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BUCKLAND -- In this small Massachusetts town nestled in the foothills of the Berkshires people seldom talk about "Si" Spaulding. Perhaps there's no need to.

Si's been dead for nearly a hundred years, but even when he was alive the good people of Buckland didn't talk much the town poor farm in 1867, only the town poor farm in 1867 -sic-, only his fellow patients and the local minister went to his funeral.

They buried him in an unmarked grave in Spaulding Cemetery beside the Congregational Church, and forgot about him.

Oh, they felt sorry enough for Si, but, for more than 50 years he had been a vexing problem to his family and the town -- a constant reminder of what many felt were the consequences of a doting father, a mischievous nature, excessive studying and parental indulgences.

For Josiah Spaulding, Jr., the only son and namesake of Rev. Josiah Spaulding, founder of the First Congregational Church of Buckland, was a "raving maniac" and was confined to a small wooden cage for 57 years. Naked, except for a woolen blanket wrapped protectively around him, Si sat for decades on the cage floor, his knees drawn up to his breast, waiting to die. The townspeople waited with him.

Josiah was born in 1786 during the first years of his father's ministry, and the elder Spaulding expected the boy to follow in his footsteps and to take up the work of the Lord. The noble old man, called "priest" by his devoted congregation, lavished affection on his son, but, during his formative years, Si's love of mischief and his delight in teasing the family animals troubled the good, but stern, New England minister.

There's no doubt the boy was a student. Old timers recalled he had great proficiency in Latin at the old Buckland Center School. He sat by himself, in the one-room school, and used different books than the other children, treatment befitting his father's superior rank among the townspeople. But Si continually shocked his father, even at this early age. He was caught throwing spitballs at fellow students, and made faces at the teacher behind his school books -- behavior not looked for nor appreciated in a minister's son.

Young Si dutifully studied his lessons at his father's knee during the long winter nights, but stories made their way around the village about "low, offensive tricks" played on his family. Tacks were placed beneath his father's saddle to make the family horse jump; animals were secreted in the parsonage kitchen to frighten his harried mother, and once a dead snake was placed in his sister's bed.

Such actions sorely distressed his stern father, who found it difficult to practice Christian charity on his unruly son. The elder Spaulding dispaired -sic- of ever getting the youngster to "settle down to Christian living," and he bore his sadness with a heavy heart. He prayed to the Lord to speak to his son, and to help the family guide Josiah into His service.

Josiah especially didn't like family devotions, which added to his father's distress. The boy complained about evening prayers and annoyed his father about them every time he dared. Then an event occurred that convinced his parents that Josiah's "precious depravity and gracelessness" might never be overcome. It was Mr. Spaulding's practice to read prayers while standing, since kneeling smacked of Popery. One winter's night, young Josiah sat before the fireplace with his dog Tiger stretched out beside him as his father rambled through a particularly long chapter of the Bible. The minister stood behind an old-fashioned armchair and rested his foot on its lower rung for a bit more comfort, as he read. Everyone in the room, warmed by the roaring fire seemed half asleep as the "Priest" rambled on.

Young Josiah's eye caught a burning stick protruding from the fireplace, and he couldn't resist the opportunity. Silently he took the leash of the napping dog, and tied it to the armchair supporting his father. Taking the stick from the fire, Josiah stuck it near the dog's nose. Tiger awakened in a flash and, frightened by the nearness of the flame, jumped toward the door, jerking the chair from under the preoccupied minister. The Bible flew from his hands and Mr. Spaulding fell forward, striking a large tub of blue dye and knocking it over onto his wife. Fortunately no one was hurt, although the dye, described as "oderiferous and very precious," ruined Mrs. Spaulding's dress and left a great indelible stain on the parsonage floor. Mr. Spaulding flew into a rage, and prayed long and hard for his son that night.

As Josiah grew older, he seemed to lose his mischievousness, and became to his father's delight, quite stolid, although there were isolated instances that gave cause for concern. One night, finding his father's horse tethered in front of the house, the teen-aged Josiah threw the reins over the horse's head and rode the animal at breakneck speeds through the quiet village streets, hallowing loudly and causing the sober minded townspeople to shake their heads as they expressed sympathy for the scandalized minister.

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At 21, his father's dream about a career in the ministry for Josiah seemed near to becoming a reality. The youth spent a year in intensive study preparing for examinations to enter the freshman class a Williams College over the mountain in Williamstown. He learned the first three books of the Aenied, two or three selected orations of Cicero, and memorized the four evangelist books of the Bible in Greek. Yet, professors at Williams told him he was not quite ready for college, and advised one more year of study.

Bitterly disappointed, Mr. Spaulding began anew the tutoring of his son, but Josiah's enthusiasm waned, and he seemed to lose his life-long interest in books. He began to spend what his father considered too much time alone. The worried elder Spaulding talked to some of Si's friends who convinced him he should mingle with people more, and who secured a job for him teaching school in the neighboring town of Ashfield.

For a time, the therapy of work cheered the young man, and he seemed happy, but after a while, his father felt, his "sulleness" returned. He shocked the old man anew one night by not coming home from Ashfield to continue his nightly studying, preferring rather to spend the night in the school. Such actions caused more concern for his welfare, and when, because of a disciplinary problem in the classroom, Josiah was dismissed from his school position, his father's anguish was nearly complete.

The onset of "insanity" became unmistakably clear to Mr. Spaulding, and loud arguments between the two could be heard by townspeople passing the country parsonage. Convinced his son had lost his reason, Mr. Spaulding informed is parishioners he had found it necessary to chain Josiah in his room.

A strong chain was secured from the barn and one end was riveted around his ankle, while the other was fastened onto a round staple, placed firmly in the bedroom floor. On being restrained in that manner, Josiah became boisterous and his heartsick father said, used extremely offensive and profane language.

The 24-year old youth, left to himself in his room, continued ranting about the state of his condition. In a constant rage, he clamored for freedom and shouted to his friends for assistance. None came. He discovered eventually that, by clanking the chain, friction was produced on one side of its links, and he worked for nearly a year trying to free himself. The evening prayers were said to the background of clanging chains that winter.

Late one night, after the family had retired, the weakened link snapped, and Josiah was free at last. His ankle, rubbed raw by the tightness of the chain, ached as he hobbled toward the locked bedroom door. His sister Lydia, awakened by the unusual noises coming from Josiah's room, ran terrified down the parsonage stairs and out the front door for help. Josiah placed his weight against the door and struggle to break the bolt that stood between him and freedom. Mr. Spaulding also awakened by the commotion, made his way from the master's bedroom in the front part of the house and arrived at his son's room just as the door gave way.

The disheveled Josiah pushed his father aside and limped down the back stairway, leading to the kitchen. As his mother pleaded for him to come back, Josiah, in a frenzy with escape so near, cursed his father and made his way to the barn where the horses were bedded down for the night. The elder Spaulding overtook him as he tried to open the door, and with the assistance of a strong neighbor summoned by the distraught Lydia, finally subdued him.

Mr. Spaulding, convinced his son had tried to kill him during the scuffling near the barn door, told his congregation no chain could keep Josiah permanently secure, and he sorrowfully ordered the local blacksmith to build a strong wooden cage in Josiah's bedroom. Here the minister's son was placed and here he was to spend the next 57 years of his life.

A remarkable change came over Josiah during the first week in the heavy cage. His ravings stopped and the once boisterous "maniac" simply sat in the corner and wept. As the years past, a once rational human being turned into what the townspeople described as a "horrid and revolting wreck." Contemptuous of the clothing supplied by his family, he ripped them from his back and threw them through the bars of the cage. Naked, except for the blanket, he crouched in the cage, and refused to speak.

His grieving father, overcome by the calamity that had struck his family, went on in his Christian ministry to Buckland, never again mentioning Josiah to his friends or his congregation. Townspeople, whose hearts went out to the suffering Spauldings, expressed admiration for the old "priest's" courage in bearing a nearly unbearable cross, and in deference to the Spaulding's, tried to forget the "human wreck" caged in the upstairs bedroom of the parsonage. But, on Sunday mornings, when Mr. Spaulding preached about the consequences of over-indulgence by parents on their children, church members would glance knowingly at one another and vow not to let a similar misfortune occur in Buckland again.

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Thirteen years past, and in 1823, both the revered Mr. Spaulding and his wife died within a month. At the old "priest's" funeral, Josiah was mentioned in public for the first time in a decade, as the newly hired minister praised the dead reverend for the care and attention he lavished on his stricken son. "The younger Spaulding received more from his father than could be expected," the minister said. "For when a human being is bereft of reason, he sinks immeasurably below the brute."

With no one to care for the now 37-year-old man in the parsonage cage, his sister Lydia, who had married the influential Ezra Howes, destined to become town clerk, treasurer and state representative, persuaded her husband to allow Josiah into the Howes homestead across the town common. It was a pitiable sight, the day he was transferred. Some townspeople cried as they watched the chained and naked Josiah being led up the hill from the parsonage into the Howes residence, followed by four men carrying his dismantled cage. The cage was reassembled in the back upstairs bedroom and the crazed man, struggling with his escorts was unceremoniously thrown into it. Once again he disappeared from public view.

The Howes tried their best to care for Josiah, but Lydia was in mortal fear of him. She felt it was her Christian duty to look after the "thing" that once had been her brother, but went near the cage only when it was necessary. Surrounded by filth and demoralized beyond hope, Josiah neither saw nor talked to another human being.

In 1828 Howes learned the selectmen of the town were required, by law, to care for maniacs and he pressed the board to do something about Josiah. The people of Buckland, out of respect for the late Mr. Spaulding, declining to place his son in the town's almshouse, or to consign him to the county jail, as was the custom. Selectmen appointed a committee to investigate other alternatives and the committee reported, "Mrs. Howes proposed to secure the town from being to any expense in the support of Josiah Spaulding, Jr. upon the condition of their paying for his support for the next six months and have his estate exempt from taxation."

At the next town meeting, an article was inserted in the town warrent -sic- -- "To see if the town will make any agreement with Ezra Howes to free him from any expense of supporting Josiah Spaulding, Jr. or to act thereon." The town meeting voted that Buckland would pay Howes $52 and exempt him from taxation during Josiah's natural life, on the condition that Howes idemnify -sic- the town from Josiah's becoming a pauper." Their civic duty accomplished, the people of Buckland once more put Si Spaulding from their minds and their consciences.

Lydia died in 1836, but Howes, true to his word with the town, continued to support his brother-in-law, now 50 years old. Fortunately for the caged man, Howes remarried the next year and his new wife, the former Mrs. Lois Warriner, was not only unafraid of her ward, but expressed a deep concern for him. She kept his cage clean and made it a point to cook his favorite foods whenever possible. Her tenderness had a soothing affect on her disturbed house guest, and there was a noticeable difference in his behavior whenever she was in the room. Mrs. Warriner was the only person Josiah ever established a real communication with, and the only person he displayed any affection or regard for during the 57 years he was "crazed."

Howes died in 1855 but his widow continued to care for Josiah, now an old man. At 69 years of age, he had been in the cage for 45 years. Two generations had passed since Mr. Spaulding had preached his last sermon, and, if the townspeople still remembered Josiah, they seldom mentioned him.

When Mrs. Warriner died in 1864, the Buckland people were again forced to face the prospect of finding him a new home. Unpleasant memories were stirred as they carried the aged maniac from the Howes homestead and transported him to the town poor farm where he would spend his few remaining years. Despite his age and infirmities, selectmen ordered the infamous cage to the poor farm, and there Josiah was again incarcerated.

Word went around Franklin County about the inhuman wreck in the Buckland poor-house, and people came from neighboring towns to look at the "disgusting and revolting maniac, huddled deep in his blanket and crouching in the corner of a cage. Proprietors of the poorhouse conducted tours for the curious, and told them the caged man was treated like an animal because he acted like one.

Josiah died quietly on Christmas Eve, in 1867. No one in Buckland mourned his death. They placed him in an unmarked grave near his father, thankful that the one blot on the illustrious Spaulding name had at long last been removed. His epitaph was printed in the town records. "Josiah Spaulding, Jr., died Dec. 24, 1867. Unmarried, he was for many years insane; and tenderly cared for by his family."