now on the right track, Beston found himself working as an editor for The Living Age Magazine, which was housed in the offices of The Atlantic Monthly in New York City. Frustrated by the overflow of propaganda from European publications flowing into his cramped office, Beston began searching for an outlet for his creative juices.
|Cottage Henry Beston de Cape Cod Antes del 78 de Blizzard|
One March evening, just as sundown was fading into night, the whole sky chanced to be overspread with cloud, all save a golden channel in the west between the cloud floor and the earth. It was very still, very peaceful on my solitary dune. The whole earth was dark, dark as a shallow cup lifted to a solemnity of silence and cloud. I heard a familiar sound. Turning toward the marsh, I saw a flock of geese flying over the meadows along the rift of dying, golden light, their great wings beating with a slow and solemn beauty, their musical, bell-like cry filling the lonely levels and the dark. Is there a nobler wild clamour in all the world? I listened to the sound till it died away and the birds had disappeared into darkness, and then heard a quiet sea chiding a little at the turn of tide. Presently, I began to feel a little cold, and returned to the Fo'castle, and threw some fresh wood on the fire.
Every night in the year, when darkness has fallen on the Cape and the sombre thunder of ocean is heard in the pitch pines and the moors, lights are to be seen moving along these fifty miles of sand, some going north, some south, twinkles and points of light solitary and mysterious. These lights gleam from the lanterns and electric torches of the coast guardsmen of the Cape walking the night patrols. When the nights are full of wind and rain, loneliness and the thunder of the sea, these lights along the surf have a quality of romance and beauty that is Elizabethan, that is beyond all stain of present time.