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MEMOIR 
 
 OP 
 
 HENRY ARMITT BROWN, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 FOUR HISTORICAL ORATIONS. 
 
 EDITED BY J. 31. liOPPIN, 
 
 PKOFESSOR IN VALE COLLEGE. 
 
 f/S 
 
 
 ftr. 1879. .q5 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPIISrCOTT & CO. 
 
 Lo>rDON : 16 Southamptox Street, Covent Garden. 
 1880. 
 
E 
 
 Copyright, 1879, by Josephine Lea Brown. 
 
PEEFAOE. 
 
 Political wisdom fails sometimes to perceive and 
 make use of the fact that the spring of a nation's pro- 
 gress is in its youth's fresh ideas; for they are inspira- 
 tions from a fountain nearer the original source of national 
 life than the profoundest theories of scientific statesman- 
 ship. Youth's radicalism has more than once proved to 
 be the principle of the rapid advancement of a people in 
 freedom and civilization. 
 
 The subject of the following memoir possessed elements 
 of greatness worthy of the best days of the republic. A 
 power went forth from his short life (for he was compara- 
 tively a young man when he died) which will not soon 
 cease to be felt. It was an influence for the political refor- 
 mation of the land, and for a higher standard of national 
 character. He represented, as far as in him lay, the best 
 modern political spirit. Nobly as he had done, there 
 seemed to be much more for him to do. Although his 
 life's work was in some sense complete, he had not yet 
 attained the full development of his powers. He attracted 
 the eyes of men by his splendid promise. His life had 
 a direction toward something lofty, rare, and beautiful, 
 
 3 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 aud which, too, was all unspent when it suddenly reached 
 its close. The star was still ascending when the darkness 
 covered it. His addresses and writings will, we are sure, 
 do much to perpetuate his name. There are really few 
 things in our historical literature superior to his Carpenters' 
 Hall, Burlington Bi-Centennial, and Valley Forge orations. 
 But the fire and nobleness of his delivery, the music of his 
 voice, the charm of his unsurpassed oratory, these are gone 
 forever. 
 
 J. M. H. 
 
 New Haven, November, 1879. 
 
COKTEE"TS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Memoir of Henrt: Armitt Brown 9 
 
 Historical Orations : 
 
 Oration delivered in Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia, on the 
 One Hundredth Anniversary of the Meeting of the Con- 
 gress of 1774 213 
 
 " The Settlement of Burlington." An Oration delivered in 
 that City December 6, 1877, in Commemoration of the Two 
 Hundredth Anniversary of its Settlement .... 251 
 
 Oration at Valley Forge, June 19, 1878, the One Hundredth 
 Anniversary of the Departure of the Army of the Kevo- 
 lution from Winter Quarters at that place . . . 301 
 
 Oration composed to be delivered at Freehold, New Jersey, 
 June 28, 1878, the One Hundredth Anniversary of the 
 
 Battle of Monmouth 349 
 
 5 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
I 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 James Browne,* from'wiiom the subject of this biog- 
 rapliy was the seventh in descent, was one of the colonists 
 who came over in " the good ship Kent," and laid out the 
 town of Burlington, JSTew Jersey, towards the latter part of 
 the eighth month, 1677. This was five years before the 
 landing of William Penn and his peaceful company on the 
 banks of the Delaware. James Browne was the son of 
 Richard and Mary Browne, of Sywell, in Northampton- 
 shire, England. His father, Richard, having been con- 
 verted to the Quaker doctrine, had removed to Bedfordshire, 
 ■where the family was living when James, then a young 
 man of twenty-one, came to America with others to settle 
 on that portion of territory purchased of Lord Berkeley by 
 the Society of Friends. 
 
 In 1679, James Browne married Honour Clayton in 
 " the primitive meeting-house, made of a sail taken from 
 the Kent," being the first marriage recorded in the State 
 
 *The terminal "e" was afterwai-ds dropped to satisfy Quaker 
 simplicity. 
 
 2 9 
 
10 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 of Xew Jersey. He removed from Burlington once more 
 " into the Wilderness," dying at Nottingham, Pennsylvania, 
 in 1716. His descendants, with the exception of James 
 Brown, who, near the close of the last century, returned to 
 England and lived on his estate at Snaresbrooiv Manor, in 
 the neighborhood of London, were mostly residents of 
 Philadelpliia, and fairly represented the mercantile intelli- 
 gence, respectability, and wealth of the old Quaker families 
 of the " City of Brotherly Love." 
 
 Charles Brockden Brown, author of " Edgar Huntley," 
 and, it may be said, the originator of American novel litera- 
 ture, who was born in 1771, and died in 1810, belonged to 
 this family. He was own uncle of Henry Armitt Brown's 
 father, and his grand-nephew, in some points of character, 
 strikingly resembled him. They were both men of sen- 
 sitive natures, and were both bred to the law ; but having 
 early a strong bias toward a literary life and to that of 
 political essayists, this literary bent in the case of the first 
 drew him away entirely from the legal profession, and in 
 the case of the last exerted a powerful influence tliat was 
 gradually separating him from his practice at the bar and 
 leading him into a broader political career. 
 
 This mild strain of Quaker ancestry was mingled in the 
 subject of the present memoir with Revolutionary blood. 
 His great-grandfather upon his mother's side, Colonel 
 Benjamin Hoppin, of Providence, Rhode Island, passed 
 through the seven years of the War of Independence as a 
 captain of the Rhode Island Continentals, and was present 
 at Princeton, Red Bank, Monmouth, and other battles of 
 the Revolution ; while another maternal ancestor, Thomas 
 W^eld Philbrook, of Rhode Island, served at Ticonderoga, 
 and also suffered incredible hardships on board the "Jersey 
 prison-ship." 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. H 
 
 Henry Armitt Browx was born in Philadelphia, 
 December 1, 1844. His father, Frederick Brown, was a 
 representative business man in Philadelphia, Avhose character 
 for integrity and public spirit need not be enlarged upon, es- 
 pecially to those of his townsmen who, for half a century, so 
 well knew, and honored, and loved him ; and, although his 
 commanding presence is seen no more in the streets, he will 
 be long remembered for his geniality and sterling worth. 
 
 Although Henry exhibited mental traits of both parents, 
 yet from his mother, whose maiden name was Charlotte 
 Augusta Hoppin, it has been remarked by his friends that 
 he inherited literary tastes; for such tastes are, perhaps, as 
 frequently a matter of temperament as of education. 
 
 He was a sweet-tempered child, delicately strung, and 
 extremely sensitive to the touch and sight of harsh things 
 as if unfit to be stretched on this rough world, imaginative, 
 curious in his questionings, sympathetic and aifectionate, 
 but stubborn of will, and apt to see things in a very inde- 
 pendent and ludicrously odd light. 
 
 When an older boy, his favorite pastime was studying 
 the histories of great battles, especially those of Napoleon, 
 and also at the time those of the Crimean war, and in 
 arranging and moving companies of tin soldiers and parks 
 of artillery according to the changing plans of the battles. 
 This play was carried out on so large a scale as to attract 
 the attention of the neighbors and of older people to the 
 extent of the combinations. One whole portion of the 
 garden thus employed would become the scene of a wide 
 and hurrying conflict, platoons of soldiers shifting across 
 the field, forts blowing up, dwellings in flames, rivers 
 crossed, and discharges of artillery from the flying bat- 
 teries. " On one occasion," his younger brother relates, 
 " I, being the representative Eussian, had to build my 
 
12 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 tower and raise my parapets in order to prepare for the 
 defence of the Malakoff. Hal, as the besieging force, dug 
 his intrenchments. We each had little brass cannon, and 
 loaded them with one pellet of lead and a few grains of 
 powder, attaching to each a train of powder, so that at the 
 appointed time the fuse could be lighted, and we could 
 step oif and await the result. The attack commenced. 
 Harry brought out some forty or fifty of his men as the 
 attacking column, and while doing so was endeavoring to 
 start his cannon in order to cover and assist them, but his 
 punk would not light the fuse. I, however, was more 
 fortunate, and trained up my cannon on the assaulting 
 column, and the fuse ignited. Three or four of the enemy 
 were demolished, and the majority of them knocked down. 
 Harry, immediately on surveying the field of battle, said, 
 ' Well, Lardner, we have reversed history. The Malakoff 
 cannot be taken this afternoon. Let us get some dinner.' " 
 This boyish play, in fact, grew to be an absorbing passion, 
 turning a childish amusement into a thoughtful and fore- 
 casting exercise of the reasoning powers; and his early 
 taste seems to have long clung to him, for until he was 
 fourteen years old his principal ambition in life was to be 
 a great captain. His letters were full of military matters, 
 organization of companies, marches, and courts-martial, as 
 if they were very real things and the fate of empires hung 
 on them. He besought his father over and over ao-ain to 
 send him to West Point Academy. This throws some 
 light upon his character, which, as it sometimes happens, 
 beneath an almost feminine delicacy of organization hid a 
 nature of sinewy ambition fitted to leadership. 
 
 Harry, even as a child, had a peculiar sense of personal 
 dignity, which was disturbed at anything which seemed 
 unfairly to lower him in the eyes of others. But he was 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. 13 
 
 brimful of life, and liis mimiciy of animals and funny 
 performances at school were sources of infinite satisfaction 
 to his schoolmates, and sometimes the laughter bore away 
 on its tide both teacher and scholars. He seemed uncon- 
 scious of the pleasure he gave others. Although not domi- 
 neering, every one naturally fell under his control. He 
 was director of the mock orchestra and captain of the 
 juvenile battalion, and also a champion cricket-player, 
 difficult as this is to reconcile with his quiet habits in 
 after-life. 
 
 His excessive fondness for sport was commenced at an 
 early age, when, as a little boy, he brought in the cedar- 
 birds and small game in abundance. This love of " gun- 
 ning," as we call it in America, was carried into later life, 
 and it was increased as he grew older by his love of nature, 
 leading him into the woods and fields in rambles, accom- 
 panied only by his dogs, or along the picturesque banks 
 and silver stretches of the Delaware River, the home of 
 the duck and the little reed-bird, and the habitation of 
 innumerable bright plants and flowers. 
 
 Like most lively boys he fell to rhyming, inditing verses 
 to the young ladies at the Burlington St. jNIary's School, 
 or lampooning " ye unpopular tutor," or writing burning 
 patriotic odes, or composing German ballads "in the 
 manner of Longfellow or some other fellow." Some of 
 these effusions in point of lively wit were quite up to the 
 mark of juvenile i)erformances of most of the great poets 
 that are published. 
 
 His first instructor, outside of home walls, was Miss 
 Lucy A. Lerned, who taught school in the basement of 
 St. Luke's Church, in Philadelphia. A warm, mutual 
 esteem was always kept up between teacher and scholar, 
 as their correspondence shows. Harry's later school-days 
 
14 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 were passed at the Burlington Academy and at the board- 
 ing-school of Dr. James Gilborne Lyons, in Haverford, 
 Pennsylvania. He began to study Latin at the age of 
 seven, and obtained a " first honor" in the summer term 
 of 1853; and when he went to college, his master, Dr. 
 Lyons, wrote a letter, in which he speaks of him as " a 
 student of industrious habits and good abilities." He 
 appears to have taken captive his instructors, not only by 
 his faithfulness to his studies, but by his exceedingly win- 
 ning qualities of heart, for they follow his career with 
 words of affectionate praise. 
 
 He came up to be examined for admission to Yale Col- 
 lege in July, 1861, an unspoiled youth. If truthfulness, 
 sincerity, and purity were ever exj)ressed in a countenance, 
 they shone on his open brow. Yet it was a thoughtful 
 and serious face. His great, blue eyes asked searching 
 questions of all. Then, as always, he looked at you 
 steadily, and grasped your hand with a firm grasp. He 
 seemed at first to be half-amusingly and half-actually dazed 
 by the new responsibilities and, to him, immense vistas of 
 a great college, but it was not long before he cast himself 
 into the current of student life with an unbounded ardor. 
 He here found a congenial field for his varied talents. It 
 Avas into the brotherhood of young men he had come, and 
 his sympathies went out to all in whom he recognized an 
 honorable and sympathetic heart. There has not been 
 graduated for a long period — perhaps never, socially — a 
 more thorough-bred Yale student, one inspired by a more 
 genuine college spirit, who more whole-heartedly identified 
 himself with college life, and who infused into that life a 
 more genial influence, than he of whom we write. Though 
 both were jiopular men, the true Harry Brown of Yale 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 15 
 
 was a vastly liigher order of student than the fictitious 
 Tom Brown of Oxford. This is the testimony of his 
 classmates, and his college career is too recent for us to 
 forget it. 
 
 He was soon felt to be a social and, in some points of 
 view, intellectual power in college, — a leaven to leaven the 
 whole with the enthusiasm for true brotherhood. While 
 more ambitious of class than of scholarly distinction, there 
 was no envy or spirit of intrigue about him. He never 
 Avrought nor wriggled himself into an influential position. 
 Whatever honors he won were freely accorded to him. 
 While he did not make a positive mark as a scholar, he 
 succeeded in obtaining an excellent intellectual discipline. 
 Yale did wonders for him. He did not lose sight of this 
 object. He gained more from his college course than 
 many higher-stand men in substantial improvement. He 
 had " sensibility," which, Emerson says, is even better than 
 talent ; and he had also a remarkable power of intellectual 
 appreciativeness, though not always operating in regular 
 Avays. In merriest and maddest moods he studied his own 
 powers, his mental aptitudes, the character of his instruc- 
 tors and companions, and the best methods of influencing 
 men. The jest was succeeded by the thoughtful mood and 
 by the air of intense abstraction. Those deep-sunk, glow- 
 ing eyes underneath the square, bold forehead did not be- 
 speak a frivolous nature. Concentration, intense purpose, 
 were strongly marked. As in the legend of taking Calais 
 castle by disguised English knights, under the silken robe 
 was hid the coat of mail. He was already preparing him- 
 self for life. He read much, but independently and rather 
 scatteringly. He was fond of the classics, — the Latin poets 
 especially, — and also of history, of political economy, and, 
 to a certain extent, of philosophy, so that the studies of 
 
16 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 Senior year were particularly agreeable to him. But he was 
 soon recognized as an oif-hand speaker, — lithe, graceful, 
 never at a loss for something witty, brilliant, and telling. 
 
 Some irregularity into which he was led by an un tem- 
 pered zeal for college customs (many of them more to be 
 honored in the breach than the observance), caused him to 
 spend a part of Sophomore year in seclusion, which, how- 
 ever, in his case, did not hurt him in the estimation of his 
 classmates, nor, it might be said, of his instructors, for the 
 reason that no moral taint was ever breathed upon him. 
 He was no rioter or deep drinker. His life was irreproach- 
 able, and his sense of honor exquisite. 
 
 When fun was in order he was assuredly " Master of the 
 Revels." As humorist there was no end to his exuberant 
 drollery, his sportive fancies, and his witty invention. The 
 "Pow-wow" of June 7, 1862, in which he largely partici- 
 pated, will ever be memorable as being the best of its kind. 
 The motley chorus of his racy songs roared by the throats 
 of sturdy Sophomores struck the level of the occasion much 
 better than something more fine would have done. In 
 resolutions drafted by class committees ; in speeches de- 
 livered at class suppers; in Delta Kappa, Alpha Sigma 
 Phi, and Psi Upsilon lyrics ; in debates and war-songs of 
 the Brothers in Unity; in the organization and carry- 
 ing out the Thanksgiving Jubilees of Sophomore, Junior, 
 and Senior years ; and, above all, as one of the illustrious 
 " Cochleaureati" in the now defunct " Wooden Spoon" 
 celebration, his pen and voice were foremost. He was class 
 Mercury and Apollo — orator and poet. He was Momus 
 too. His acting was excellent in every role, comic, tragic, 
 and sentimental, and was much j^raised. A newspaper 
 writer thus spoke of it in noticing the " Wooden Sjjoon" 
 exhibition of June, 18G5 : "The colloquy of Virginia did 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 17 
 
 not refer to the unfortunate State somewhere down South, 
 but was a comic rendering of the old tragedy of Virginius. 
 Tlie author, Henry A. Brown, of Philadelphia, is the best 
 actor in the college, and personated old Virginius to per- 
 fection." Another said : " The announced poem by Plenry 
 A. Brown was omitted on account of the lateness of the 
 hour, much to the regret of the audience, as Mr. Brown's 
 poetical talents are widely known in New Haven, and are 
 of no common order. Two of the songs of the occasion 
 are from his pen, and are sufficient evidence of his superi- 
 ority in this line." 
 
 The " Wooden Spoon," as is known to those acquainted 
 with Yale life, was originally a grotesque custom instituted 
 as an award to the biggest eater, but it had lost its coarse 
 associations, and came to be highly prized by the students 
 as conferring social distinction upon those who received it. 
 They were the most popular men in the class, and who de- 
 served to be so because they were men of genuine kindness 
 and unselfish character, who, sunny-hearted themselves, 
 made " sunshine in a shady place" to others, — in a word, 
 they were heart-crowned. Well did Harry Brown merit 
 this unrecorded college honor ; and the big wooden spoon, 
 wreathed with ivy, now hanging on the wall of his silent 
 study, is a memento that to his old friends would ever speak 
 pathetically. The heart's fruits are unfading. In no evil 
 sense, but, as time went on, in a true sense, and bearing 
 many a divine fruit, he held to the poet's words, though put 
 in cynic lips, — 
 
 " Und gr'un cles Lehens goldner Baumy 
 
 In the November (1864) number of the Yale Literary 
 3Iagazme, Harry Brown contributed a versified story en- 
 titled "The Lady of Katzenjammer," in the style of the 
 
18 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " Ingoklsby Legends," — a very clever performance, com- 
 mencing and travelling on in the free-swinging pace of 
 those rollicking Irish poems. Indeed, much of his intel- 
 lectual energy was spent in these literary excursions and 
 by-paths, and especially in the life of student societies. 
 
 At a time when Yale was swarming with societies, open 
 and secret, partly derived from the German universities 
 and the old customs of the Burschen Pennalism, and partly 
 a home product, Harry Brown was a great Society man. 
 The societies did much for him, perhaps more than they 
 would do for a hundred other men of diflPerent mental 
 make. They were most assuredly not an " unmixed evil" 
 in his case. 
 
 It will not be denied that our American university sys- 
 tem, which, in some respects, is the child of our Avants 
 and a truly marvellous result of our civilization, is not 
 as yet ideally j)erfect or practically complete. The old 
 system, which had some excellent features and turned out 
 men of strong individuality, is giving way to the new, while 
 the new is not yet attained. We are in a transition, and 
 thus chaotic state. We aim at the universal and fail in the 
 particular. We glorify and perfect the system, and leave 
 the subject of it imperfectly educated. Too much is at- 
 tempted for it to be thoroughly done. The result, there- 
 fore, is sciolism rather than science. It is like grasping 
 too large a handful of which little or nothing remains in 
 the hand. " Modern education," another says, " is the 
 beginning of many things, and it is little more than a be- 
 ginning." It certainly becomes a serious question whether 
 an elementary knowledge of many things is worth as much 
 as the mastery of one rugged art, which necessitates such 
 a toughening of the mental fibre as to enable the student to 
 grasp any subject. Power balanced by character is the 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 19 
 
 highest aim of education. The culture that teaches the 
 mind its uses, that gives capacity for affairs, tliat develops a 
 harmonious and vigorous personality, should be the common 
 resultant of the various forces of a university education. 
 Mere specific training of one set of faculties is not the theory 
 of a scientific education. The severest discipline of the critical 
 powers, or of the memory, which goes to make scholars, 
 and is of the utmost value in laying the foundation of a 
 true, intellectual training, leaves untouched some of the 
 richest parts of the manifold nature of man, the aesthetic 
 and moral powers wherein, more than in others, potential 
 manhood exists. " Experience has shown that the intel- 
 lectual qualities which insure success in the discovery of 
 truth are rarely combined with the qualities which lend 
 these truths their greatest practical efficiency. The habits 
 of the study are not the best discipline for affairs," This 
 truth, so tersely put by one of our younger writers on edu- 
 cational matters, should be a hint to those who desire to 
 make a university system of education the most practically 
 effective as well as the most thoroughly scholar-like. The 
 waste of mind is too great a price to pay for the experiment 
 of theories. "Culture," says Principal Shairp,* "is not 
 the product of mere study. Learning may be got from 
 books, but not culture. It is a more living process, and 
 requires that the student at times should close his books, 
 leave his room, and mingle with his fellow-men. He must 
 seek the intercourse of living hearts, especially in the com- 
 panionship of his own contemporaries, whose minds tend 
 to elevate and sweeten his own. It is also a method of 
 self-discipline, the learning of self-control, the fixing of 
 habits, the effort to overcome what is evil, and to strengthen 
 
 * Now Professor of Poetry at Oxford. 
 
20 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 what is good in our nature." It is laying the plan of life 
 in human intercourse, in the knowledge of human nature, 
 in self-knowledge, in self-reliance, in thought as in study. 
 It is the drawing out of the energies in strife with living 
 forces, wherein what is slavish and useless is stripped away 
 and a free manhood is the result. We once came across an 
 officer, high in rank in the American army, who had dis- 
 tinguished himself in the last war for his business capacity 
 as well as gallantry in the field, — by brains as well as 
 bravery, — who, in a familiar conversation upon a hotel 
 stoop, remarked, emphatically, that the qualities and acts 
 which won him success in his professional life were just 
 those which caused his expulsion from college. This was 
 putting the matter in a way where truth is sacrificed to 
 point ; but it is a question whether such a man, or a man 
 powerful in another career, like Henry Armitt Brown, 
 would have been what either of them was if they had re- 
 stricted themselves entirely to the prescribed course, and 
 had been mere scholars while in college, or continued to be 
 mere scholars out of it. It seems, sometimes, to be regretted 
 that such force could not earlier be recognized and turned 
 into right channels. These men, in their secret heart, 
 lamented the time they may have spent in social life that 
 should have been given to thorough study : nor would 
 severe scholarship have done them more injury than polish 
 a steel blade ; but to do what they and other manly intel- 
 lects ought to do, and do it well, requires a longer time than 
 four crowded years, and a broader, scholarly ^preparation for 
 college, with a more free and professional coui'se of study 
 in the university, ending in a definite concentration upon 
 some department of study best suited to their powers. 
 This should be accomplished by the culture of their varied 
 capacities, none of which should be starved with meagre 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 21 
 
 diet, but, by being generously nourished, should develop 
 them into knowledgeable, genial, alert, strong, and useful 
 men, fitted to serve the State in any position to which they 
 might be called ; for, though we would not entirely give 
 in to the Socratic axiom that the highest good of life is 
 " practical wisdom," yet a wisdom which is unserviceable to 
 living is but a transcendental philosophy. In these remarks 
 no encouragement is meant to be given to the neglect of 
 scholarly duties, for the university is the place where schol- 
 arship is the duty and the inexpressible privilege nevet* to 
 be regained if lost. Not that good scholars are always 
 made in college (for it is a lamentable fact that they are 
 not), but M'hile there should be good scholarship, if our 
 colleges could turn out ready men as well as ready scholars, — 
 serviceable men, — who are " a measure and rule to them- 
 selves," as fit for the pursuits of public life as for critical 
 research in private study, it would be a marvellous gain. 
 This, perhaps, is what Matthew Arnold and other writers 
 mean when they vote that Greek shall not be a condition 
 to entering the university ; not that Greek is not a grand 
 attainment for a man and a gentleman, which nothing else, 
 and certainly no modern language, can take the place of, 
 but that the man should come before the scholar. 
 
 There is another dantrer difficult to define threatening our 
 universities, in which we seem to hear the warning voice of 
 a man so full of earnest purpose as was the Armitt Brown 
 of Yale days, — of ardent glow of manly intellect, however 
 irregular its flashes. The athletic epoch, chastened in his 
 time, has had its uses ; it was a much needed reform ; it 
 has done great good and will do more ; but it were a 
 lamentable triumph if, while it brought back the Greek 
 type of physical strength, it quenched the Greek type of 
 mental force. The roystering muscularity of a vast deal 
 
22 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 of English modern university life bordering on the brutal 
 we would by no means have transferred to the American 
 college. 
 
 " I past beside the reverend walls 
 
 In which of old I wore the gown ; 
 And roved at random thro' the town, 
 And saw the tumult of the halls; 
 
 " And heard once more in college fanes 
 
 The storm their high-built organs make, 
 And thunder-music, rolling, shake 
 The prophets blazoned on the panes ; 
 
 " And caught once more the distant shout. 
 The measured pulse of racing oars 
 Among the willows ; paced the shores 
 And many a bridge, and all about 
 
 " The same gray flats again, and felt 
 
 The same but not the same ; and last 
 Up that long walk of limes I past 
 To see the rooms in which he dwelt. 
 
 " Another name was on the door; 
 I linger'd ; all within was noise 
 Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys 
 That crash'd the glass and beat the floor ; 
 
 " Where once we held debate, a b.and 
 
 Of youthful friends, on mind and art, 
 And labor, and the changing mart. 
 And all the framework of the land."* 
 
 It is often said that young men at college learn more 
 from each other than they do from their teachers. Harry 
 Brown, who, at an impressionable age, possessed in an un- 
 
 * Tennyson's " In Memoriam," Ixxxvi. 
 
 I 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 23 
 
 common degree the capacity of friendship, as also the pas- 
 sion of hero-worship, was keenly alive to the inflnence of 
 his college-mates, since from the nobility of his soul he 
 recognized what there was of superiority in them, and this 
 good he constantly drew from by a manly friendship. 
 
 There was one classmate who exercised a supreme power 
 — it might be called fascination — over him, and who, in 
 fact, was the worshipped idol of his soul. Joseph Apple- 
 ton Bent was a man whose intellect consumed his body, 
 and while the flame burned it was with excessive bright- 
 ness. It was electric lio;ht too bright to last. In the 
 history of the class of '65 Harry Brown pays a hearty 
 tribute to the memory of his friend, who died three years 
 after graduation, having already made his mark as a lawyer 
 and orator. 
 
 There was a sympathy between these two young men 
 that enabled Harry to know his friend. His slumbering 
 energies, and the final direction that their activity took, 
 were fired by the inspiration of Bent's genius acting on a 
 kindred spirit; and this influence, as is sometimes the case 
 with contemplative men who have lost the heart-friends of 
 their youth, continued to hover over him like a light, like 
 a spiritual presence. What follows may seem to be an 
 enthusiastic tribute, but Bent, tried by any true standard, 
 was no common man, as he was not who thus eulogizes 
 and laments him as David did Jonathan. 
 
 " His style of speaking varied with each occasion, and seemed 
 naturally to adapt itself to all. He could be grave or gay, witty or 
 serious, solemn or animated, with equal grace; and there was, at 
 all times, a stateliness in his manner and a reserve of power remark- 
 able in one so young. His readiness and skill in debate were unsur- 
 passed. Brilliant as he was in attack, he was greatest in reply, and 
 to more than one of his admiring hearers, his slender form, sloping 
 shoulders, high forehead, and long straight nose bore a striking 
 
24 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 resemblance to the poi'traits of the younger Pitt, while his stately 
 manner and sonorous voice seemed to complete the likeness. It 
 may, perhaps, be thought that the impression which he made upon 
 his associates was deepened by their youth and enthusiasm, and that 
 their high opinion of his powers might not have been confirmed by 
 the judgment of maturer years. To a limited extent, no doubt, the 
 first remark is true; but Bent's powers may be judged, not only by 
 comparison with those of the foremost of his contemporaries, whom 
 he so far excelled, but by that highest test of the orator, the effect 
 which they produced on so many occasions in and out of college. 
 He often turned the balance of a question and carried a point against 
 what was, at the outset, a hostile sentiment. His speaking not only 
 controlled the feelings and charmed the ear, but it changed convic- 
 tion and overcame the Avill ; and, if it be objected that the one was 
 perhaps not the strongest, nor the other the most fixed, it may be 
 added that his was a mind which to a remarkable degree was sus- 
 ceptible of continuous and healthful growth, and his powers would, 
 without doubt, have kept more than equal pace with the years. No 
 one who has seen him in the full exercise of his gi'eat gift can doubt 
 that, when he died, a light was quenched that burned with the fire 
 of real genius. 
 
 '' Borri as he was for leadership, keeping ever from earliest boy- 
 hood before the eyes of men, his true character was not always appre- 
 ciated. He had a natural shyness which took the form of reserve, 
 and many thought him cold. This was a great mistake. To those 
 whom he admitted into his affections there was no friendship warmer 
 or more sincere than his, and no one had to a larger extent than he 
 the fiiculty of grappling to his own the hearts of others. The class 
 was proud of his reputation ; the world in general admired, but his 
 friends loved him. To most, even of his classmates, he Avas the 
 skilful politician, the graceful writer, the brilliant wit, the unrivalled 
 orator; but to the few to whom he revealed himself, he was the rare 
 companion, the true and tender-hearted friend. 
 
 "And in that chai'acter I, who write these lines, which do his 
 memory such scanty justice, love best to think of him. I am not 
 able, even now, to feel that Joe Bent is dead. Five years of close 
 companionship growing ever closer, — of friendship, strengthening 
 with each day, gave him a hold upon my heart which Death itself 
 has not had power to break. Across the interval of twice that length 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 25 
 
 of time the face and figure of my early friend rise, often, now before 
 my eyes. I see that slender form erect, — one foot advanced, — the 
 head thrown back, — the long right arm outstretched with open hand, 
 sweeping the air Avith graceful gesture, — the cheek flushed with 
 excitement, — the eye flashing beneath the smooth white brow, — the 
 short lip curling with the pride of conscious power, — and on my ear 
 seems still to fall the ring of that inspiring voice ! Oftener still, I 
 walk with him in the busy street and hear the shrewd, epigrammatic 
 comment on men and things. I sit beside him in some quiet place 
 and go over again the thousand great schemes for the future of which 
 his mind was full. We talk — we laugh — we argue — we debate ; — 
 just as we used to do so long ago. I share in all these hopes and fears 
 of his ; he enters into mine. Nor can he change. I may grow old 
 and alter, but Death has conferred on him for me immortal youth. 
 
 " Ten years have passed since we left old Yale together, — seven 
 since we parted not to meet again : new ties have bound me ; new 
 friends won my regard ; new associations formed around my path ; — 
 but thy place cannot be taken by another, nor shall my heart forget 
 thee, my friend." 
 
 Both these brilliant careers have been quenched, yet the 
 harmony of their lives and the memory of their friendship, 
 and the incitement of their manly ambition to lead men up 
 to something higher, and their country on to something 
 better, burn in many hearts. 
 
 Harry Brown was chosen to be the class poet, a sub- 
 stantial tribute to his popularity, if not to his poetical 
 genius. He had a vein of true poetry in him, but it is 
 rare that poetry " made to order" is of high order. Lau- 
 relled Tennyson drops a leaflet or two from his crown 
 when he writes a laureate ode. The poem delivered so 
 gracefully on Presentation Day, 1865, was not adjudged to 
 be below the mark of such performances, perhaps al)ove 
 the ordinary standard, and, with excellent taste, it was 
 natural and sincere, without attempting the sublime. His 
 classmates were satisfied that a great poet had spoken, and 
 what more could be asked ? It was altogether an interest- 
 
 3 
 
26 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 iug commencement season, tliat of 1865; and the regatta 
 at Worcester and Yale's naval victory, counting in time 
 seventeen minutes forty-two and a half seconds, in which 
 another of his classmates, AVilbur Russell Bacon, distin- 
 guished himself as stroke-oar, illusti*ating the strenuous 
 motto of the class, Oo XoyoKn 'all ipyoutji, added to the 
 glories of the occasion. At this commencement occurred 
 the ever-memorable patriotic memorial of Yale's dead 
 soldiers, at which William Evarts presided and Horace 
 Bushnell spoke. 
 
 Henry Armitt was also selected to be one of the class 
 historians, a more honorable than, it would seem to be, 
 desirable office, and while, as is the custom at this occasion, 
 he thrust men througli and through with his historic blade, 
 he also managed to bring them to life again and to make 
 them laugh heartily without making them angry ; for his 
 wit was not that sort of which Jeremy Taylor speaks, 
 "which hath teeth and nails to bite and devour thy 
 brother." His graceful little " Ivy Song," sung by the 
 class under the walls of the library building, fitly closes 
 his college career with its thoughtful ending. 
 
 He spoke afterwards thus humorously of his class at 
 their triennial meeting : 
 
 " It may not be known to you, ladies and gentlemen, that the 
 class of '65 was always a remarkable class. It is true we were 
 not distinguished for accurate scholarsliip. I remember on one 
 occasion a prize was offered to us, but there was no mathematician 
 in our class to claim it. For the class of '65 turned to other things 
 the attention which some of its predecessors had given to mathe- 
 matics, and the only mathematicians among us are certain of our 
 married brethren, who have made examples of themselves by 
 coming here to-night increased to two, and some of them with one 
 to carry. No, we were never distinguished for our scholarship. 
 In calculus we found incalculable trouble; conies delighted us not; 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 27 
 
 we saw nothing to admire in analytics but its first two syllables. 
 "We knew little Latin and less Greek. We sought to read the stars 
 by other methods than those which astronomy teaches, and we were 
 more familiar with the courts of the Areopagus than with the 
 philosophy of the Academy. We were, in fact, the Samaritans of 
 the college, for ' we feared the faculty, and served our own gods.' " 
 
 If there be truth in this jesting language, both as respects 
 others and himself, it is a wrong judgment to suppose that 
 in the speaker's case the stern nurse, Yale, did nothing for 
 his real growth. This has been emphatically denied. On 
 the contrary, she did everything. No college in the land 
 could have done better for him. Where he seemed careless 
 he drew constant nourishment and strength. It was at 
 Yale that he acquired the power to think, to write, and to 
 speak, — three great acquisitions for a man. But, as has 
 been said, he learned what he did in pretty much his own 
 methods, seeking what he thought he needed most, not 
 always judging rightly, but retaining his individuality, and 
 steadily, even obstinately, refusing to be run into the 
 common mould. The teachers who nourished, for better 
 or worse, the intellectual young men at that time, w^ere 
 Motley, Macaulay, Emerson, Matthew Arnold, Herbert 
 Spencer, and John Stuart Mill. It was then, as now, a 
 conflict of free thought, but of transition, we believe, to a 
 higher or more productive philosophy. It was also then, 
 at Yale, about the beginning of the struggle {Kulturhampf) 
 after a broader literary and scientific culture than had 
 before existed. Thackeray bore away the palm from 
 Chauvenet, and Auerbach from Ueberweg ; but no young 
 man of good mind could remain during a college course, 
 under the solid training of President Woolsey and other 
 instructors of old Yale, Avithout gaining sturdy intel- 
 lectual growth, enriched scientific knowledge, and disci- 
 
28 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 plined habits of mind. The career of Henry Armitt 
 Brown after leaving college confirms this assertion ; and 
 if his Alma Mater has reason to be proud of him, he 
 often expressed himself as proud of her, and he was ever 
 a most loyal son of Yale. 
 
 We made a reference to the triennial meeting of the 
 class of '65, at which meeting Harry acted as chairman, 
 and, as this in some sense belongs to the period of college 
 life, although it is anticipating three years, we will speak 
 of it here again. It was held in New Haven, July 22, 
 1868, and just sixty-five of the members were present and 
 sat down to dinner. Harry presided with genial dignity, 
 wit, and grace. The " silver cup presentation" to tlie first- 
 born child of the class formed not the least interesting and 
 mirth-provoking part of the doings of the evening. The 
 president introduced the ceremony with some happy words. 
 The " Cup Song," in honor of the " class-boy," the son of 
 Henry Clay McCreary, of California, was sung with hearti- 
 ness. We give it as a reminiscence of college days and of 
 Yale customs, which, perhajis, to some readers, may be novel 
 and will amuse them : 
 
 SONG. 
 
 BY HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Air — '■'John Brown's Bodyy 
 
 Like bees with honey laden that are crowding to their hives, 
 
 We have gathered here to-night, my friends, our children and our 
 
 wives, 
 To make a little noise, if ne'er before in all our lives, 
 For Yale and Sixty-five. 
 
 Chorus. — Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. 
 
 We have longed to see this evening since our Freshman year began. 
 And how often have we wondered which of us would lead the van : 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 29 
 
 But to-night the question's settled and McCreary is the man ! 
 Hurrah for Sixty-five! 
 Choms. 
 
 You're a lucky man, McCreary, and honor you we should ; 
 You've done us all great credit, and the best a fellow could. 
 There are some of us yet single, — your example will do good 
 To your friends of Sixty-five. 
 Chorus. 
 
 We all one day will follow in the course that you have run, 
 And if Fortune smiles upon us, we shall do as you have done ; 
 And each one ere his setting see the rising of his son, 
 Like this boy of Sixty-five. 
 Cliorus. 
 
 Then fill your glasses, classmates, for a bumper; while ye sup 
 Give three cheers for McCreary and his lady ! shake it up ! ! 
 All honor to the fellow who has won the silver cup 
 Of the class of Sixty-five ! ! ! 
 Chorus. 
 
 May the God who watches o'er us smile on the little boy, 
 Pour in this cup His blessings till it runneth o'er with joy, 
 And make his years like links of gold, untarnished with alloy. 
 Is the prayer of Sixty-five. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Accept, then, blessed baby, in the name of Mother Yale, 
 Your hundred uncles' loving gift; grow noble, brave, and hale; 
 And when you quaff its contents, may remembrance never fail 
 Of Yale and Sixty-five. 
 Chorus. 
 
 May it keep your head forever clear, your heart forever true ; 
 And as long as you will stick to it, be sure we'll stick to you ; 
 And now, you small McCreary, we'll give three times three for you, 
 Cup-boy of Sixty-five ! 
 Chorus. 
 
30 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 We cannot leave Hany Bro^yn's college life without 
 giving an extract or two from a letter of one of his own 
 classmates and most intimate friends : 
 
 " Harry, while in college, studied the languages with an 
 appreciation and enjoyment that belonged to no one else in 
 the class. This was evidenced by the thorough familiarity 
 with the style of each author, by the ease with which he 
 could, at any time, recall passages remarkable for some fine 
 shade of thought, imagery, or delicacy of expression. He 
 would often astonish us by quoting at length, and with no 
 hesitation whatever, from Homer or from the Latin poets, 
 and when we expressed surprise and asked how he could 
 recall them, he would answer that he did not kno\v, and 
 that he did it with no effort. He was particularly fond of 
 Horace, and apt at repeating passages from him. These 
 quotations were never for show, but always came in pat, 
 suggested by some little every-day happening. From the 
 study of other branches, such as metaphysics, history of 
 English literature, and of civilization, political economy, 
 etc., I know he acquired great good, and why he did not 
 show this in his recitations to a greater degree I never 
 could quite understand. I have thought that perhaps it 
 might be that he grasped principles rather than the words 
 and detail with which they were expounded by an author. 
 Then, too, we know that he was strikingly original, — fond 
 of following up his own thoughts, — and no doubt often, 
 when he sat down with his Wayland, his Hamilton, or 
 Hopkins, would find himself thinking in directions sug- 
 gested by what he read, rather than mastering what he read 
 with special reference to a recitation. 
 
 " He was a keen observer of human nature, and he 
 caught intuitively the peculiarities of mind and character 
 of each of his classmates. Recognizino; this, we made him 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 31 
 
 one of our class historians, and a better choice could not 
 have been made. Wiien on Presentation Day he rose to 
 read what he had written, there came a treat to those who 
 heard, which will always be remembered. 
 
 " He had a quick sense of the ridiculous, and a vein of 
 quiet humor that enlivened all his talk and writing. He 
 enjoyed exercising this gift, aiid might have done so in 
 after-life to the expense of the higher fame which he 
 achieved, but for an incident which, I believe, changed his 
 current. A rather heavy subject for composition had been 
 given out, and when he was called upon he read a produc- 
 tion which from beginning to end kept the class in un- 
 controllable merriment. Our instructor, however, partly 
 because he considered the proprieties violated, and partly 
 because he saw the danger that the gift of wit brings to the 
 bright mind by the temptation to indulge it at the cost of 
 higher faculties, criticised him severely. Being of an ex- 
 ceedino;lv sensitive nature he took the thino; to heart, as 
 was shown by the restraint he placed upon himself in all 
 class exercises of like nature afterwards, Not long before 
 his death, and when he was in the midst of his fame, he 
 complained to me that he had entirely lost this old-time 
 appreciation of humor ; but he was wrong here. His let- 
 ters and his conversation always sparkled with wit, as did 
 his response to the toast, ' The Junior Members of the 
 Bar.' His standard was simply higher, and his themes 
 were of too noble and heroic a character to admit of its 
 indulgence. 
 
 " I remember Harry most pleasantly in college for his 
 love of nature. Sometimes he would gratify it by long, 
 lonely tramps, when in peculiar moods, but he generally 
 craved companionship. A cloud-picture, or unusual ap- 
 pearance of the sky or light upon the hills, a fine sunset or 
 
32 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 a gathering storm, never escaped him or failed to bring 
 him vivid pleasure. 
 
 " I distinctly remember my first meeting with him. It 
 was at the beginning of Freshman year. I had secured 
 board at the table of two maiden ladies, near the Sheffield 
 school. At my first meal a thin, pale boy, with large gray 
 eyes, came in with me. He had just graduated from some 
 military school, which was evidenced by the semi-military 
 cap he wore looking more warlike than he did. We were 
 all Freshmen at the table, and before long the restraint of 
 newly coming together wore away. We all passed a most 
 pleasant year together, for which we were indebted to 
 Harry's vivacity and good company more than anything 
 else. He was of a uniformly happy temper, and always 
 showed the kindest consideration for others' feelings. 
 
 " I loved Harry, was proud of his successes, proud of 
 his friendship, and I cherish his memory." 
 
 Soon after their graduation Harry, with his friend Bent 
 and others of his classmates, joined the Columbia Law 
 School, in New York City. Here, with a great enthusi- 
 asm for Professor Theodore Dwight and a moderate enthu- 
 siasm for the study itself, and with many interruptions and 
 breaks by other pursuits, — literary, social, and political, — 
 he read law for a year. On December 8, 1865, he Avas 
 admitted to the membership of the Union League Club 
 of Philadelphia, for which association he afterwards did 
 knightly service. In July, 1866, in company with Mr. 
 Adolph Borie's family, he sailed for Europe, where he 
 passed sixteen months in travel, during which time he 
 visited the countries of Europe, with the exception of Rus- 
 sia, Sweden, Norway, and Spain. The following winter 
 he spent in going up the Nile, sailing for Egypt from 
 
FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 33 
 
 Brindisi. He ascended to the second cataract in his own 
 boat. He went from Egypt to Palestine, riding from Jaffa 
 to Jerusalem, and through Palestine and Syria to Damas- 
 cus, returning to Italy by the way of Smyrna, Constanti- 
 nople, Athens, and Sicily. He came home improved in 
 health, having before suffered from dyspepsia. In a letter 
 replying to one from a committee of his class, he answers 
 categorically several questions in relation to his manner of 
 life since leaving college. Among other things he says : 
 " My future expectations are moderate and modest. I do 
 not expect great success, but I do not anticipate failure. So 
 far as I can recall I have married no one ; from Avhich you 
 may conclude that, as to children, ' I have none to speak of.' " 
 About this time he relates in a letter to a clerical friend 
 of his family (which letter we subjoin) a remarkable dream, 
 worth recording as a psychological phenomenon : 
 
 " May 3, 1869. 
 
 " Rev. and dear Sir, — After many delays I send you a short 
 account of the dream which excited your interest last summer. 
 
 " In the fall of 1865, I think it was in the month of November, 
 while I was studying law in the city of New York, I retired to my 
 room about midnight of a cold blustering evening. I remember dis- 
 tinctly hearing the clock strike twelve as I lay in bed watching the 
 smouldering fire until drowsiness crept upon me and I slept. I had 
 hardly lost consciousness when I seemed to hear loud and confused 
 noises, and felt a choking sensation at my throat as if it were grasped 
 by a strong hand. I awoke (as it seemed), and found myself lying 
 on my back on the cobble-stones of a narrow street, writhing in the 
 grip of a low-browed, thick-set man, with ' unkempt hair and grizzled 
 beard,' who, with one hand at my throat and holding my wrist with 
 the other, threw his weight upon me and held me down. 
 
 " From the first I knew that his desire was to kill me, and my 
 struggles were for life. I recall distinctly the sense of horror at first 
 and then that of furious determination which took possession of me. 
 
 " I did not make a sound, but with a sudden eSbrt threw him half 
 
34 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 off me, clutched him frantically by the hair, and in my agony bit 
 furiously at his throat. Over and over we rolled upon the stones. 
 My strength began to give way before the fury of my struggles, — 
 I saw that my antagonist felt it and smiled a ghastly smile of triumph. 
 
 "Presently I saw him reach forth his hand and grasp a bright 
 hatchet. Even in this extremity I noticed that the hatchet Avas new 
 and apparently unused, with glittering head and white polished 
 handle. I made one more tremendous fight for life ; for a second I 
 held my enemy powerless, and saw with such a thrill of delight as 
 I cannot forget the hori'or-stricken faces of friends, within a rod of 
 us, rushing to my rescue. As the foremost of them sprang upon the 
 back of my antagonist he wrenched his wrist away from me. I saw 
 the hatchet flash above my head, and felt instantly a dull blow on 
 the foi'ehead. 
 
 " I fell back on the ground, a numbness spread from my head over 
 my body, a warm liquid flowed down upon face and into my mouth, 
 and I remember the taste was of blood, and my ' limbs were loosed.' 
 
 " Then I thought I was suspended in the air a few feet above my 
 body. I could see myself as if in a glass, lying on the back, the 
 hatchet sticking in the head, and the ghastliness of death gradually 
 spreading over the face. I noticed especially that the wound made 
 by the hatchet was in the centre of the forehead, at right angles to 
 and divided equally by the line of the hair. I heard the weeping of 
 friends, at first loud then growing fiiinter, fading away into silence. 
 A delightful sensation of sweet repose without a feeling of fetigue 
 — precisely like that which I experienced years ago at Cape May, 
 when beginning to drown — crept over me. I heard exquisite music ; 
 the air was full of rare perfumes ; I sank upon a bed of down}' soft- 
 ness — when, with a start, I awoke. The fire still smouldered in the 
 grate ; my watch told me I had not been more than half an hour 
 asleep. 
 
 "Early the next morning I joined an intimate friend, with whom 
 I spent much of my time, to accompany him, as was my daily custom, 
 to the Law School. We talked for a moment of various topics, when 
 suddenly he interrupted me with the remark that he had dreamed 
 strangely of me the night before. 
 
 " ' Tell me,' I asked ; ' what was it?' 
 
 " 'I fell asleep,' he said, 'about twelve, and immediately dreamed 
 that I was passing through a narrow street, when I heard noises and 
 
ADMISSION TO THE BAR. 35 
 
 cries of imirder. Iluvrying in the direction of tlie noise, I saw yon 
 lying on your back fighting Avitli a rough lal)oring man, who held 
 you down. I rushed forward, hut as I reached you he struck you 
 on the head with a hatchet, and killed you instantly. INIany of our 
 friends were there, and we cried bitterly. In a moment I awoke, 
 and so vivid had been my dream that my cheeks were wet with tears.' 
 
 " ' What sort of man was he?' I asked. 
 
 " 'A thick-set man, in a flannel shirt and rough trousers : his hair 
 was uncombed, and his beard was grizzly and of a few days' growth.' 
 
 " Within a week I was in Burlington, New Jersey. I called at a 
 friend's house. 
 
 " ' My husband,' said his wife to me, ' had such a horrid dream 
 about you the other night. He dreamed that a man killed you in a 
 street fight. Tie ran to help you, but before he reached the spot your 
 enemy had killed you with a great club.' 
 
 " 'Oh, no,' cried the husband across the room ; 'he killed you with 
 a hatchet.' 
 
 " These are the circumstances as I recall them. I remembered 
 the remark of old Artaphernes, that dreams are often the result of a 
 train of thought started by conversation or reading, or the incidents 
 of the working time, but I could recall nothing, nor could either of 
 ray friends cite any circumstance ' that ever they had read, had ever 
 heard by tale or history,' in which they could trace the origin of this 
 remarkable dream. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, very truly yours, 
 
 "Henry Armitt Brown. 
 
 " P.S. — I may add that these friends of mine were personally un- 
 known to each other. 
 
 " The first one, in New York, dreamed that he was the foremost 
 who reached the scene, the other that he was one of the number who 
 followed ; both of which points coincided with my own dream." 
 
 Mr. Brown resumed his study of the law in the office 
 of Daniel Dougherty, Esq., of Philadelphia, and was 
 admitted to the bar as an attorney in the District Court 
 of Common Pleas, December 18, 1869. According to a 
 note of congratulation from Mr. Dougherty, "he passed 
 the best examination of all those who applied at that time." 
 
36 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 He devoted himself faithfully to liis legal studies ; but in 
 April, 1870, he went again to Europe, in company with 
 William P. Pepper, Esq., and travelled through Sweden, 
 ^NTorway, and Russia, countries left unvisited in his former 
 trip, returning home the following November. In Russia 
 the constant society of his friend, Eugene Schuyler, Esq., 
 not only added to his pleasure but his profit as a traveller. 
 While absent he wrote several letters to the Philadelphia 
 Press. These letters show descriptive power without any 
 clap-trap. He gives in one of them an account of " The 
 Derby Day" of 1 8 70: 
 
 " A thousand notorieties around. There is the famous turfite 
 So-and-so, and yonder the celebrated jockey who won the Derby 
 of such a year. That man in a white hat and a gray coat, with a 
 field-glass hung over his shoulder, who gesticulates so violently to 
 a circle of the sporting gentry, is Tom King. Every man about 
 you is shouting to his companion. Fellows with bands on their 
 hats, and books and pencils in their hands, are offering bets here 
 and there in all directions. On the stand above you a number of 
 ladies have already taken their seats, and are gazing down upon 
 the crowd with interested faces, hushed into silence by the confusion 
 and wild disorder. There is royalty close by you, for in that corner 
 of the box of the Jockey Club the King of the Belgians is chatting 
 with the Prince of Wales. But you turn suddenly from royalty as 
 you hear some one exclaim, 'Look, there's Gladstone!' and recog- 
 nize in the box above you, in the tallest of the three men who have 
 just entered, the strong, grand, thoughtful fixce of the prime minister. 
 It is whispered that he was never before seen at a race, and thou- 
 sands of curious eyes are fixed upon him." 
 
 While battling about in the English Channel, he thinks 
 that, though a hundred recipes and drinks have been in- 
 vented, " there is no cure for sea-sickness like smooth 
 water." In one of his letters from Northern Europe he 
 gives a bit of description of Swedish scenery on the ride 
 towards Stockholm : 
 
LETTERS FROM ABROAD. 37 
 
 '' Frederickshall lies between two lofty hills at the mouth of a 
 little river that pours into the sea. From it to a point in Sweden 
 called Strand a new road has just been opened through a lovely 
 country. We started in cai'ioles early in the afternoon. The 
 carlole has been often enough described to me, and it answers 
 perfectlj^ the description. For the first hour or two the motion was 
 dreadful, especially when we had to go slowly. You sit in a sort 
 of leather box hung between two long springing shafts, and when 
 the horse walks or trots slowly you are tumbled up and down, this 
 side and that, all at once. When he goes rapidly and down-hill, or 
 fairly runs, the motion is more regular and your misery less acute. 
 However, in the course of a few hours' driving the disagreeableness 
 disappears, and I fancy that cariole driving may become with prac- 
 tice easy, just as camel riding in the East. One could hardly 
 imagine a more picturesque road than that which leads from Fred- 
 erickshall to Strand. For a time it follows the rocky banks of the 
 torrent which meets the sea at Frederickshall, and then turning 
 aside between two lofty hills descends to the banks of an exquisite 
 lake, in the bosom of which lie twenty bright green islets. Now 
 it winds around the shoulder of a rugged hill, and again sweeps 
 down into a peaceful valley filled with fields of grain, and then, 
 as if tired of civilization, plunges suddenly into the depths of a 
 dark forest. On every side gigantic trees of great girth interlace 
 their dark branches, wrapped in a drapery of moss that clings 
 about them and sweeps upon ihe ground, till they look like ghosts 
 of the old demi-gods, clad in the mouldering garments of the 
 grave, shaking their hoary arms threateningly at the adventurous 
 traveller who dares invade their solitude. Deeper and deeper 
 your narrow path winds into the forest. Great rocks lie scattered 
 around, and the thick branches overhead make a perpetual twilight. 
 Suddenly the scene changes. You come out upon the shores of 
 a little lake, and a flock of ducks rise in haste and fly ofi" with 
 loud whistling of their wings. You have left the whispering pines 
 and the hemlocks, and the bright sunlight shines down upon the 
 dusty road. So the scene changes again and again until you 
 have passed the lovely lakes and begin to descend into a valley, 
 in which, by the shore of an eleventh one, you see the smoke rising 
 from the smoke-stack of a steamer. Here you bid adieu to your 
 cariole." 
 
38 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 In another letter there is a sunny picture of Elsinore : 
 
 " One of the loveliest spots ia all Europe is certainly Elsinore. 
 The sun was shining brightly on the old castle, and the blue sea 
 was whitened with sails. The coast of Sweden, wooded to the very 
 shore, witli here and there the towers of a chateau peeping above 
 the trees, looked smilingly across the narrow straits, and on the 
 Danish side the white beach with a strip of meadow, and then tall 
 banks, waving with their dark-green trees, stretched from the town 
 far away northward. Kronberg is a fine old pile with pointed 
 towers, and, standing on the point where the straits are narrowest, 
 looms up imposingly, especially when looked at from the sea. But 
 that which fills the mind at the mention of Elsinore is not the old 
 castle, nor the older town, nor the beautiful streets, nor the enchant- 
 ing picture of land, sea, and sk}'. At first I was disposed to be 
 merry with the Hamlet idea, and sent a servant to inquire if the 
 Lord Hamlet was within. One fellow had never heai'd of his lord- 
 ship, but his more learned comrade answered that he was dead and 
 buried in the rear of the hotel. But the very air of Elsinore fills 
 you with thoughts of the sweet prince. I thought and dreamed 
 and talked of Hamlet, until I felt like a walking edition of the play 
 bound in cloth. How easy to imagine that yonder orchard, sloping 
 to the sea, was the scene where the old king was sleeping, his 
 ' custom alway of the afternoon,' or that in the church-yard close 
 by occurred the stormy meeting with Laertes ; and I found it hard 
 to realize, as I looked out that night to where the moon, struggling 
 with the clouds, touched with silver the castle battlements, that it 
 was not upon that very platform, on just such a night, that Hamlet 
 ti'embled before the apparition of his father." 
 
 He speaks of the pleasing character of the voyage from 
 Stockholm to St. Petersburg, descending the river-like gulf 
 with its countless islands, until you emerge into the Baltic 
 and soon enter the archipelago, which, under the name of 
 the Aland Islands, stretches almost continuously from the 
 Swedish to tiie Finnish coast. In Russia he visited Moscow 
 and Nijni-Novgorod, giving crisp touches of life as well as 
 of scenery : 
 
LETTERS FROM ABROAD. 39 
 
 " The hotter the weather the more the Russian clothes himself. 
 Even the boys go about muffled in heavy coats, and at noon on the 
 warmest day, when the heat is intense, the Russian is to be seen on 
 the open squares of St. Petersburg wrapped in his enormous over- 
 coat. He is much more indulgent to his legs, for they are often 
 clad in white linen trousers, the effect of which, peeping beneath a 
 heavy overcoat, is rather odd, and gives the appearance of a figure 
 draped to illustrate the changes of the seasons, with midwinter 
 about the body and midsummer at the extremities. 
 
 " Had the famous tea of Boston been Russian ' chai,' brought 
 overland instead of being tossed half a year on the ocean, our fore- 
 fathers, who threw it into the harbor, would have been patriots 
 indeed ! Perhaps they thought the sacrifice enough as it was, 
 though ' they fought and bled and died' without having known the 
 purpose for which tea was created. In Russia it is no thin watery 
 liquid, pale with milk or cream, handed about in tiny cups to be 
 sipped by gossiping lips ; it is a rich, clear amber, poured while 
 boiling hot into tall tumblers of thin glass, and delicately sweet- 
 ened. It is the Russian beverage day and night, and everywhere 
 you find it of the best. 
 
 "But the most interesting spot, and the first sought by the 
 stranger, is Mont Plaisir, where the great Peter died. It is a little 
 low villa, consisting of a large hall, with a row of small chambers 
 on either side. It stands on a terrace, close by the water's edge, 
 and it w^as while watching the bay with his spy-glass from the 
 terrace that the Czar saw a boat in trouble, and hastening to the 
 rescue caught the cold that cost him his life. He died in a little 
 room opening out of the great hall. Behind a tall screen is the 
 iron bedstead on which he breathed his last ; the sheets and pillow 
 lie upon it, and his faded silk dressing-gown is folded at the foot. 
 His slippers are on the floor close by, and everything is preserved 
 as it was on the day of his death." 
 
 At the famous fair of Nijni-Novgorod he seemed to 
 think that it was indeed a great " sell/' since things of no 
 value were exposed for sale as well as valuables; that it 
 was "a matter of degrees/' as the French judge said to 
 Dumas when the latter was hesitating to describe himself as, 
 a dramatic autlior. He pictures one old fellow, "bearded, 
 
40 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 venerable, and indescribably dirty, sitting in the sun by 
 a piece of old cloth, on which a few rags, some broken 
 glasses, and an ancient newspaper or two were tastefully 
 arranged for sale. I may do his stock injustice, — there 
 might have been a nail or two." 
 
 Upon Mr. Brown's second return home he settled him- 
 self down to his professional studies. He shook off the 
 slight dilettantism, which was the mingled product of a 
 fondness for society and the cherishing, in a time of life 
 betwixt the ideal and the actual, of something of a Hamlet- 
 like spirit of thoughtful inaction, or " scruple of thinking 
 too precisely on the event." He was a dreamer, though 
 an earnest one. As in college, while ever pondering it, he 
 had not found his work. He had not heard the bugle-call. 
 He talked of the " palmam non sine pulvere," but he did 
 not descend into the dust of the strife. The associations of 
 early years clung about him, and he was more of a loiterer 
 in those green imaginative meads than a laborer in the real 
 field. But he was ready to do whatever was congenial to 
 him. He became greatly interested in the organization of 
 the Yale Alumni Club of Philadelphia, in 1871, of whose 
 executive committee he was a most executive secretary, 
 writing, speaking, and laboring in every way for it ; and 
 to the end of his life he was one of its most efficient mem- 
 bers, diffusing much of his enthusiasm into this and other 
 similar associations which were founded one after another 
 throughout the country. He frequently spoke in his neat, 
 sensible, but modest style at the dinners given in Phila- 
 delphia, New York, and other cities ; and when he did not 
 speak, he sang, or rather, furnished the songs. 
 
 This leads us to notice a more extended flight of his 
 muse in the poem delivered at Providence, Rhode Island, 
 before the Thirty-eighth Annual Convention of the Psi 
 
PST UPSILON POEM. 41 
 
 Upsilon Fraternity, liekl witli the Sigma Chapter of Brown 
 University. This was, perhaps, his best poetic effort. It 
 is bright and pure, as everything he did was. It is musical, 
 and deals with difficult metres such as young poets are apt 
 to mesh themselves in, with an easy mastery of rhythm. 
 It is well conceived, too, and has a more earnest ring than 
 anything heretofore. It awakes a faint recollection of 
 Edgar Poe's " Raven" in its changing melody, its vague 
 and fanciful plot. It w^on a kindly word from Bret Harte, 
 who pronounced it " clever," as well as praise from others, 
 which he valued not less. 
 
 Among the many institutions of a highly cultivated and 
 literary city like Philadelphia, there is none more quaint 
 than the " Shakspeare Society," which, it is enough to say, 
 numbers among its members Horace Howard Furness, 
 Esq., editor of the New A'^ariorum edition of Shakspeare. 
 Meeting together in an upper room, hung around with 
 historical pictures, and provided amply with the best 
 Shakspearian editions, dictionaries, and commentaries, this 
 truly " worshipfull societie" (mostly composed of lawyers) 
 do excellent work, which, it is to be hoped, will not all 
 be lost and "turne to ashes" with the smoke of their 
 pipes. Mr. Brown was an active member of this club, 
 and the thorough philologic drill of these critical evenings 
 in contact with Shakspeare did his style no injury. It 
 grew more Saxon, nervous, and idiomatic. The influence 
 of his study of Shakspeare, as well as of Horace, after 
 leaving college, is perceptible in its power upon his oratory, 
 giving it elegant finish, condensation, and tactical dexterity 
 in dealing with mind. At the annual dinner of the society, 
 26tli of April, upon the birthday of " GuUehnus Filius 
 Johannes Shaksjiere,'" his hand is seen in the culling of 
 choice citations, like spicy flowers, from that portion of the 
 
 4 
 
42 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 bard's works which had been studied during the preceding 
 winter. 
 
 " Theyearely course that brings this day about, 
 Shall never see it, but a holy day." 
 
 Leaving these lighter intellectual excursions, wholesome 
 as well as pleasant though they may have been, we come to 
 the professional and legal period of Mr. Brown's life. He 
 buckled himself to his work in right man-fashion. We 
 find his name in the courts doing the tasks and the drudg- 
 ery that usually fall to the lot of the young attorney. He 
 had begun to appreciate the sensible words of another : 
 " Of all the work that produces results, nine-tenths must 
 be drudgery. There is no work, from the highest to the 
 lowest, which can be done well by any man who is unwill- 
 ing to make that sacrifice. Part of the very nobility of the 
 devotion of the true workman to his work consists in the 
 fact that a man is not daunted by finding that drudgery must 
 be done ; and no man can really succeed in any walk of life 
 without a good deal of what in ordinary English is called 
 pluck. That is the condition of all work whatever, and it 
 is the condition of all success. Lawyers acquire the faculty 
 of resolutely applying their minds to the driest documents 
 with tenacity enough to end in the perfect mastery of their 
 contents ; a feat which is utterly beyond the capacity of aoy 
 undisciplined intellect, however gifted by nature." He 
 plodded patiently through the " briefless" desert that leads 
 to the Promised Land. He, however, acquitted himself 
 with credit whenever an opportunity came for him to 
 speak as junior counsel in the conduct of cases. Thus, 
 in the trial of his first murder case, before the Oyer and 
 Terminer Court, in the month of April, 1871, he showed, 
 for a young man, according to the testimony of the legal 
 
PROFESSIONAL LIFE. 43 
 
 gentlemen engaged, uncommon ability and acumen. It 
 was a case of identification. There was some variation in 
 the evidence, which was skilfully seized upon and made use 
 of by the defence. INIr. Brown's conduct of the case, as 
 well as that of his colleague, were complimented "highly 
 by the opposing counsel for the Commonwealth, and were 
 characterized as " worthy of older practitioners" ; and this 
 was said in reference to notably shrewd Philadelphia law- 
 yers, to each of whom, doubtless, the words of Juvenal 
 would apply : 
 
 '■'■Qui juris nodos et Icgum cenigmata solvat.^^ 
 
 In the report of the case, the close of Mr. Brown's argu- 
 ment was characterized as " aifecting, and was listened to 
 with marked attention." His admirable conduct of the 
 case and his strong speech doubtless saved the man. After 
 this Mr. Brown was engaged from time to time in criminal 
 and other cases of more or less importance, always acquit- 
 ting himself well and giving his best efforts to his work. 
 Whether, if he had lived longer, he would have come 
 under the category mentioned by Rufus Choate that " case- 
 losing lawyers would have no cases to lose" we know not, 
 but he assuredly made an uncommonly successful begin- 
 ning, and awakened high hopes of future eminence at the 
 bar. One public speech of his deserves fuller notice, as 
 bringing him at once into prominence in the profession as 
 a man of brilliant oratorical powers. 
 
 On the 19tli of December, 1872, a complimentary dinner 
 was given at the Continental Hotel, by the Philadelphia 
 Bar, to the Hon. ex-Chief-Justice Thompson. There was 
 a very large assembly of the bar, and of the judges of the 
 various courts. The best legal talent of the city was repre- 
 sented. The guests numbered sdme three hundred. It 
 
44 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 was, in fact, one of the most marked and impressive occa- 
 sions of the kind wliich had ever taken place in the city. 
 Peter McCall, Esq., who presided, responded to the first 
 regular toast, and was followed by Chief-Justice Read, < 
 
 Hon. George W. Woodward, Hon. Morton McMichael, and \ 
 
 many other distinguished gentlemen. While the speeches I 
 
 now and then scintillated with humor, they were mostly , 
 
 solid addresses, befitting the dignified and thoroughly pro- f 
 
 fessional character of the occasion. The eighth and last { 
 
 regular toast of the evening was : 
 
 " The Juniors of the Bar.'' 
 
 — " illi turba Clientiuin 
 Sit major." — Hor. Od. 
 "We are all engaged in the same ministry, — we are one brother- 
 hood, — members of one common profession, of which we have a right 
 to be proud." — Mr. Justice Sharswoocl, Bar Dinner, 1867. 
 
 " Et vosmetipsos sic eruditos ostendite, ut spes vos puleherrima 
 foveat, toto legitimo opere perfecto, posse etiam nostram rempubli- 
 cam in partibus ejus vobis credendis gubernari." — Just. Proem. 
 
 This was responded to by Henry Armitt Brown, Esq., 
 in the following words : 
 
 " Mr. President, — Somewhere in the varied reading of a boyhood, 
 from which, as you have no dou1)t observed, I have but recently 
 emerged, I remember to have found an anecdote of the elephant. 
 In a truthful work, compiled by a philanthropic lady, called 'Anec- 
 dotes of Animals,' you will find it somewhere written that it is the 
 habit of those sagacious brutes, when they come to a deep and rapid 
 river, to send over first the smallest of the herd, assured that if he 
 ford it in safety the largest may attempt the crossing without incon- 
 venience or danger. To-night, sir, you have reversed this proceed- 
 ing. One by one the leaders of this company have passed this 
 current of good-fellowship with firm footsteps and majestic tread, 
 and now, safe upon the other side, you summon to the crossing the 
 smallest of you all, that fr(im your places of ease and security you 
 
SPEECH AT THE THOMPSON DINNER. 45 
 
 may enjoy his flounderings. I represent that portion of the Junior 
 Bar which may be called the " great unemployed." I speak for those 
 unfortunates to whom, thus far, the law has seemed less oi a practice 
 than of n profession. I am well aware, sir, that in the early days of 
 our seniors at the bar things were quite different. I am credibly 
 informed that in their time the client did the waiting, not the lawyer. 
 When they had crammed into two years the work of seven, — when 
 they had skimmed through such text-books as chance and their in- 
 clinations had suggested, — when they had satisfied the inquiring 
 minds of the board of examiners as to the action of assumpsit or the 
 estate in fee-simple, — they doubtless found an impatient turba client- 
 ium awaiting their coming from the examination-room, burning to 
 seek their counsel and cram their pockets with glittering fees. The 
 times are changed; clients are changed, and we have fallen on de- 
 generate days. We sit long years in solitude. Like Mariana, in the 
 moated grange, ' He cometh not, she said.' Day follows day, and 
 months run into years. No tender-hearted corporation is moved by 
 our condition: hardly an assault and battery attacks our leisure; 
 rarely does even the voice of the defendant in an action for slander 
 startle the stillness of our lives. And we are often condemned to 
 the experience of Tantalus. One sees a stream of clients pour into 
 the office of a friend near by ; another is kept in a chronic anxiety 
 by the knock of prosperous-looking laymen, who mistake his office 
 for another man's ; while a third finds it part of his daily trial to see 
 the most promising processions in full march for his office diverted 
 from their purpose and turned aside by the wickedly enticing wide- 
 open doors of an envious neighboring savings-fund. Thus, sir, we seem 
 doomed to sit solitary and alone, while our offices, like the unhappy 
 country of the patriotic Irishman, ' literally swarm with absentees.' 
 But we are not altogether without hope. The flower that is born to 
 blush unseen may cherish in its petals the hope of being plucked by 
 rosy fingers; the gem of purest ray may still expect to glitter on the 
 broad shirt front of some prosperous capitalist. I have seen it re- 
 cently asserted, on no less an authority than a daily evening news- 
 paper, that it is in the nature of mankind to hope. Shall we despair? 
 There may be those among us to whom dulness is not dreary nor 
 idleness irksome. There may be in our midst mental dyspeptics, of 
 whom some one has Avittily said ' that they devour many books and 
 can digest none.' We may have among us ingenuous j-ouths like the 
 
46 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 New York law student who thought the feudal system was lands, 
 tenements, and hereditaments, and oriirinated in New York City ; or 
 when asked whether a husband's infidelity was a ground for divorce, 
 did not exactly comprehend the question, and begged to ask, 'Am I 
 to understand by that word "infidelity" that the husband of the 
 woman denied the existence of a Supreme Being?' We may be 
 good and bad, yet there are brains among us that will be working, 
 and tongues that will not rest forever dumb. In the solitude of our 
 offices, — a solitude broken only by the visits of men rightly termed 
 men of assurance, who seek unselfishly to induce us to lay up treas- 
 tires beyond the grave, or by those of beggars, whose theory seems 
 to hold that the office of the youthful lawyer is the chosen abode of 
 that charity Avhich is kind, no matter how much or how long it suf- 
 fereth, — in that rarely invaded solitude we are nursing hope. Do we 
 not right, sir, as we sit there without even the memory of a client with 
 Avhich to people our cane-bottomed chairs, to dream of knots that may 
 need our untying, of shadowy corporations of the future seeking for 
 counsel, of railroads not yet enjoined? May we not expect the day 
 when the tread of the client will resound through the entry, and his 
 voice clamor for admittance at the door, when we, too, jostled by a 
 tu7'ba cUentmm viaxima, shall sally forth into the forum to argue 
 points yet undreamed of, and puzzle jurors yet unborn? 
 
 " But if it be a long time before Ave become entitled to the duties 
 and responsibilities of our profession, to some of its privileges we 
 are admitted at once. From the moment of our adoption into its 
 ranks we are made to feel the influence of that fraternal feeling 
 which is one of the chief glories of the Philadelphia Bar. We feel 
 it everywhere, at all times, — in the forbearance of the elders ; in 
 the respect of equals; in the veneration of the young. It is proof 
 against all attacks, and survives the bitterness of every contention. 
 I see around me men who were yesterday, and perhaps will be to- 
 morrow, arrayed against each other in intellectual combat. The 
 passions of the fight have vanished ; the heaviest blow has made no 
 bruise ; the fier6est thrust has left no scar. And here, where the 
 united bar has assembled to honor one whose learning and character 
 has so long added strength and lustre to his great office, — here 
 among the leaders of the bar, even the youngest feel that there is 
 room for them. And following in their turn, they too may press 
 forward to lay at his feet their tribute of veneration and respect. 
 
SPEECH AT THE THOMPSON DINNER. 47 
 
 " In the words of another honored guest, whose courtesy and 
 thoughtfulness and unfailing kindness have done so much to impress 
 upon the juniors of the bar their sincerity and truth, — in your 
 words, sir, fitly quoted here, ' We are one brotherhood.' Old and 
 young alike. Yoked in the same ministry, cherishing the same tra- 
 ditions, inheriting the same history, taught by the same examples ! 
 Long may Providence preserve those honored lives! Long may you 
 both shed the light of living examples on your younger brethren ! 
 Long may you taste the reward of your labor in the calm enjoyment 
 of completed fame ! Vivite felices quibus est fortitna peracta ! 
 
 " The years are fleeting; and on us, in our turn, must fall the 
 responsibilities and trusts of life. Then when time shall have made 
 us stronger, and suffering more patient, if we have been earnest in 
 endeavor, firm in purpose, honest in emulation, true to our exem- 
 plars and ourselves, the bar that has so often found them in the 
 generations of yesterday and to-day may not search hopelessly 
 among her servants of to-morrow for the skill, the learning, the elo- 
 quence, the strict integrity, the calm devotion to his threefold duty 
 which make the perfect lawyer ; nor our Republic seek in vain 
 among her younger children for that broad and generous statesman- 
 ship which embraces all humanity, is firm, benevolent, consistent, 
 which, lifted above the passions of the hour, acts not for to-day but 
 for all time, — tried though it may be by both extremes of fortune, 
 still stands four-square to all the winds that blow. 
 
 " I am but one in this company, and stand on the threshold of 
 professional life. I am altogether unworthy to speak for my 
 brethren of the younger bar, and yet, to-night, I feel their hearts 
 beating with my heart, and hear their voices ring in mine, bidding 
 me tell you that we seek no higher glory and cherish no loftier am- 
 bition than to tread worthily in the footsteps of our fathers, and at 
 the end of lives of usefulness, and it may be of honor, to hand down- 
 unspotted and unstained the institutions they committed to our cai"e 
 into the keeping of their children's children's sons." 
 
 There liad been some slight astonishment expressed, and 
 perhaps a little touch of prejudice excited, by the announce- 
 ment of Mr. Brown's name as one to fill this, in some re- 
 spects, responsible jjosition ; and this might very naturally 
 be accounted for from the fact that he was so recent a 
 
48 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 member of the bar, and as yet comparatively unknown. 
 But all such feelings were dispelled like mists the instant 
 the clear and calm tones of his exquisitely finished elocu- 
 tion fell upon the ear. The modesty, the manliness, the 
 wit, the good sense, and the elevated closing sentences of 
 the address confirmed the good impression made, and there 
 was but one o])inion, most enthusiastically expressed, as to 
 its merit. Although coming at the end of a long and 
 exhausting evening of speaking, it was listened to with 
 absolute delight. The Legal Gazette of December 27, 
 1872, in noticing the bar dinner, remarked : " The last- 
 named gentleman (Henry Armitt Brown), in response to 
 the toast, " The Juniors of the Bar," made an excellent 
 and a])propriate speech, reflecting credit not only upon 
 himself, but the young members of the bar in general. It 
 Avas decidedly one of the best speeches of the evening." 
 Another paper {The Legal hitelligencer) said : " The eifort 
 was an able one, and during its delivery received the atten- 
 tion of every person in the room." The Public Ledger, of 
 Philadelphia, characterized it as " one of the most marked 
 orations of the evening, calling forth from the seniors as 
 well as the juniors the heartiest applause." The London 
 (England) Law Times, of February 15, 1873, thought the 
 lesson of the speech, as conmiented upon by the Pittsburgh 
 (Ohio) Legal Gazette, "would be a lesson that should be 
 taken to heart by the junior bar of England." One of the 
 young lawyers present wrote a note on the spot to a member 
 of his family, containing these warm words of praise: "I 
 cannot go to bed without writing a line to tell you what a 
 triumph Harry has had. There has been no speech in my 
 time, by a Philadelphia lawyer, that has made the impres- 
 sion his did to-night. His audience, to a large extent, had 
 to be conciliated, and, what was worse, he knew it; but he 
 
POPULAR LECTURES. 49 
 
 conquered every prejudice, and when he finished there was 
 not one dissenting voice. A more perfect and complete 
 success was never achieved by any orator, and it was the 
 best men of the bar who were the loudest in his praise." 
 In fact, it was discovered that he could speak. 
 
 This discovery that Henry Armitt Brown could speak 
 was not a new one to many. In the Municipal Reform 
 Association of Philadelphia, which had been established 
 previously during this same year, he had already taken an 
 active part, which involved much public speaking, and of 
 a kind to test a man's metal, — but before alluding to this 
 a word should be said of his entrance on the field of popu- 
 lar lecturing. It came about in a natural way, and from 
 a M'ish to help on good objects. His first lecture, " Hun- 
 dred-Gated Thebes" (one of a course of four lectures), was 
 originally delivered for the aid of a benevolent enterprise, 
 and was heard by large audiences in Philadelpliia, Burling- 
 ton, and many other places within and without the State. 
 One of the notices of this lecture, in the Daily 3Imer's 
 Journal, Pottsville, December 31, 1872, falls into an 
 amusinp; error about his antecedents : " A fine audience 
 assembled last evening at Union Hall to hear Mr. Brown, 
 son of the late David Paul Brown, Esq.,* who is a rising 
 young lawyer of Philadelphia, and who was requested by 
 Daniel Dougherty, Esq., to come up and fill his engage- 
 ment to lecture, — Mr. Dougherty being too unwell to come. 
 Mr. Brown's subject was 'Thebes,' and for nearly two 
 hours the lecturer held his audience absorbed and inter- 
 ested in it and his delightful delivery. He is a fine 
 speaker, superior even to his father in his palmiest days." 
 
 * It is hardly necessary to state that David Paul Brown was a 
 Philadelphia lawyer of celebrity, especially in criminal cases. He 
 was born in 1795 and died 1872. 
 
50 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Mr. Brown prepared other travel lectures, with the titles 
 of "A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem," "From Dan to Beer- 
 sheba," " On the Acropolis" ; and he delivered them first 
 in the chapel in the rear of St. Andrew's Church, and after- 
 wards at other places. In these performances he showed 
 marked descriptive power and mother wit, but his mind was 
 an earnest one, his imagination kindled at solemn themes, 
 and the thoughtful aspects of his semi-poetic topics were 
 not set aside for sensational effect or mere amusement. He 
 would have risen to the fi;rst rank in the popular esteem 
 had he followed out this career. He had every qualification 
 for it, and would have rivalled the most shining names in 
 this field. As it was, he generally spoke for some philan- 
 thropic object, and he went upon the principle. Touch the 
 feelings and you touch the pocket ; arouse the imagination 
 and you ennoble and enlarge the sympathies. But there 
 was something better than this for him. 
 
 Since the days of old Rome great cities have been centres 
 of power and also of corruption. They form in themselves 
 political units. Immense social forces are concentrated in 
 them. The municipal privileges possessed by corporations, 
 having at their control large revenues and extensive patron- 
 age, are strained to the utmost. The irresponsibility of 
 corporate powers presents a temptation to extortion from 
 the fcixpayer. The taxpayer suffers from the immunity of 
 the tax-maker. It does not much matter what political 
 party is dominant, and unless there is honesty somewhere, 
 and honesty of the most fearless and independent sort, 
 there is apt to be outrageous abuse of political power. 
 Such a state of things leads to the most monstrous frauds 
 and rapacities. The desperate contest in the city of New 
 York, which cannot soon be forgot, differed in some of its 
 
MUNICIPAL REFORM. 51 
 
 phases and in its gigantic proportions from that in Phila- 
 delphia, which city not long before had been declared by 
 good anthority to be " the best governed in the Union, and 
 whose local legislators were distinguished for their integrity 
 and devotion to duty," but in its main aspects the conflict 
 was the same in Philadelphia as in New York, and was 
 none the less needful, determined, and bitter. Those who 
 demanded reform were confined to no class of society or 
 shade of political sentiment. The vast, power of " Muni- 
 cipal Rings" demanded the most extraordinary efforts to 
 bring about their overthrow. 
 
 The call for a change in the methods of political action 
 in the city of Philadelphia culminated at the beginning of 
 the year 1872 in the formation of a Citizens' Municipal 
 Reform Association, with ward organizations and central 
 committees. The principles of the association struck at 
 the root of political abuse, viz.: the matter of the purity 
 of elections. They declared that important offices should 
 be in the hands of trustworthy men of whatever party. 
 To prove the unselfishness of their motives they pledged 
 themselves not to hold office or to be candidates for office. 
 They meant to do thorough work. It was a dispassionate 
 movement made at a time when there was no great political 
 excitement, and in a lull between the national elections. The 
 association embraced principles like these : a non-partisan 
 registry law ; salaries and not fees ; no interference of the 
 Legislature in local affiiirs ; an examination by the people 
 into the city departments to learn where their money goes ; 
 public officers to be the servants not the masters of their 
 constituents ; a determined and continuous opposition to all 
 rings and corrupt politicians of both parties ; and a devo- 
 tion to the best interests of the whole city of Philadelphia 
 and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. 
 
52 MEMOIR OF HE NET A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 From the earliest beginnino; of this Reform movement 
 Mr. Brown identified himself with it. His moulding hand 
 is seen in all its j)rinciples and acts. His energizing spirit 
 constantly urged it on. In fact, he had found something 
 to do worthy of him. This was a real evil to attack. It 
 was a work that called for strong- men. He was fairlv 
 woke up. We date his public life and his public greatness 
 from this moment. He was obliged to enter the fight with 
 able, but in some. instances uncongenial, allies. He did 
 not shrink from any fastidious feeling of this sort. He 
 was willing to endanger his own political reputation and 
 chances. He struck hands with all who were resolved on 
 purifying city politics, cost Avhat it might. He threw his 
 whole force into this agitation. He was the life of it 
 while his connection with it lasted, which was essentially 
 to the end of his life. He was active in organizing the 
 different ward associations. He was a frequent and fear- 
 less speaker in all parts of the city. He and his associates 
 had to contend with formidable foes, and with those ele- 
 ments of unprincipled force to be found only in great 
 cities, and nowhere more reckless and ruffian than in 
 Philadelphia. He sometimes spoke when missiles flew, 
 but he calmed the excited crowds with a word. Plis self- 
 possession was perfect. The tones of his voice exerted a 
 wonderfully soothing influence, and he was never seriously 
 interrupted. In one great mass-meeting in West Phila- 
 delphia he was the first speaker. He charged that out- 
 rageous abuses existed in the city government ; he declared 
 that the time had come for radical reform; he affirmed 
 that the men then in office had sought their places ham- 
 pered and tied by promises with which their nominations 
 were bought, and that they wrongfully administered the 
 offices to which they were chosen. He boldly dissected 
 
POLITICAL LEADERSHIP. 53 
 
 the characters of office-holders. He exhibited a power of 
 rapid character-analysis. It was the clean and fatal rapier 
 thrust. He said the severest things without coarseness or 
 harshness. He said what every one felt to be true. When- 
 ever a political demagogue fell writliing under his thrust, 
 as boys say, " he did not know what hurt him" ; but it was 
 sim])ly truth spoken in the keenest manner. He did not 
 appeal to men's passions, but to the best that was in them. 
 His style was eminently '" sweetness and light," the per- 
 suasiveness of a consciously honest soul. While he could 
 be scathingly sarcastic, his real sweetness rarely permitted 
 liim to be so. He preferred the weapons of truth and 
 calmness. " The gentle mind by gentle deeds is known." 
 Some of his colleagues were noble idealists; others were 
 ennobled by the idea of reform; but there was no one 
 who M'as more thoroughly, unselfishly, and practically a 
 reformer than himself. By the testimony of his friends in 
 this struggle no one felt what he was doing more deeply 
 than himself. He acted on his convictions of duty. He 
 thus rose up at once to be a leader. Everybody recognized 
 him as such. One of his colleagues said, "He was worth 
 a whole army corps to the cause." He gave no pledges ; 
 he resorted to no partisan tricks. If he aspired to political 
 leadership he scorned political office. His speeches grew 
 more and more weighty. At first with reluctance, but 
 then with delight and an ever-increasing sense of power, 
 he took up, at the request of one of his friends who saw 
 what there was in him, the practice of extemporaneous 
 speaking. He came to like it immensely, to grow easy 
 under its difficulties, and to rejoice in its freedom. His 
 voice, action, and thought adapted themselves readily to 
 this change of style, and many a crowded and turbulent 
 assembly acknowledged the sway of his off- hand address 
 
54 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 and cool, finished elocution. By this means he acquired 
 sometliing of the gladiatorial power of Wendell Phillips 
 and other reform speakers, of meeting the changing exi- 
 gencies of assemblies, and of prompt repartee. He said 
 of a political and notably self-opinionated opponent, who 
 on one occasion was accused by a speaker of his own party 
 of being an "infidel": "An infidel, — not so; he is a self- 
 made man, and he worships his creator." 
 
 He has been blamed for acting at times against Repub- 
 lican nominees and the Republican party, while he was 
 himself an avowed Republican. His aim was higher than 
 party. He might have answered in the words ]nit in the 
 mouth of Savonarola by the author of Romola : " The 
 cause of freedom, which is the cause of God's kingdom 
 upon earth, is often most injured by those who carry within 
 them the power of certain human virtues. The wickedest 
 man is often not the most insurmountable obstacle to the 
 triumph of good." 
 
 But there was a new field beginning to present itself to 
 his claims and oratorical powers, which served for a time to 
 draw off his attention, though not his heart, from the cause 
 of municipal reform, — it was the opening Centennial epoch 
 of memorializing the great events of the country's history. 
 From his intense love of the past and of the memory of his 
 ancestors, he had always been drawn to historical studies ; 
 and he had the qualities of an historian, patience in original 
 research, love of exact statement, the imagination which 
 comprehends and clothes the past in life, and a picturesque 
 style ; and if he had become tired of political life, it is the 
 opinion of friends who knew him best that he would have 
 devoted himself, as he often talked of doing, to historical 
 investigations. The splendid career of Motley attracted 
 
CENTENNIAL MASS-MEETINQ. 55 
 
 him, as it has other young men ; and, to our own knowledge, 
 for some time after leaving college, he was casting about for 
 a fit theme of an historical nature to which to devote his 
 attention. 
 
 There were two occasions of a more or less historic char- 
 acter that led his mind naturally to take a vivid interest in 
 the Centennial campaign that followed. The first of these 
 was an anniversary meeting of the Lincoln Institution, 
 established for the children of those who had fallen in the 
 civil war, which was held January 17, 1873. Mr. Brown 
 was called upon to speak in memory of Major-General 
 George G. Meade, the recent president of the institution, 
 who had died a short time previous. The closing sentences 
 of this address were as follows : 
 
 " I think not of Meade as the gallant officer stemming the tide of 
 disaster at Seven Pines or Gaines's Mill, nor as the skilful general 
 driving his routed foe from Gettysburg, but rather as that quiet, self- 
 contained man, who, in the stillness of his tent, received the order 
 that made him commander of a demoralized army wearied with 
 forced marches, to overtake, on its own soil, its triumphant enemies, 
 and took up the burden without a murmur. I think of him in the 
 last years of his well-spent life, not as the laurel-crowned hero of a 
 tremendous victory, but as the patriotic citizen moving in our midst 
 without ostentation or display, respected, honored, and beloved. And 
 to-day, speaking of him in this place, I love to picture him as one in 
 whose heart charity had found a refuge, who ' comforted the widow 
 and the fatherless, and kept himself unspotted from the world.'" 
 
 The second occasion to wdiich we allude was the great 
 mass-meeting held on the 19th of April, 1873, at the 
 Academy of Music, under the auspices of the Women's 
 Centennial Committee. This was the opening gun of the 
 Centennial Exposition campaign in Philadelphia, which 
 afterwards filled the world with its rumor. The vast 
 assemblage on this occasion was called to order by Mr. 
 
56 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Jolin Welsh. The venerable Eli K. Price, a represen- 
 tative of one of the oldest Quaker families of Philadel- 
 phia, presided. Mr. Brown was the first speaker. His 
 remarks were brief but pertinent, and applause greeted 
 the conclusion of his speech. The Philadelphia Press, \n 
 a notice of the prominent addresses of the evening, says : 
 " The speeches of Henry Armitt Browai and Daniel Dough- 
 erty were finished orations. Mr. Brown is young in our 
 legal public circles, but will live to an old future, judged 
 by his present promise. Mr. Dougherty is always young 
 in heart ; and it was pleasant to see that the ripening mind, 
 while it gives him wisdom, does not moderate his love of 
 country. These two really fine orators made some striking 
 points, and in style and ideas they made a capital aggregate. 
 What they said will be remembered, as it ought to be. 
 Brown starts out as a more quiet rhetorician, a sort of 
 young-old man, and Dougherty, after two decades of im- 
 pulsive public speaking, adorns middle life as the teacher of 
 a highly chastened style. In the audience sat two great- 
 granddaughters of Benjamin Franklin, — Mrs. Gillespie, 
 chairman of the Ladies' Centennial Committee of Thirteen, 
 and Mrs. Emory, wife of General W. H. Emory, now in 
 command of the Department of New Orleans. A fact like 
 this shows how near we are to the Past ; how close we stand 
 to the leaders, inventors, and heroes who, by their wisdom, 
 genius, and patriotism, gave and preserved us a nation." 
 
 There were other notices not so flattering. It \vas said 
 that Brown's speech was too "fine" for a mass-meeting; 
 that he was young and had a great deal to learn. This 
 criticism caused amusement among his friends, since the 
 meeting was simply a gathering in the Academy of Music 
 of the prominent people of the city, and, in fact, the 
 asseinbly was entirely lacking in the element which goes 
 
DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 57 
 
 to make up mass-meetings generally. The Catholic Herald, 
 while praising the address as " evincing culture," blamed 
 his allusion to " liberated Italy," and said that the idea 
 was a " stencil in the nostrils of every Catholic." It may 
 be that there was a grain of truth in the criticisms of his 
 style. Mr. Brown's tendency was to elaboration and great 
 carefulness in what he said on a set occasion, having con- 
 scientious fear lest he might not do full justice to his 
 theme. He so prepared himself as to insure success, and 
 perhaps sometimes over-prepared. But criticism was pa- 
 tiently received, and did him good. He never attempted 
 to defend himself against criticism, but silentlv weighed 
 its worth, and suffered it to have its corrective influence. 
 He learned from his foes. 
 
 In the incessantly busy life which he now led, he had, to 
 cheer him, a bright home-life. He was married December 
 7, 1871, to Miss Josephine Lea, daughter of John R. 
 Baker, Esq., of Philadelphia, — a union of rare happiness 
 and congeniality of mind. His house became a centre of 
 hospitality seasoned with wit. His own companionable 
 qualities, his literary culture and reading, his incomparable 
 skill as a raconteur, not seeking to display himself but to 
 give pleasure to others, made him sought for in the most 
 influential circles ; and where he was, though ever modest, 
 he was sure to be the centre of conversation as naturally as 
 a hearth-fire in winter draws around it all in the room. It 
 was a heart-glow at which all warmed themselves. Like 
 Tom Hood he could electrify a circle by his stories, his 
 improvisations and humorous representations of character, 
 transforming himself into Daniel Webster, Edwin Forrest, 
 an Eastern Shore countryman at pleasure, or leading on to 
 questions of political and public moment ; and as he grew 
 older the last predominated, and here was seen to be the 
 
 5 
 
58 MEMOIR OF UENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 treasury of subjects in which he had garnered up his 
 inmost thoughts. He grew to be a nobler patriot with the 
 growth of his reflective powers. 
 
 But tlie place where his soul dwelt, and shone, and 
 glowed like a luminous lamp fed by odorous oil at mid- 
 night, where he gathered together all his wandering fan- 
 cies without fear of criticism, was his own room in the 
 upper part of his house. It is now just as he left it, with 
 the same papers lying on the table where he last sat. It 
 is a low-studded apartment immediately under the roof, 
 and poorly lighted from without at mid-day. Heavy 
 beams painted red, as in old English houses, run across the 
 ceiling. Thick tapestry curtains hang before the windows, 
 so that it is easy to exclude the daylight or to turn day 
 into night. It was probably of these curtain-hangings 
 that he wrote to his mother, then in Europe, " Be sure and 
 send me some curtains that are mediaeval, feudal, griffony, 
 and dragony, — ^you know what I mean." In the wide- 
 jambed fireplace the gaping chimney lets in a beam of 
 outside sunshine upon a great bed of white ashes, wan 
 relics of many a magnificent wood-fire whose flames danced 
 upon the hearth and the uncouth fire-dogs. On the man- 
 tel-piece stand curiously-twisted brass candlesticks from 
 Norway, bronze gods from Egypt, small marble obelisks, 
 tall mugs of Bohemian glass with colored heraldic devices. 
 Over these in the centre are suspended a Russian Byzantine 
 painting of a long-bearded Greek saint, and on either side 
 large photographs of the heads of Goethe and Bufus 
 Choate ; the last a gift from Mr. Choate's family through 
 James T. Fields, Esq., — a powerfully life-like portrait. A 
 portrait of Shakspeare and a mask of Garrick (taken from 
 the mask in the possession of the Garrick Club of London) 
 occujjy the right hand of the fireplace, and between them, 
 
HIS ''DEN." 59 
 
 wreathed with ivy, is hung an immense wooden s])oon, 
 trophy of college days. A big brass Norwegian kettle on 
 a tripod of antique form stands near, and by its side next 
 the wall is a long-cased clock. A sideboard, black with age 
 and highly carved, is filled with spoils of European travel. 
 Three or four other carved Norwegian cabinets and chests 
 stand in the room. A bronze cast of Napoleon's face after 
 death, statuettes of Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, and 
 many other small works of art occupy the shelf of the 
 bookcase, which runs breast-high around the apartment. 
 On the red-papered walls are large groups of palm leaves 
 and brass sconces ; in the corners are shields of family 
 arms. The door is mounted with massive brass hinges 
 and locks. Louis Quatorze high-backed and stamped 
 leather-covered chairs stand around the room, which is 
 carpeted with rugs and skins of different animals. Upon 
 the Avriting-table stands a small but spirited bronze of 
 William Pitt, taken from the statue erected in Hanover 
 Square, London, and by its side lie a miniature edition of 
 Shakspeare and a Bible. The last oj)ens more readily 
 than anywhere else to the Old Testament prophets, whose 
 lofty imagery and burning sentences against national crimes 
 formed his favorite reading. The library itself, for a young 
 man's, is large and well selected, showing a manly taste. 
 The books are chiefly historical and political. There are 
 the standard works on Greek, Roman, Italian, French, 
 English, and American history, the speeches of English 
 statesmen and orators, various editions of Shakspeare, a 
 good though small selection of Latin and Greek classics, 
 the English poets, some of the French essayists, and some 
 works on government, political economy, and industrial 
 and social questions, together with his law library. In his 
 last years his reading tended to a solid kind, and if he 
 
60 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 could not say precisely in the words of Frederick W. 
 Robertson, " I read hard or not at all, never skimming, 
 never turning aside to many inviting books; and Plato, 
 Aristotle, Butler, Thucydides, Jonathan Edwards, have 
 passed like the iron atoms of the blood into my mental 
 constitution," yet he could speak of his real working years 
 in much the same way. We do not claim for Mr. Brown 
 that he was a " terrible worker" during all his intellectual 
 life, but he was growing ever more and more severe in 
 his tasks, jealous of his time, careful in the selection of 
 his studies, self-denying and self-disciplining in his reading. 
 He fed his mind upon substantial food, and perhaps he 
 felt the necessity of making up deficiencies that would 
 strengthen and consolidate all, and would make a firm 
 foundation on which to build a statesmanlike superstruc- 
 ture. He was beginning to learn the lesson 
 
 ''Of labor, that in lasting fruit outgrows 
 Far noisier schemes, accomplish'd in repose, 
 Too great for haste, too high for rivalry." * 
 
 The question might be asked. How can a lawyer become 
 a statesman ? In Germany this is answered by the estab- 
 lishment of schools specially devoted to the sciences of 
 government, of State-law, but in our own land a young man 
 is compelled to make his way alone to something broader 
 in political knowledge and life. By the prompting of his 
 own genius, if at all, he is led to study the science of gov- 
 ernment, the government of towns and cities, and the prac- 
 tical working of these. He is led to study commerce in 
 its multiform relations ; manufactures and the various in- 
 dustries and arts that have a bearing upon the welfare of 
 
 * Matthew Arnold. 
 
 I 
 
THE CENTENNIAL EPOCH. (31 
 
 tliG people; political economy and financial questions in 
 their practical as well as theoretical aspects ; history, an- 
 cient and modern ; religious systems and their influence 
 upon popular character, — in fine, everything that has a 
 direct relation to national interest. In this way, by inde- 
 pendent effort, and by study directed to a high aim, he may 
 expand himself from the professional type of man — the 
 lawyer who is a man of precedents, and whose aims are 
 personal — into the comprehensiveness of the public man 
 and statesman. In fact, no book or school can teach this. 
 Genius for such studies, original observation, and a tireless 
 energy that leaves nothing unknown, nothing unexplained, 
 — the energy of Charles Sumner, or of greater men, like 
 Bismarck and Abraham Lincoln, the last of whom educated 
 himself into a statesman from being a very narrowly-trained 
 lawyer, — these are the pursuits and qualifications which, in 
 the place of a moi-e systematic European cultivation in states- 
 manship, go to educate the man who is to make laws and 
 guide the State. Into this field of seif-traiuing for some- 
 thing larger and broader Mr. BroM^i was continually press- 
 ing with an intense earnestness, — but these matters and ques- 
 tions we must defer to a somewhat later period of his life. 
 
 The Centennial epoch had commenced. Philadelphia, 
 as being the central point of the proj^osed national com- 
 memoration, was in the beginning of its excitement and 
 stirring preparation. All Pennsylvania was to be aroused 
 to share in this patriotic feeling and in the work of procur- 
 ing funds for this colossal enterprise. Popular orators 
 were sent out to all the chief country towns. It was a time 
 o1 jlux de bouche, but of all who spoke, none, we are of 
 the opinion, had a truer idea of the importance of the 
 opportunity to promote pure patriotic sentiments than 
 
Q2 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Henry Arniitt Brown, as certainly no one more distin- 
 guished himself as a speaker than he during this fervid 
 epoch. Speech was to be the Teucrian bow with which 
 he defended the ships of his country's hopes and treasures 
 from irreverent hands. He made one of his first addresses 
 September 18, 1873, at the large town of Reading, Pennsyl- 
 vania. It was an immense citizens' meeting to which over 
 two hundred vice-presidents were chosen. The Philadelphia 
 Press said of it : " At the Grand Opera House, H. Armitt 
 Brown, of Philadeljihia, delivered one of the best addresses 
 on the Centennial enterprise heard this year." 
 
 The succeeding week he spoke to a great gathering of the 
 people at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in the Moravian Day 
 School Hall. He commenced his speech in these words : 
 
 " For the first time in my life it is my privilege to visit Bethlehem, 
 and if I were here for any other object than that which has brought 
 us together to-night, it might seem to me necessary to introduce my- 
 self to you with some words of apology or excuse. But when, as a 
 Pennsylvanian, I come before Pennsylvanians ; when, as an Ameri- 
 can, I am speaking to Americans, endeavoring as far as in me lies 
 to arouse my countrymen to the discharge of a great patriotic duty, 
 I feel that apology is unnecessary ; I forget for the moment that I am 
 a stranger ; I seem to be at home looking into the faces of friends." 
 
 During the months of October and November, 1873, 
 Mr. Brown delivered at various towns in Pennsylvania and 
 Ohio an oration entitled " The Centennial, the Story of an 
 Hundred Years." This address seemed to strike audiences 
 differently. In one place it was pronounced tedious, and it 
 was said of the speaker that while " his manner of delivery 
 is attractive, his diction clear and faultless, and his whole 
 ap})earance that of a true orator, yet he failed to compre- 
 hend his subject, and S])oke more of the Centennial to be 
 than of the Centennial that had been." In another place 
 
THE STORY OF AN HUNDRED YEARS. 63 
 
 the prophetic feature in the speech was considered the most 
 attractive one. The special character of this address may 
 be gathered from a brief notice in an Ohio paper : " The 
 speaker on the ' Story of an Hundred Years' dwelt particu- 
 larly upon the past of our country's history, contrasting 
 the beginning of this century with the ending ; comparing 
 our present standing as a nation, our wealth, prosperity, 
 strength, and greatness as a peo])le, with the weakness, 
 poverty, and insignificance in the eyes of the nations of the 
 earth, of the United States in 1776. For JNIr. Brown, like 
 all ffood Americans, counts the ending; of the century not 
 with an 18 and two unmeaning ciphers, but with the magic 
 figures 76, and we believe inspired every hearer with a 
 desire to live and see the true centennial of this govern- 
 ment, and witness the consummation so long foreshadowed 
 by the preparations of President and people for the grand 
 ceremonial at Philadelphia in that year.* He had a worthy 
 subject and fully did it justice. His manner is pleasing, 
 his voice thrilling and in the heroic parts moves every 
 heart ; while, whether he be interested or not, he impresses 
 all with the conviction that he is, and that every word is 
 the inspiration of the moment. No monotonous repetition 
 of an 'oft-repeated story' is suggested either by word or 
 manner. His enemy, had he listened, would have been stung 
 with envy, while his friend would have been made glad." 
 
 It is with oratory as with music, sometimes it raises 
 and sometimes depresses our hearts. If men tell us what 
 we are ready to receive they are eloquent. "Nothing," 
 says a French author, " is so uncertain as eloquence." 
 
 New England w^as catching the Centennial enthusiasm. 
 * Tliis was written in 1873. 
 
64 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 There was the huiidredtli anniversary of the throwing 
 overboard of the tea in Boston harbor to be celebrated on 
 December 16, 1873. To tliis "Boston tea-party," given 
 by the Boston ladies, — some of them lineal descendants of 
 the " Mohawks" who did the deed, — Philadelphia was in- 
 vited to send gncsts, and one of the two whom she chose 
 was Mr. Brown. The celebration was held in Faneuil 
 Hall, or, as Daniel Webster and the old-fashioned people 
 used to call it, — and it would have been peculiarly appro- 
 priate for this occasion, — " Funnel Hall." The crowded 
 assembly was addressed by Hon. Josiah Qnincy, Hon. 
 Robert C. Winthroj), Henry A. Brown and Frederick 
 Fraley, of Philadelphia, Rev. Edward E. Hale, Hon. 
 Thomas Russell, and Samuel M. Quincy, with a poem by 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. Amid these veteran speakers 
 Mr. Brown seemed slender and untried, but he did nobly. 
 He was Greek Glaucus among the old heavy-armed 
 gladiators. He was introduced by the president, Mr. 
 Quincy, in these words : " Boston does not stand alone in 
 the controversy which the Tea-jjarty aroused, and of all 
 places most immediately connected with us was the largest 
 city of our Union, as it then existed, — Philadelphia. The 
 moment the act was done Boston sent Paul Revere to tell 
 that the tea was in the water. We sent a messenger one 
 hundred years ago ; and though the Philadelphians are 
 slow in some respects, they have now sent their representa- 
 tive after the lapse of a century." 
 Mr. Brown spoke as follows : 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — A few days ago a stranger stood in 
 the new museum in the State House at Philadelphia. Around him 
 were the relics of colonial times and the portraits of our ancient 
 kings, from Charles II. down to George III. Approaching him, a 
 gentleman said, with courteous inquiry, 'You are a foreigner, sir?" 
 
THE BOSTON '^TEA-PARTV" SPEECH. 65 
 
 ' Bless you,' was the reply, * I am no foreigner ; I am an English- 
 man.' [Laughter.] And in his spirit so I feel to-night, sir, though I 
 stand for the first time in Faneuil Ilall. I see about me no familiar 
 countenance; I am in an unaccustomed place; 1 have journeyed far 
 from home ; and yet this is Boston, and this Faneuil Hall. Here 
 hang the likenesses of men whose portraits since my childhood I 
 have seen in Independence Hall, — John Hancock and John Adams, 
 Samuel Adams and Elbridge Gerry (lldbert Treat Paine is not there 
 yet, though the place is waiting), and I feel that here at least I am 
 no stranger. [Applause.] I rise in this presence and on this anni- 
 versary to speak to you the words of Philadelphia, — the fraternal 
 greetings of your brethren assembled there. Would that the messen- 
 ger were more worthy ; would that there might come to me to-night a 
 voice of fire — an inspiration born of the memories of this place — that 
 I might drink in the spirit of this anniversary, and tell in fitting 
 words the message which I bring ! It is in keeping with your an- 
 cient kindly feeling for Philadelphians that you ask to hear from 
 her to-night. Boston has heard her voice before ; not only in 
 ' piping times of peace,' of prosperity, of sunshine, but in days of 
 doubt, and danger, and distress, of suffering, of trial, and of want. 
 In season and out of season, in joy and sorrow, in peace and war, 
 you have more than once turned to her for sympathy, and you have 
 not found her wanting. When your fathers asked her help and 
 counsel in the dark hours that preceded the great struggle, she 
 sent them back no uncertain action. You protested against the 
 stamp acts, and so did she ; you destroyed the hateful tea, and when 
 the news reached Philadelphia her inhabitants assembled to applaud 
 your act, and, if need be, to follow your example. The sounds from 
 Lexington roused her as well as you, and the story of your trium- 
 phant defeat on yonder heights awoke in Philadelphia an echo that 
 shook her iron hills. She opened wide her arms to greet the great 
 men whom you sent to her first Congress ; and, when the British 
 held Boston in their grasp, she heard the clanking of your chains, 
 and that Congress, assembled in her State House, sent you Wash- 
 ington. [Applause.] As she was then she is to-day. Still, on her 
 busiest street, stands the old State House, — preserved with pious 
 care, — holding up, as this thrice-sacred building does, the old time 
 and the new time face to face ; and from its walls your great men, 
 as well as hers, look down upon another spot made holy by their 
 
66 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 patriotism and virtue. There, in the centre of her l)usy life, lies 
 Independence Square, its corners resting on her crowded highways, 
 ' a sacred island in a tumultuous main ;' close by she guards the 
 relics of the dead — ^your own as well as hers — whom fate confided to 
 the keeping of the land for which they died ; and in her bosom 
 there, to-day, she bears the dust of Franklin. All around her are 
 reminders of the time when Philadelpliia and Boston stood in the 
 very front; when Pennsylvania and Massachusetts held up the 
 hands of Washington. Before her roll the waters that wash the 
 feet of Trenton and Red Bank ; beside her lies the smiling valley of 
 Whitemarsh ; still, in her suburljs, stands the old stone house round 
 which the battle raged at Germantown. She sees the sun set behind 
 those peaceful hills — unconscious of their fame — between which 
 slumbers Valley Forge, and by her southern borders flows a placid 
 stream that bears the immortal name of Brandy wine ! Here stood 
 the sons of Boston and her children side by side. There your blood 
 and hers commingled stained the cruel snow ; together you shared 
 the sufferings and the sorrows ; together the danger and the toil : 
 and the victory, with its blessings, was for both ! Iler tongue may 
 cleave to the roof of her mouth and her right hand forget its cun- 
 ning, but she will remember this! And it is peculiarly appropriate 
 that she should speak to you to-night. When the news reached 
 Philadelphia that year — 1773 — that the tea-ships were on their way, 
 her citizens met in the State House on the 17th day of October, and 
 unanimously resolved 'that the attempt to levy taxes without the 
 assent of the people was an infringement of the inherent right of 
 freemen, and an attack upon the liberties of America' ; ' that resist- 
 ance was the duty of every true American' ; 'that whoever should 
 directly or indirectly aid or abet in landing, receiving, or selling 
 the tea was an enemy of his country,' and 'that the consignees 
 should be forced to resign.' On the 2d of November following the 
 Bostonians met here and adjourned to the 5th, when, having ap- 
 pointed John Hancock moderator, they unanimously adopted as 
 their own 'the resolutions of our brethren of Philadelphia.' Six 
 weeks later they met again. The fote of their country hung upon 
 their acts. The excitement reached Philadelphia. Her tea-ships 
 had not yet arrived, and she awaited, breathlessly, the news from 
 Boston. The days came and went ; a week glided by and still there 
 wei'e no tidings ; when suddenly, at two o'clock in the afternoon of 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
THE BOSTON ^^ TEA-PA BTY" SPEECH. Q'J 
 
 Docombor 24, a courier came riding in, post liaste, bringing great 
 news. By five o'clock that day the town was all alive. Men gath- 
 ered in the streets to tell, with glowing cheeks, how their brethren 
 of Boston, coming in from twenty miles around, had packed old 
 Faneuil Hall as it was never filled before, until it became necessary, 
 owing to the crowd, to adjourn to the old South Church, — to that 
 building which, but the other day, saved from destruction as if by 
 miracle, has earned another title to your gratitude and veneration, 
 — and there, as the winter's afternoon Avore on, counselled together 
 what to do: until at last, finding no other course left open, and 
 roused by the eloquence of their leaders, — above all, sir, by the 
 burning words of him whdse honored name you bear, — they poured 
 into the streets, and through the early dusk to Griffin's wharf to 
 make the night immortal ! Two days after Christmas the tea-ships 
 anchored near Philadelphia. At an hour's notice five thousand men 
 gathered in town-meeting. The consignees were forced to resign, 
 and the captains, alarmed at the steadfastness of the people, turned 
 their prows seaward and sailed away forever. Thus did Boston 
 follow the example of Philadelphia, and again Philadelphia that of 
 Boston, both animated by a noble devotion to tlie common cause. A 
 century has passed away, and I confess, Mr. Chairman, that that 
 seems to me a beautiful sentiment, and one which savors of the 
 spirit of that olden time, wliich has led the Philadelphians to choose 
 to celebrate this night, and gather, as they soon will do, in a gigan- 
 tic tea-party in memory of the glorious deed of Boston. It is in the 
 power of Boston, sir, to reciprocate this feeling and return this com- 
 pliment; and of this — in the few moments which remain to me — I 
 wish to speak. As it was your fortune to rock the cradle of liberty, 
 it was Philadelphia's to guard that of Independence. Here, in your 
 Faneuil Ilall, the corner-stone was laid -, there, in her State House, 
 the edifice was crowned. This anniversary belongs to you ; another 
 anniversary belongs to her. And now that we are face to face with 
 the one hundredth birthday of the nation, Philadelphia has been 
 chosen as the spot of its celebration. She is, so to speak, the trustee 
 for the whole country, and the guardian there, as you are here, of 
 our common treasures. The President, by direction of Congress, 
 has named the time and place. He has appointed commissioners for 
 every State and Territory ; he has authorized them to raise money 
 for the purpose of holding a great exhibition : he has invited all the 
 
68 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 nations of the earth. In Philadelphia, on the 4th of last July, in 
 the presence of the chief men of the nation and of many States, of 
 representatives from every corner of the Union, and of tens of thou- 
 sands of the people, were solemnly dedicated to the Centennial four 
 hundred and fifty acres of land. There, in less than three years, 
 will an international exhibitiim rise, more remarkable than any 
 which the world has seen. Not London in 1851, or Paris in '67, 
 when the doomed empire put forth its might to show to the world 
 the wealth and power of France, nor that exhibition which has 
 drawn the eyes of all men to Vienna during the present year, will 
 compare with it. They represented nothing but internal progress; 
 the Centennial will commemorate a great principle and an era in the 
 social, political, and moral development of man ! There will the past 
 and present meet and converse; there will be spread before you the 
 products of agriculture and the mine, — of industry and skill, — the 
 discoveries of science, the masterpieces of art, the riches of all 
 nations, the treasures of the earth and sea ! There will the rice and 
 cotton of the South, the grain of the AVest, Pennsylvania's iron, and 
 the manufactures of Massachusetts bo displayed before the world, 
 where, beneath a gigantic roof more than forty acres in extent, the 
 men of every race and clime jostle in the crowded avenue ! I re- 
 member that Alciphron, the sophist, declined the invitation of his 
 friend King Ptolemy to make his home in Egypt in these words : 
 ' For where in Egypt shall I behold the things which I see daily 
 around me here ? Where else shall I behold the mysteries of our 
 holy religion, the straits where the ever-mcmora])le battle was 
 fought that delivered Greece, — the neighboring Salamis, — in a word, 
 the whole of Greece concentrated at Athens?' IIow much more will 
 the American of 1876, standing in the birthplace of the nation, and 
 beholding the monuments of her power and her greatness, seem to 
 see the whole history and progress of his country concentrated at 
 Philadelphia! But besides the exhibition, which will illustrate the 
 progress of the century and be but temporary, there is to be erected 
 a memorial hall, — a monument of the first centennial. Beautiful 
 in design and of enduring materials, it will stand there forever, a 
 national museum, the pride of Americans, the wonder of strangers, 
 the admiration of posterity, until, perhaps, at a second centennial, 
 its beauties will pale before the glories of that distant time. But 
 not in these alone will the American centennial be complete. There 
 
THE BOSTON '' TEA-PARTY" SPEECH. Qg 
 
 will 1)0 a solemn commemoration of the great anniversary. Of this 
 I dare not trust myself to speak. What tongue shall tell the story 
 of that clay? Who shall paint the picture that will then be spread 
 before the nations ? Thirteen little colonies grown to thirty-seven 
 sovereign States, — a weak confederacy, held together by pressure 
 from without, become a mighty republic, taming the new world in a 
 century ! Man's capacity for self-government no longer an experi- 
 ment, — three million men increased to neai-ly forty million, gather- 
 ing at their country's birthplace on its one hundredth anniversary ! 
 What voice shall worthily describe the scene when the dawn of that 
 day shall at last have broken, and the heavily-laden hours pass on 
 towai'ds high noon, and the American people, reunited, return 
 thanks to God and to its fathers? Will it not be a grander consum- 
 mation than they ever dreamed of who used to stand here where I 
 stand to-night and teach their countrymen the path that led to it? 
 Will it not far exceed the picture which their fancy painted when 
 they sought to stir the hearts around them with visions of the time 
 to come? Will it not seem to fulfil the prophecy of your own John 
 Adams, when, on the evening of that eventful day, while his great 
 mind — as Bancroft says — ' heaved like the ocean after a storm,' he 
 sat down and wrote to his devoted wife : ' This will be the most 
 memorable epoch in the history of America, — to be celebrated by all 
 succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival ; commemo- 
 rated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to 
 Almighty God, from one end of the continent to the other, from this 
 time forward for evermore' ? Do you ask me what results we may 
 expect from this ? I need not tell you of the advantage that will 
 come to all alike ; to evei'y man and woman and child, — in opening 
 new avenues for enterprise and industry and skill. I need not 
 speflk of the knowledge we shall gain when we shall have compared 
 ourselves with each other and with other nations, nor of the increased 
 wealth which that knowledge shall bring. I need not talk of the 
 reputation we shall achieve when the world shall have seen us as 
 we are, nor of the power and influence that will flow from all this. 
 I love rather at a time like this to speak of nobler things. I look to 
 this centennial for grand results. I look to it to bind up the days 
 of old with those to come, and teach Americans that, henceforth and 
 forever, they are not only a nation of promise, but also a nation of 
 fulfilment, not only a people of the future, but also a people of the 
 
70 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 past. It will join the corners of the land in friendship ; it will re- 
 unite this people as nothing else can, and blot out the memory of 
 calamitous times ; it will arouse us from the apathy which weighs 
 upon us, and remind us that we owe a duty to our country as well 
 as to ourselves ; it will arm us against the temptations that are 
 luring us to destruction, the love of ease, the appetite for power, the 
 lust for gold ; it will awaken in us a truer spirit, and purify our 
 pride ; it will teach us how much that is good, how much that is 
 grand and noble other nations have accomplished for humanity ; it 
 will make us a better people. It will soften the national heart; it 
 will broaden the national view; it will deepen the national thought; 
 it will strengthen the national life ! And these results alone will 
 be worth all the labor or the money that can be expended. I 
 could name as many more, but I have already spoken quite too 
 long, and I must close. Such, in a word, my countrymen, is the 
 task which Philadelphia has undertaken. She has begun the work, 
 and there is no turning back. But she cannot do it solitary and 
 alone. It is the duty of all the States of the whole country. It con- 
 cerns them all alike. It is a great national undertaking. Now, at 
 the very mitset, she asks your sympathy and aid. Of all her sister 
 cities, she turns the first to you. You can help the Centennial in a 
 thousand ways, — in your families, among your friends, and in the 
 communities in which you live, as a people, as a city, as a State. 
 You can talk of it, give to it, work for it, pray for it. Philadelphia 
 asks it not for her sake, but for your own and for our country's. 
 She asks it in the name of all that you have endured together in the 
 days gone by, in the name of that progress which the Centennial 
 will illustrate, of those labors which it will complete, of those virtues 
 which it will commemorate, of those sacrifices which it will sanctify; 
 in the name of that freedom whose anniversary it will consecrate, — 
 which came to us from God. 
 
 " I know, my countrymen, that she does not appeal to you in 
 vain. I might dou])t in other places, but not here. I do not forget 
 to whom, nor where I speak. I look into the eyes of men who have 
 the blood of the leaders of our early times, and the spot on which I 
 stand is holy ground. I have an abiding faith in this people and in 
 this place. The air is full of waking memories. Whatever in this 
 dying century there has been of good, of noble endeavor, of self- 
 sacrifice, of honor, of truth ; whatever, in a word, has contributed 
 
THE "MERCHANTS' FUND" SPEECH. 71 
 
 to the greatness and happiness of man seems, at this moment, to rise 
 up out of its grave instinct with life. In the august presence of this 
 anniversary the spell that holds them dumb is broken, and, from 
 eJich crevice in this ancient hall, come forth ten thousand tongues 
 to plead with mine I They speak to you, to whom it has been 
 given to share the blessings of the century that is about to close. 
 They speak to you, to whom it may be vouchsafed to see the glories 
 of the century that is about to open. They tell us of a past, honor- 
 able, sanctified, complete ; and on this threshold of the future they 
 teach us, with the voice of inspiration, that lie whom our fathers 
 worshipped will hear the supplications of their children, and — truer 
 than the imagined gods of pagan story — maintain, through all the 
 generations yet to come, the virtue, happiness, and power of the 
 republic." [Applause.] 
 
 This speech, even among addresses of more distinguished 
 men, was characterized as " brilliant." In the language of 
 a correspondent who had good opportunity to study the 
 audience, " it made a delightful impression." 
 
 We must now turn aside for a while from the current of 
 the great Centennial to notice some other events and ora- 
 torical labors. The first of these, occurring at the beginning 
 of the year 1874, is of a very pleasing character. Having 
 made the discovery of Mr. Brown's gifts, his fellow-citizens 
 seemed determined to call them into constant requisition ; 
 and his next service was in behalf of The Merchants' Fund 
 of Philadelphia, an association incorporated in 1854, whose 
 purpose, as defined in the second article of its charter, is 
 " To furnish relief to indigent merchants of the city of 
 Philadelphia, especially such as are aged and infirm." The 
 twentieth annual meeting of this society was held on the 
 evening of January 27, 1874, before a large assemblage at 
 the Academy of Music. Mr. Brown was the third regular 
 speaker on the occasion, and was thus introduced by Mr. 
 Frederick Fraley, the chairman of the meeting : 
 
72 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 "We have heard the Church speak for our charity, we 
 have heard the Merchant speak for our charity, and now 
 we are to hear the Law speak for our charity. I know that 
 merchants depend often upon the lawyers for good counsel 
 and good guidance through their troubles, and I know that 
 the eloquent gentleman whom I am about to introduce to 
 you can represent properly the much-abused profession of 
 the law. I have the honor of introducing my friend, Mr. 
 Henry Armitt Brown." His address was a thoughtful and 
 elaborately prepared production. Among friendly notices 
 was the following from the Philadelphia Press : " Our 
 young orator talked like an old statesman. He applies 
 what he draws from the past to the necessities of the present. 
 He has an axiomatic style. Few men of his age have gone 
 back to borrow from the old examples, and forward to wel- 
 come the new inspirations, with a happier faculty. There 
 is in the address a model for the young men of our day, 
 and the merchants for whom he spoke could have had no 
 better interpreter of their sj)lendid benevolence." 
 
 But more stirring times in politics were at hand. Reeling 
 blows were to be given and received. The Municipal Re- 
 form question once again rose to prominence and agitated 
 the whole community. The efforts of the party of reform, 
 who were ever steadily at work, had already brought about 
 positive results. The contest in Pennsylvania over the new 
 constitution had been fought and won by the friends of reform 
 by a majority of over one hundred and forty-five thousand. 
 The introduction of needed changes by the new State consti- 
 tution had, as was supposed, made the municipalities com- 
 j)aratively independent; had destroyed the capacities for evil 
 of the Legislature; had rendered fraud more difficult to per- 
 petrate; had insured fairer elections; had lessened the oppor- 
 tunities for plunder. Their success, however, injured them. 
 
MUNICIPAL REFORM. 73 
 
 Tlie Reform partv, " unused to being on the Manning side," 
 had grown lax. The party in power thereupon had redoubled 
 their efforts, and had renominated the w'hole ticket of those 
 who were then incumbents. The boldness of this move- 
 ment, in the face of all that had been established by 
 reform, together with the detecting of actual frauds in the 
 recent election, reawakened the energies of the independent 
 party, and, after nnicli discussion, they nominated Alexander 
 K. McClure for the mayoralty of Philadelphia. This nomi- 
 nation aroused enthusiasm and opposition. Mr. McClure 
 was well known to be a man of great force and of unusual 
 power of attack. He was distasteful to some of the leaders 
 of the independent movement itself, but he was supported 
 heartily by the great majority of the Reform party, composed 
 of Republicans and Democrats, who Avere determined to 
 break the " ring" by using a powerful instrument. Enor- 
 mous mass-meetings were organized, which were character- 
 ized by unexampled enthusiasm. At these meetings, and 
 es]iecially at the great ratification meeting held at Horti- 
 cultural Hall on the evening of March 31, 1874, McClure 
 was the principal speaker ; and his speeches were really 
 wonderful specimens of boldness, originality, sarcasm, and 
 a kind of resistless Dantonesque eloquence. No less weighty, 
 though calmer in tone, were the speeches of Mr. Brown, 
 who threw himself into this election contest with all his 
 strength. If the best men of the Republican party held 
 back and demurred at coming up to the mark as candidates, 
 he did not wait for them nor spend time "in searching for 
 angels," but, taking whom he believed to be the most avail- 
 able man for aggressive reform purposes, he fought for him 
 with all his might. Thus on the evening of February 4, 
 he made a rough-and-ready speech for reform at Oxford 
 Hall, in the Twenty-ninth Ward, in which he declared that 
 
74 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 the world-wide reputation of Philadelphia for being a clean 
 city, "so clean that you could eat your dinner in the streets," 
 was a bygone tradition, and the only ones who could eat 
 their dinners in the streets now were the hogs. These were 
 the city scavengers. He showed the gradual multiplication 
 of abuses, the steady increase of municipal indebtedness, 
 and the peculiar method of taxation to secure the largest 
 revenue from the taxpayers. He set forth the excessive 
 valuations upon j^roperty, the steady growth of the tax-rate, 
 the undue increase of taxation as onerous, both upon the 
 rich property-holder and the poor tenant, because the latter 
 was obliged to pay the tax in rent, and the fact that there 
 was no due return for this increased taxation, the city being 
 more badly kept, the water facilities being poorer, and the 
 lighting more defective, and that while each citizen was en- 
 titled to the seven hundred and fiftieth part of a policeman, 
 yet not more than the one-fiftieth part of that fraction 
 was allowed him. But the two principal speeches that he 
 made during this short and sharp campaign for Centennial 
 mayor deserve to be more fully recorded : the first, at Ger- 
 mantown, Pennsylvania, February 7, from its boldness, 
 pungency, and wit; and the second, at Horticultural Hall, 
 in Philadelphia, a week afterwards, a briefer sj^eech, from 
 its incidental exhibition of character. We have only space 
 for the second shorter speech : 
 
 "Fellow-Citizens, — I shall not speak to you at length to-night, for 
 I am not well, and there are many other speakers on this platform. 
 It seems to me impossible to exaggerate the importance of this contest. 
 It is all very well for our opponents to tell us that there is nothing 
 to he decided on Tuesday next but whether Mr. Stokley or Mr. 
 McClure shall be mayor of Philadelphia. It is to their interest to 
 tell us so, and try to make the people believe it, but it is all a great 
 mistake. [Applause.] The men who tell you that don't think so 
 themselves ; they don't understand the people of this city, and have 
 
SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 75 
 
 not understood them for a long time past. They have taken mildness 
 for cowardice, patience for fear, forbearance for stupidity. They 
 have underrated you and overrated themselves, and the time for be- 
 lieving them has long passed away. [Here a disturbance broke out 
 in the gallery. One of Mayor Stokley's policemen having expressed 
 his disapproval of the speaker's sentiments, there were loud cries of 
 "Put him out!" Mr. B. called out, "Let hira alone ; he'll vote all 
 right on Tuesday." The audience laughed and the speaker pro- 
 ceeded.] That wonderful meeting of the 31st of January was some- 
 thing more than a political demonstration. It was the outgrowth of 
 the times. It was the natural result of years of misgovernment ; it 
 was the protest against a corrupt tyranny of an abused and plun- 
 dered people ! It was the uprising of honest men against a system 
 which had fastened itself upon them until it seemed as if there was 
 no shaking it off; it was the beginning of a new era in Philadelphia. 
 [Cheers.] And so I repeat, as I look this vast audience in the face, 
 that it is impossible to exaggerate the importance of this contest. 
 There is not a man within sound of my voice who doesn't know in 
 his heart how important a day to him, and all of us, the 17th of Feb- 
 ruary will be. It is not a question simply of the mayoralty, of the 
 success of this man or the other; it is a question whether the people 
 shall have its own again, or whether this great city shall forever 
 hereafter be absolutely governed by a few bad men. [Applause.] 
 This is the question f )r you to decide. You cannot escape it ; it is a 
 responsibility yon cannot shirk. You must perpetuate the present 
 state of tilings or destroy it now forever. [Applause.] And while 
 the contest seems to me to be the most important in the history of 
 Philadelphia, there never was a greater contrast between two parties. 
 It is a battle between regulars and militia; but the regulars are de- 
 moralized and disheartened, and the militia have enthusiasm and 
 overwhelming numbers. [Cheers.] It is a struggle between the 
 politicians and the people, but Right and Virtue are on the people's 
 side. [Applause.] You have, in the first place, on the one hand, a 
 non-partisan nomination. [Cheering.] The event of thirteen days 
 ago, which made this place historic, was the spontaneous outburst 
 of a general sentiment in this community. The people, outraged 
 and betrayed, found here at last a leader [applause], and the great 
 effort to lift the affaii-s of Philadelphia out of the field of national 
 politics took then a form. You have, I say, in Colonel McClure's 
 
76 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 iioiiiination an attemjit to break up partisan control and rally the 
 honest men of all parties on the side of good government. And how- 
 has tliis canvass been conducted? Night after night he goes about 
 from hall to hall in every part of this great city to talk to the mul- 
 titudes who cram them, even on such rainy Avinter nights as this, — to 
 talk fairly and frankly, — to tell them why they need reform (if any 
 men can be found in this city to believe that we do not need it), and 
 to point them to a safe deliverance. [Cheers.] lie is supported in 
 this by men of both parties. At every meeting at which I have had 
 the good fortune to be present I have heard Democrats and Repub- 
 licans talking to the people, side by side and shoulder to shoulder in 
 the common cause. He is supported by a newspaper which has not 
 yet contained a falsehood or an unfair argument, or an ungenerous 
 personal attack. Day after day in every part of it you see the same 
 thing; in its editorials, in the speeches which it contains, and which 
 I believe the people read [applause], unanswertxble arguments in 
 favor of reform. It is frank, it is honest, it speaks the simple truth, 
 and if there should be no other result in the contest Philadelphians 
 should thank The Press for showing them the rare example of an 
 honest, independent newspaper. [Grca^t applause.] Money we have 
 little, barely enough to pay from day to day the expenses of our 
 meetings and the advertising bills of hostile newspapers : but the 
 money that comes hourly in snuill sums from the people proves that 
 there still lingers in this community a love of courage and inde- 
 pendence, and that the people of Philadelphia know well enough in 
 whose victory their safety lies. [Api)lause.] Thus, day by day, 
 night after night, the fight goes on ; the people i-ead, and listen, and 
 reflect, and the cause of their enemies grows steadily more desper- 
 ate. [Applause.] The nomination of Mr. Stokley is a partisan 
 nomination forced on the party by a few of its managers. And how 
 do they conduct their part of this campaign? They have control of 
 every office and all the patronage of power. They command a small 
 army of office-holders, and boast that they own a large contingent 
 force of colored voters. They draw immense sums of money for all 
 imaginable expenses from innumerable sources. By a skilful use 
 of every means they scatter broadcast partisan newspapers and false 
 tax receipts [applause], and, as I see to-night, beautiful engravings, 
 accompanied by biograpliies. [Laughter.] The carefully prepared 
 accounts of their meetings, with immense lists of vice-presidents, 
 
SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 77 
 
 many of whom are openly supporting Colonel McClure, are dis- 
 tributed by the policemen in every portion of the city. They rake 
 up stale slanders, dead and buried fifteen years ago, and parade 
 their mouldei'ing relics in the charnel-house of a Sunday newspaper, 
 and, notwithstanding that the refutation comes at once from the 
 author of the slanderous article himself, they continue to slip the 
 paper, marked with colored pencils, under honest men's doors while 
 they are asleep. In place of arguments they give you slanders ; 
 they answer reason with abuse, the jjrotest of the people with a party- 
 cry [applause], and not content with announcing themselves at every 
 meeting as the exclusive possessors of every virtue, each one cling- 
 ing desperately to the much-alnised prefix of ' the Honorable,' they 
 unite in calling the independent movement of the people of this 
 great city to destroy the power which has made their city govern- 
 ment a disgrace among their countrymen and choose a ruler for 
 themselves — the audacious attempt to seize power of ' the criminal 
 classes.' [Cheers.] They harp forever on a single string ; and, as 
 many a fellow in a scrape has done before, they think to divert 
 attention from themselves by calling out 'Police!' [Laughter.] 
 It is not surprising, my friends, that they should take this course. 
 The men Avho have governed Philadelphia for the past few years are 
 capable of anything but good. [Cheers.] They have crept into 
 power through the apathy of some inen and the partisanship of 
 others. They have grown to believe themselves the natural rulers of 
 the people, they have used their offices for their own good and that of 
 their associates ; they have ruled you with an absolute sway. What 
 wonder is it then that they should use every nieans, and with the 
 lowest means they are the most familiar, to defeat your efi'ort to 
 throw off their weight and try to perpetuate forever their ill-used 
 power! "What wonder that the men who were caught in the act of 
 defrauding you but a few Aveeks ago, who have persistently declined 
 to investigate that 'hole' [laughter], who have the audacity to ask 
 you to prolong their power by the very votes of which for years they 
 have deprived you [applause], should go but a step further and call 
 themselves honorable and the people of Philadelphia the criminal 
 classes! [Cheers.] Do they answer our arguments? No. Do 
 they reply to our questions? No. Do they deny that our debt is 
 steadily increasing; that our taxation has quadrupled; that rents 
 are forced up and great industries driven from our city ; that the 
 
78 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 people are deceived and plundered right and left; that groat public 
 improvements are often turned into great private jobs ; that the 
 offices of the city are in unworthy hands ; that they whom you have 
 trusted have deceived you ; whom you have honored have betrayed 
 you ; whom you have made yonr servants have sought to be your 
 masters? Do they deny any of these things? Fellow-citizens, no. 
 They content themselves with one general answer: That the safety 
 of this city demands the success of the Republican party, that Mr. 
 Stokley is not at all the kind of man for mayor, but that he has 
 given you a good police. [Laughter.] The safety of Philadelphia 
 depends upon no party, and upon the success of no party candidate. 
 [Cheers.] It rests on the character and intelligence of its citizens, 
 and if they be content to be ruled by men of neither ability nor 
 character, to intrust the control of their public affiiirs to those to 
 whom few of them would commit their private business, no Repub- 
 lican nor any other party can save their city from destruction. 
 [Applause.] Ci)rruption is a disease of rapid growth, and for it 
 there is but a single cure. [Cheers.] I don't object to Mr. Stokley 
 as a man. That he has raised himself to a place of prominence in 
 this community, if the means he has always made use of have been 
 beyond a question, should be in this country especially an honor to 
 him. It is — or let me say it should he — the peculiar pride of Ameri- 
 cans that here, under our free institutions, there is for every man a 
 chance, and no aristocracy is recognized but an aristocracy of brains 
 and character. [Applause.] Nor do I object to Mr. Stokley because 
 he is a politician. I do not share the usual contempt of men for that 
 much-abused title. It is in itself an honorable name. There can 
 be no profession more honorable, short of the ministry of Christ, 
 than the profession of politician : but of politician in its nobler, 
 better sense. To devote great talents and lofty character to the 
 common good, to consecrate great powers to the service of the State, 
 to stand up in her defence unmoved alike by the fickle winds of 
 favor or the tempests of adversity, to act from no motive but love 
 of the common weal, — this is to be a politician and a statesman 
 [applause], though small men, by the practice of low, selfish arts, 
 have dragged both names down into disgrace. I say I object to Mr. 
 Stokley not because he is a politician and has taken an active part 
 in the affairs of his division and his ward, for that is what every 
 patriotic American should do. [Applause.] 
 
SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 79 
 
 "But I do object to him because he is identified with bad govern- 
 ment in Philadelpliia. [Loud apphiuse.] Because he is an instru- 
 ment in the hands and to-day the chief representative of a band of 
 politicians who have been tried and long ago found wanting [ap- 
 plause] ; who have plundered this people and lowered the tone of 
 public morals ; who have done more to drag down the name of poli- 
 tician, and prevent the rise of talent and of honest worth, than any 
 class of men who ever ruled a city. [Great applause.] Talk of the 
 old Greek tyrannies, of oligarchs, and the thirty tyrants who poisoned 
 Socrates and banished honest men from Athens! This is a more 
 frightful tyranny. This is an enlightened age. These are the days 
 of newspapers, the teachers of morality to the people, of commou 
 schools, of the railroad and the telegraph. It is a tyranny over mind 
 as well as body ; it is an organized attempt to exclude all independ- 
 ence, all character, all ability, from any share of power, and prosti- 
 tute the highest offices to the lowest purposes. [Cheers.] This is 
 why the Ring rulers of Philadelphia draw the line so low, — they 
 know that to lift their standard half an inch on the scale of ability 
 or honesty would be forever to exclude themselves. [Great ap- 
 plause.] This is why they shut up every avenue to honor in this 
 city and force all aspirants for power to follow in their train. This 
 is why they fight all good reforms; why they conduct this canvass 
 with slander and abuse, — because they have determined that no man 
 of character, ability, or independence shall ever rule in Philadelphia. 
 [Applause.] 
 
 "Between him and them they know there must be warfare unto 
 death, and they ai'e bound, if it be possible, to drive such men for- 
 ever out of puljlic life. It is a necessity of their being, — it is their 
 only safeguard in the future, to make a canvass so low, so degrading, 
 so revolting to every sense of right, that no man in the future whom 
 you may ask to serve you will be willing to subject himself and his 
 family to the horrors of a canvass before the people of Philadelphia ! 
 [Applause.] I remember to have read that when a great man was 
 attacked by his enemies who sought to banish him from Athens, he 
 met a citizen who asked him to write his name on a vote in favor of 
 his banishment. 'What has he done to oS"end you?' asked the 
 statesman. ' Nothing,' replied the man, who did not know the other; 
 ' but I want him banished because I hate to hear a man always called 
 the Good and Just.' It is this state of feeling among the people of 
 
80 MEMOIR OF HEART ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Philadelphia which these men hope to foster and to cultivate, — in 
 spite of good examples, — in spite of schools and newspapers, — in 
 spite of all the teachings of the past. And it is this system which 
 you will perpetuate if you re-elect Mr. Stokley. [Applause.] You 
 will say amen to all the past and set the seal of your approval on 
 the present municipal government and postpone deliverance perhaps 
 for a generation or perhaps forever. [Applause.] And think, my 
 friends, what a lesson you teach the young men of Philadelphia! 
 Remember, you who are old men, that your children did not see 
 the times when this city was governed by her best and ablest citizens ; 
 when (it is but thirty or forty years ago) you sent to your Councils 
 men like Joseph R. Chandler [applause], and Frederick Fraley [ap- 
 plause], and Joseph G. Clarkson [applause], and George Sharswood 
 [applause], and Henry J. AVilliams [applause], and Peter McCall 
 [applause] ; when they were presided over by James Page [ap- 
 plause], and Joseph R. Ingersoll [applause], and William Bradford 
 [great applause], and your Select Council for nearly sixteen years 
 by no less a man than AVilliam Morris Meredith. [Great applause.] 
 Remember, I repeat, we have never seen such times as those, and 
 you know the influence of l)ad example upon youth. Perpetuate this 
 Ring and you say to tlie young men of Philadelphia, — ' Honesty is 
 not the Itest policy ; it is all a lie. The lust of power and greed for 
 gold, — these are the noblest sentiments that can move the human 
 heart. The people of Philadelphia want nothing better than selfish 
 politicians to rule over them. Purity is weakness, — honest men are 
 fools. To be patriotic is to be insane, — to have ability is to be over- 
 burdened in the race of life. To be a man of culture is to be a snob!' 
 [Great cheering.] This is the lesson which Mayor Stokley's re-elec- 
 tion will teach ; and on you will rest the responsibility of teaching 
 it. [Applause.] And do not doubt that your children will better 
 the instruction. My fellow-citizens, in less than three years the eyes 
 of all men will be turned to Philadelphia. The celebration of a 
 great event will bring to your city the representatives of every race. 
 Then, when they shall gather reverently about the birthplace of 
 your liberty, — when, on that great anniversary, men of all nations 
 shall stand in Independence Hall and gaze upon the portraits of 
 Adams, and Jefferson, and Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and 
 your own Robert Morris, will you have them say : ' Begun and ended 
 in an hundred years ! This people had every blessing which Provi- 
 
RESULT OF ELECTION IX ^' PENN MONTHLY.'' 81 
 
 ilence could bestow, — and threw it to the winds; Prosperity, — and 
 they trampled it under foot ; Power, — and they bartered it away ; 
 Liberty, — and they sold her into bondage ; Virtue, — and they drove 
 her from among them ! In all things they were fortunate, and 
 in all things unworthy. AVhat is gold without honor? What is 
 America without that which chiefly constitutes a State, — an honest 
 man?' [Continued cheering.] My fellow-citizens, it is for you alone 
 to decide the future of your country. But if you would be true to 
 the teachings of your fathers, true to your duty to posterity, decide 
 aright the question now hanging on your acts, and let the sun go 
 down next Tuesday afternoon upon a redeemed city, in a regenerated 
 Commonwealth." [Great and continued applause.] 
 
 The result of this hard-fouo-iit election is given in ]\Ir. 
 Brown's words in the March number of the Penn Monthly, 
 1874. He writes: 
 
 "It Avas a struggle between enthusiasm and organization, and the 
 latter triumphed, as it generally will. On election day the First 
 Ward and the Tenth were literally taken possession of by repeaters, 
 and the Democratic districts, under the lead of statesmen like Mr. 
 
 and the Hon. , declined to give the usual Democratic 
 
 majorities. The command of unlimited means enaljled the party 
 in power to scatter messengers and extras of newspapers with 
 imaginary returns in every quarter of the city. A panic was thus 
 produced, and the innumerable company of men upon the fence, 
 hesitating how to exercise the inaliena1)le right of freemen, jumped 
 down with one accord upon the Stokley side. In a poll of nearly 
 one hundred and eleven thousand the Republican candidate had 
 about eleven thousand majority. It has become so customary after 
 elections in this country for the defeated party to raise the cry of 
 fraud that it has quite lost its significance, and seems to be a sequel 
 to every political contest. In this case, however, the fraud was not 
 of the kind with which we have become familiar under the registry 
 law ; it was perpetrated rather through personation and repeating 
 than l)y false count, though in some cases where the minority in- 
 spector could be bought, that also was indulged in, but it is not reas- 
 suring to find that the safeguards which the new constitution Avas 
 supposed to throw about the ballot do not avail to secure to Philadel- 
 
82 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 phia a fair and free election. It is doubtful, however, whether an 
 election can be held in a large city without the commission of fraud, 
 for we hear at the present time of much trouble arising from it in 
 England, and in France elections are no purer than elsewhere. So 
 ended the most brilliant contest of which Philadelpiiia has been the 
 scene, and at this writing the triumph of those who opposed the new 
 constitution and were sixty days ago wearing sackcloth and ashes, 
 their knees knocking together under them for fear, seems complete. 
 The most peculiar feature of the case is the want of enthusiasm with 
 Avhich the success of the Ring is hailed by its most respectable sup- 
 porters. It is a victory over which there has been little exultation, 
 a triumph over which there have been tears." 
 
 The Penn Monthly Magazine had for many years been 
 carried on by a number of young Philadelphians in the 
 interest of social, political, and educational science, aiming, 
 above all, at the thoughtful diffusion of true principles of 
 government and political rights. Mr, Brown found a 
 corner in this publication, and for four or five years of his 
 life he was editor of the department entitled the " Month." 
 This consisted of disconnected articles, sometimes only 
 paragraphs, upon subjects of passing but not fleeting in- 
 terest, as he often headed his remarks, " It is not designed 
 to discuss here all the chief topics of current interest, but 
 only those upon which we have something to say." Here, 
 as learnedly or lightly, just, in fact, as he felt at the mo- 
 ment, he touched the salient points of characters and events. 
 Up to this period a great variety of subjects (though they 
 grew to be more and more of a political nature) had been 
 treated in a crisp way, — the new German empire; the old 
 Catholic congress ; financial questions and paper money ; 
 English high-churchism ; Mr. Froude and Father Burke; 
 republicanism in Spain ; the epizootic; the Siamese twins ; 
 the electoral vote for President ; Agassiz ; Bismarck ; 
 McMahon; government appointments; Grant's adminis- 
 
COXTBIBUTIONS TO " PENN MONTHLY." 83 
 
 tratioii ; Credit 3Iobilicr ; the currency bill; strikes in 
 England ; municipal reform ; civil service reform ; the 
 coming Centennial Exposition ; and a vast many other 
 themes of more or less importance. We shall have occa- 
 sion to quote from the "Month." Two or three specimens 
 of these literary improvisations may give some idea of 
 their character. Their estimate of men and things is not 
 always as " all think." 
 
 " The death of Charles Sumner ends at once all controversy in 
 reference to his recent unpopular course in tlie Senate, and recalls 
 only his great services to the nation in his earlier and better years. 
 lie was a thoroughly educated man, and his whole life was an 
 instance of the result of culture in a man of not uncommon gifts. 
 Besides a fine personal appearance, nature had not bestowed on 
 Mr. Sumner many strong qualities either of mind or judgment. 
 He was from the outset, and he remained to the last, a diligent, 
 patient, exhaustive student, and his work at the bar, in the Senate, 
 and on the stump. — though it seems to class his elegant oratory 
 with the effusions of our ordinary politicians, — was always the 
 result of hard, steady application. As a Lawyer he reported and 
 edited the opinions of others ; he lectured on law at Harvard Col- 
 lege, and wrote a pamphlet on the Oregon question, but he gained 
 no great distinction at the bar. His entry into political life was in 
 opposition, and he showed to best advantage in his persistent advo- 
 cacy of the abolition of slavery and in the establishment of equal 
 rights to the coloi*ed race. His addresses in and out of the Senate 
 were labored, careful, and thorough, but had little of the fire of 
 eloquence or the force of conviction in them. But in them, as in 
 his whole life, he was honest, open, straightforward, and persistent. 
 He alone in the Senate of the United States maintained the ti-adi- 
 tions of the orators of an earlier day, as one who had united 
 scholarly eloquence with active political partisanship, and with him 
 the race of great public speakers seems at an end. Contrasted with 
 Clay and Webster, it is clear that he had little of their innate fire 
 and genius, but measured by the standard of the colleagues of to- 
 day, there is no one of them who could cope with him in the sort 
 of studied oratory which he made his own to the very last. But 
 
84 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 his best and highest quality as a citizen and as a Senator was his 
 inflexible honesty. It never occurred to him that he could be asked 
 or expected to do anything that would sully his character, and no 
 man ever suspected him of any but honest motives in all he did. 
 His love of literature led him into kindred pursuits of art, and his 
 collection of books and pictures, of rare engravings and sculpture, 
 was such as showed the nicest taste and the most refined culture. 
 In this, too, he stood almost alone, for his colleagues in Congress 
 are too deeply immersed in the business of politics to have any time 
 for the cultivation of their intellects. As a representative, therefore, 
 of the best culture of the country, his loss will be felt in Washington 
 and in Boston. The incidents of his life are too well known to be 
 rehearsed here, and his death is too recent for an impartial judgment 
 of his merits as a statesman and of his services to his country. His 
 example of honesty in the midst of corruption, of courage in the face 
 of bitter hostility, may well efface the painful recollections of the 
 later years of his life, embittered by ill health and domestic griefs." 
 
 There are many publislied statements and utterances of 
 Mr. Brown which show that he held in high esteem the 
 memory and cliaracter of liini wliose " empty chair" was 
 for so long the most eloquent speech in the Senate of the 
 United States. 
 
 "The counting of the electoral vote for President and Vice-Presi- 
 dent has brought to public notice the dangers and absurdities of the 
 present system of choosing our Chief Magistrate, and the consequent 
 propriety of sweeping changes in the Constitution. The main pur- 
 pose of tlie authors of our present arrangements has been entirely 
 defeated by the shape that partisan organizations and methods have 
 taken, and the cumbersome machinery of the electoral colleges now 
 serves no purpose whatever. It is to be hoped that this is not the 
 only part of the Constitution that will be changed. Let the Presi- 
 dential term be extended to ten years and a re-election forbidden. 
 Bring all civil officials, except members of the Cabinet and foreign 
 ministers, under the tenure of office that now applies to the judges — 
 'for life or good behavior.' And abolisli all tlie local restrictions 
 that prevent citizens of one State from being elected to the service 
 of another, either in the State government or in Congress. This 
 
CONTRIBUTIONS TO '' PENN MONTHLY:' 85 
 
 last amendment would do much to give breadth and true nationality 
 of spirit to our pultlic men. It would deter men of foresight from 
 giving themselves up to the petty and selfish aims of a district, by 
 the hope that their self-denial and really public spirit would meet 
 with appreciation elsewhere ; ' a prophet has honor save in his own 
 country and in his father's house.' It would relieve our younger 
 
 and weaker States from the necessity of sending , , and 
 
 other corruptibilities and vacuities to the United States Senate, with- 
 out impairing beyond measure the care exercised by Congressmen to 
 promote the special interests of their constituents. As it is, Congress- 
 men are mere local erran<l-boys to tlie national struggle for the loaves 
 and the fishes, and Ruskin's gibe was not without its truth : 'There 
 is no res puhlica in America, only a multitudinous res 2}rivat(e.'' " 
 
 " Governor Dix, of New York, has fully justified those who built 
 their hopes upon his firmness and manliness of character. In re- 
 fusing to commute the sentence of Foster he resisted as terrible a 
 pressure as ever sought to sway a man's judgment. In a calm and 
 earnest letter to Dr. Tyng, who was foremost in seeking to save 
 Foster's life, the governor gives his reasons for doing what he con- 
 ceives to be his duty. They are such as one would expect from him. 
 With a tenderness that is morbid, for which we are remarkal)le in 
 this country, we forget that when a jury has pronounced upon a 
 man's guilt, and the courts have determined that he has been law- 
 fully tried and found guilty, his punishment becomes a question of 
 the execution of the laws. A jury is not required to consider the 
 consequences, but the act itself, and to find, not whether a man 
 shall be imprisoned for life or put to death, but whether or not he is 
 guilty of the offence with which he is charged. For certain crimes 
 the wisdom of mankind, directed and modified by experience, has 
 fixed certain punishments, and he deserves well of his country who, 
 unmoved by fear or favor and undismayed by responsibility, stands 
 firmly by his duty, as he understands it, and executes the command 
 of that law which is the safeguard of us all." 
 
 " The Connecticut election is full of significance, and at the same 
 time it is not. Connecticut is always an uncertain State, and this 
 year the feuds among the Republican leaders, coupled with the 
 strength of Governor Ingersoll and the prestige of his excellent 
 
86 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 administration, would have made the result doubtful in any case. 
 But, on the other hand, the prize for which both parties were con- 
 tending was not the governorship, which is open every year, but 
 the seat in the Senate occupied for the past six years by Governor 
 Buckingham. Under these circumstances the defeat of the Repub- 
 licans is a severe blow. Their candidate this year was an excellent 
 one, the leader of the bar in New Haven, and nothing was left 
 undone to win success. But in Connecticut, as in some other States 
 of the Union, many of the best men in the Republican ranks have 
 become disheartened and disgusted ; and in such a state of feeling 
 there seem to be worse things in this life than the defeat of one's 
 party. Some stayed away from the polls, and others even voted 
 against the ticket from the belief that a defeat, perhaps, would be 
 beneficial punishment to the leaders of the party. It must be 
 added, too, that the Democracy of Connecticut is of rather a liberal 
 and practical kind. It is very apt to place good men before the 
 people, and is not entirely incapable of taking advantage of its 
 opponents' mistakes. It has courted, too, rather than repelled the 
 advances of the Liberals and of discontented Republicans with evi- 
 dent benefit to itself. Should the re-election of so admirable a 
 governor as Mr. Ingersoll be followed by the choice of some equally 
 good man as Mr. Buckingham's successor, there will be no occasion 
 to regret this Republican defeat •, but there is great danger, from 
 w^hat we hear, of the election of some one who will strengthen 
 neither the State, the Senate, nor the cause of reform." 
 
 " The French Assembly has had one or two strong debates. One 
 of these occasions gave M. Gamljetta an opportunity, which he im- 
 proved, to make a brilliant speech. But the day has gone by when 
 a speech can affect the result of such contests. Where the feeling 
 is marked, a striking figure or appeal may deepen it, as in the 
 debate in which D'Audritfet-Pasquier likened Alsace and Lorraine 
 to the lost legions of Varus, and roused the feelings of his hearers 
 to the utmost ; but it is to be doubted if it is possible for any orator 
 at the present day to overcome prejudice, or break to pieces by any 
 power of speech the chains forged and riveted by political manage- 
 ment and intrigue. 
 
 " The system adopted here at home of carrying on legislative 
 business forbids the cultivation of oratory by robbing it of practical 
 
HAS ORATORY GONE OUT? 87 
 
 effect; the habit of writing speeches is de.ath to debate, and the 
 customs now so successfully practised of lobbying and log-rolling 
 put on the finishing touclies. The gift of eloquence is apt to be 
 undervalued in a country where money is the standard of worth, 
 and is sure to be despised by those who have it not. The taste of 
 the age, too, is growing less favorable to speech-making, and the 
 orations of M. Gambetta, and of Sefior Castelar, are far less effective 
 now than they would have been fifty years ago. Oratory is going 
 out with the romantic and the picturesque." 
 
 That oratory is " going out," or has gone out, we do not 
 believe. Mr. Carlyle may tell us that " silence is the eter- 
 nal duty of man" ; but oratory is a fact of human nature. 
 Macaulay suggests that the scientific intellect has usurped 
 the place of the primitive emotions, and therefore great 
 poets and orators are no longer the power they were. But 
 it is the occasion which brings out the orator. In our 
 recent stormy history, at one of the great war-meetings, a 
 plain Connecticut governor, who had no conception that he 
 would be called an orator, made the most eloquent address 
 it was our fortune ever to hear. He cast rhetoricians be- 
 hind his back. He turned men's minds as rivers of water 
 are turned. In the time of need the orator or prophet 
 appears. The man of heroic will, of cheerful hope, of the 
 ready hand and the ready speech, who speaks out of a pas- 
 sionate heart, who speaks wisely as well as courageously, 
 then becomes the master influence. All obey because God 
 breathes through him, and the truth is with him as a visible 
 sceptre. Emerson says that " it is rare to find a man who 
 believes his own thought or who speaks that which he was 
 created to say" ; but when such a man appears there is the 
 power to sway minds which we call eloquence. Our own 
 orator, at all events, in spite of his Penn 3IonthIy theories, 
 had not yet won his greatest triumph. That was to come, 
 and was soon to come. 
 
88 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 It was now nearly approaching the time when another 
 important event in the country's history was to have its 
 centennial anniversary ; and this time the scene was at home 
 in Philadelphia. 
 
 On the 5th of September, 1774, the first Continental 
 Congress that had been called to deliberate upon the troubles 
 which were growing more and more serious between the 
 colonies and the parent country, met at Carpenters' Hall. 
 This venerable building, so intimately associated with the 
 Revolutionary period, was erected in 1768, by the Carpen- 
 ters' Company of Philadelphia, which still occupies it, pre- 
 serving its relics and its appearance, as far as possible, both 
 within and without. " It stands in the centre of a little 
 court, or cul-de-sac, a]:)proached from Chestnut Street by a 
 narrow alley, between Third and Fourth Streets. It is of 
 cruciform shape, two stories in height, surmounted by a 
 cupola, and is constructed of red and l)laek bricks, in a 
 style in vogue a century ago, — its checkered walls being in 
 curious correspondence with its history. In general archi- 
 tectural style it closely resembles Independence Hall. The 
 plainness of the fa9ade is relieved somewhat by balustrades 
 under the u])per M'indows, and by a portico in Doric style, 
 which is called 'a frontispiece' in the old minutes of the 
 company. For ' turning the columns of the frontispiece' 
 Samuel Fletcher was paid, according to the minutes, the 
 sum of tM'o pounds and three pence. The lot attached to 
 the building originally extended out to Chestnut Street, and 
 was leased at an annual ground-rent of ' 176 Spanish milled 
 pieces of eight,' but it became too valuable for the company 
 to retain, and they now hold only a few square yards of 
 grass-plots and walks in front of the hall, and a narrow 
 strip at the sides and rear. The huge bulk of the build- 
 ings in front, upon the street, eclipses entirely the modest, 
 
THE ''CAIiPEXTEBS' HALL" ADDRESS. 89 
 
 quaint okl hall, and its eventful history was almost as effec- 
 tually eclipsed by the throng of recent events until the 
 approach of the Centennial of American Independence 
 brought it to notice." The chief interest attached to the 
 hall arises from the fact that the first Continental Congress 
 met there, and held its first and second sessions in the large 
 room on the ground-floor of the building. The carpenters 
 have a tradition that the Constitutional Convention met in 
 the same room in 1789, and held there the whole of the 
 four months' session during which the Constitution was 
 formed. But this cannot be substantiated ; and probably 
 Carpenters' Hall is not entitled to the honor claimed for it 
 of having sheltered the Fathers of the Republic while they 
 were engaged in forming the Constitution ; but notwith- 
 standing this doubt it is an historically interesting edifice. 
 In the hall itself are the desks and chairs used by the fifty- 
 four Continental delegates, and they are in about the same 
 position as they were one hundred years ago. It seats some 
 four hundred persons, and, on the day of the celebration in 
 1874, it was closely packed, while a patient crowd stood 
 without during the speaking. A profusion of flags deco- 
 rated the interior, and upon the walls hung the portraits of 
 Peyton Randolph, President of the Congress, of the Rev. 
 Jacob Duche, its chaplain, who offered the memorable 
 prayer (how great the pity that he should have afterwards 
 turned Tory !), and of Thomas ISIifflin, an early governor 
 of Pennsylvania. On the platform, during the speaking, 
 sat Vice-President Wilson, General Hawley, of Connecti- 
 cut, members of Congress, and other dignitaries. John 
 Welsh, Esq., of Philadelphia, presided, and made a short 
 and forcible speech, which was folloM^ed by Mr. Brown's 
 oration. This is printed among the addresses at the end of 
 this volume. It is certainly not too much to say that in 
 
90 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 its matter and manner it was the most elegant speech de- 
 livered in any part of the country during the Centennial 
 period, and its immediate impression was truly extraordi- 
 nary. The orator's portraitures of Revolutionary characters, 
 especially of Patrick Henry and Washington, were so vivid, 
 that whole ranks of persons in the audience rose and turned 
 around to look in the direction where he pointed, as if ex- 
 pecting to see those men of a hundred years ago sitting in 
 their places. It was a triumph of the imagination seldom 
 witnessed. It was, too, an earnest and soul-full address, 
 fired by the noblest sentiments. It struck a deep chord. 
 The New York Tribime spoke thus of the occasion : " The 
 ceremonies at Carpenters' Hall in Philadel})hia stir the 
 popular heart Avith a feeling of patriotism and pride of 
 country Avhich in these days is not as common as it might 
 be. The national holiday has degenerated into a noisy 
 nuisance. The lives of the heroes of the Revolution have 
 been turned into cheap jokes. It is well that at least once 
 in a hundred years, if no oftener, we consent to reflect seri- 
 ously for a few moments upon the early scenes of our his- 
 tory, and compare the statesmen of the ancient time with 
 our own. Philadelphia was fortunate on Saturday in the 
 choice of an orator. If all the speeches inspired by the 
 Centennial are to be even half as good as Mr. Brown's, we 
 shall be unexpectedly blest." In a more elaborate notice 
 the same paper added : " The oration delivered on Satur- 
 day at the centennial anniversary at Carpenters' Hall of 
 the first meeting of the Continental Congress, was a worthy 
 tribute to the principles and the men that were represented 
 on that ever-memorable occasion. Those who listened to 
 the burning words of the young Philadelphian at Faneuil 
 Hall on the hundredth anniversary of the Boston tea-party, 
 will remember tlie affluence of historical knowledge as well 
 
THE "CARPENTERS' HALL" ADDRESS. 91 
 
 as the broad and earnest patriotism with which liis views 
 were enforced, and will be prepared for the exhibition of 
 similar characteristics in his latest production." 
 
 The Philadelphia Press said : "As the exercises con- 
 tinued, and the oration of the day was being delivered, the 
 whole aspect of the assembly changed. Those there seated 
 were no longer men of business, but sons of liberty who had 
 suddenly realized the grandeur of their birthright. The 
 thrillino; oration fanned into a white heat the long-smothered 
 embers of patriotism until the air seemed heavy with the 
 magnetic influence of deep emotion and mental excitement. 
 Time and again the speaker was enthusiastically applauded, 
 and, when at last he bowed himself from the platform, the 
 whole audience unconsciously arose, the better to express 
 their admiration of and gratitude to the orator for once more 
 rekindling the fires of early patriotism. The scene was one 
 never to be forgotten. Old men whose years overlapped 
 the nineties stood erect with a renewed youth and waved 
 their hats in the air, and the young men, to Avhom the ^^•ord 
 liberty had long been so familiar as to have become an 
 empty sound, seemed suddenly to realize the "deep signifi- 
 cance of the term, and to long for some way of proving 
 their devotion to a government which had cost such precious 
 blood to gain." 
 
 The Philadelphia Evening Herald was very enthusiastic. 
 We will quote a few of the more moderate sentences : 
 
 " No description can reproduce the impression which the 
 orator made upon his audience. He spoke upon a remark- 
 able occasion to a remarkable assemblage, and his most inti- 
 mate associates who knew the man and expected nothing 
 little from him, heard him to the end with increasing sur- 
 prise. They knew that what they had heard was not the 
 fruit of protracted study under favorable auspices, but the 
 
92 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 labor of three brief weeks, wlierein research, composition, 
 and elocutionary preparation were necessarily blended into 
 one, and because of that knowledge the achievement was to 
 them a still greater one than to the ordinary listener. 
 
 " Of ]\Ir. Brown's method of delivery it is impossible to 
 speak as its exceptional character warrants. Artistically it 
 cannot be excelled. It is powerful without being crude; it 
 is inspiring without being inflammatory, teaching the mind 
 as well as the heart. It possesses all the variations of run- 
 ning water, now musical as the brooklet, now sonorous as 
 the cadence of the river. Nature gav^e him a voice, and art 
 made him an orator. Herein lies the secret of his oratory, 
 — a perfect mastery of himself. His fine voice is not more 
 penetrative or powerful than that of many a speaker, but 
 it is in wonderful subjection. It is absolutely free from 
 monotone, which is the distressing feature hardest to shun 
 in oratory, as it is the most difficult to unlearn. To sum 
 it all up in a word, the charm of Mr. Brown's delivery 
 consists in his absolute naturalness. 
 
 '' The subject-matter of this oration deserves a more 
 scholarly analysis than can be made in this review, inas- 
 much as it will henceforth be a part of our history, and 
 because while the few will always remember it as spoken, 
 the many will only know it in its written form." 
 
 It is not necessary to quote further from journalists all 
 over the country, who vied in speaking well of it, to show 
 the estimate at the time of this address. It must speak for 
 itself. The first thought of it may be found in this ex- 
 tract from a letter of Mr. Brown's, dated August 12, 1874 : 
 
 " I have been puzzling myself this afternoon — after my custom — 
 about an invitation I received to-day. September 5 is the centennial 
 of the first meeting of the Continental Congress, which was held in 
 Carpenters' Hall. One of the committee of the Carpenters' Com- 
 
THE ''CARPENTERS' HALL'' ADDRESS. 93 
 
 pany called on me this moi-ninii; to ask me to deliver the oration on 
 the occasion. I told him I would let him know to-morrow, — for the 
 time is very short. — and meantime have been wondering what to do. 
 The occasion is, perhaps, as good as any I have had, and the sulijeot 
 worthy of effort. But I know just as well as you how much I shall 
 have to pass through in these three weeks of hot weather in the 
 agony of preparing such a speech as will reflect credit on myself and 
 do the occasion justice, and I am almost inclined to let the chance 
 go by. Perhaps, however, I may yield to the admonitions of the 
 still, small but ambitious voice within me, which bids me accept 
 this invitation." 
 
 The address was certainly not a random effort shot at an 
 occasion, although composed, as the above letter shows, in 
 an incredibly short time ; but it had heart and toil in it ; 
 it M'as a production thoroughly wrought as a work of art, 
 with much careful research, exquisitely true to fact, cloth- 
 ing past fact with new life and color, and flooding it with 
 warm liglit like a great historical picture, despising the 
 superficial, the vulgar, the smart, the boastful, and evincing 
 a manly conception of classic oratory of an earnest aim, 
 such as is now seldom heard. Its delivery (so it is said) 
 was exceedingly powerful, and even entrancing. Perhaps 
 it would not be too much to say with another (at a time 
 when some critics were talking of the young-mannish rhet- 
 oric of Greece and Rome, a suspicion of which appears in 
 the oration), "He is a young man, it is true; but his 
 address on Saturday night has made him famous."* 
 
 * An interesting fact in regard to this address was communicated 
 to the family by the mother of two young men living in New Eng- 
 land. While members of a preparatory school they were desirous 
 of procuring a scholarship in Harvard College, which they were 
 about to enter. They translated the Carpenters' Hall oration into 
 Latin, one of them taking the first half and the other the second, 
 both of them, by this means, succeeding in their object. 
 
94 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Before plunging again into the subject of ]x>litics, we 
 subjoin an extract from a humorous letter sent to the writer 
 about this time, on the occasion of the playful jiroposal to 
 make the joint purchase of a " Castle on the Rhine," just 
 advertised for sale in the New York Tribune: 
 
 " Tlie ' castle' suits me perfectly. I can imagine the satisfaction 
 I should find in sitting down to dinner ' with my helmet on' in that 
 huge dining-room beneath that heavy-beamed ceiling. How solemn 
 the feasts would be at the beginning ! until the flowing Rhenish (and 
 other medigeval bowls) would wash away the bounds of etiquette, 
 and the vassals would begin to be uproarious at the farther end of 
 the table. With what satisfaction, too, would I go bare-headed to 
 the gate to welcome you, llerr Professor, when you would arrive in 
 pomp and circumstance! Think of the magnificent banquets we 
 should serve up, with the stately dances afterwards, to the sound of 
 harps, in the flaring torchlight, our 'mutual' and 'individual' serfs 
 meanwhile careering around big bonfires in the coui't-yard ! I say 
 the castle suits me perfectly. But the price, — there's the slight dif- 
 ficulty. Twenty-seven thousand pounds may be a small sum for a 
 prince, or a nobleman, or a ' gentleman of position' on the Khine, but 
 here in Philadelphia it is large. At all events, I shall have to delib- 
 erate before I agree to purchase. Perhaps we might buy a castle or 
 two and set them up in Litchfield. You remember that we agreed 
 that pleasant afternoon, when we walked up to Prospect Hill, that 
 something of the kind was all that the scenery there needed to make 
 it European." 
 
 Politics had now a sudden revival, and another brief but 
 sharp contest Avas waged, in which the party of Reform in 
 Philadelphia gained a positive triumph. It was on the 
 occasion of the election of district attorney, and, more par- 
 ticularly, upon the question of the re-election of William 
 B. ]\Iann, Esq., who, for twenty years, with but a short 
 interval, had been in office. Mr. Mann was the Republican 
 candidate, but had already been strongly opposed by the 
 Union League and the party of Reform on grounds of public 
 
LECTURING TOURS. 95 
 
 welfare. A great meeting was held in Horticultural Hall 
 on the evening of October 30, 1874, at which many of the 
 leaders of the Reform movement spoke, not only with 
 freedom and force, but with considerable personal virulence. 
 Mr. Brown was the fourth speaker. It was one of his 
 most effective efforts, calm in tone, but incisive and un- 
 sparing in its dealing with persons and facts. There is every 
 evidence that the election was influenced, and, in foct, de- 
 cided, by this s})irited meeting at Horticultural Hall. The 
 Republican candidate for district attorney was badly de- 
 feated, running behind his ticket, so that for a time the 
 cause of municipal reform M'as in the ascendant. In an 
 extract from a private letter written the next morning 
 by a prominent Reform politician, this result is fore- 
 shadowed : " I am told that our meeting has done its work, 
 and that the feeling in the streets has undergone a decided 
 change." 
 
 About this time Mr. Brown delivered his lecture on 
 " The Story of an Hundred Years" in Boston, as one of the 
 Bay State course of lectures. He was introduced to the 
 audience by his friend, James T. Fields, Esq., who asked 
 for him " the warmest welcome." He gave this and other 
 lectures at many places during this period. He related a 
 funny mistake which happened to him, similar to the one 
 that occurred to Mr. Froude in Boston. Mr. Brown and 
 Edith O'Gorman, the escaped nun, lectured in a town the 
 same night. The next day he was invited to dine out. 
 The lady of the house, in arranging the table, happened to 
 mention the name of Mr. Brown as one of the guests. 
 "An' who is Mr. Brown ?" asked the waitress. " The gen- 
 tleman who lectured last night." "An' is he the escaped 
 nun ? Sure, I'll not work another lick in this house." 
 With that exclamation she bounced out of the room, and it 
 
96 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 required quite an explanation to induce her to come back. 
 On those lecturing tours his letters home were very amus- 
 ing, and are good transcripts of the similar experiences of 
 others. At one place he writes : 
 
 " The hotel where I am staying is a two-storied shanty of unpre- 
 tending exterior. My home has been the bar-room, a small apartment, 
 twelve by fifteen, in the midst of Avhich around a stove have been 
 sitting a gloomy company toasting their cowhide boots in melancholy 
 stillness, and enlivening the occasion only by constant expectoration 
 against the unoffending stove. No sound has broken the stillness 
 since my last vain attempt to organize a diversion, save the sputter- 
 ing remonstrance of the insulted stove, and I have been generally 
 left to my thoughts. It will take a Large and enthusiastic audience 
 and a handsome fee for the intellectual food 1 have prepared for 
 them, to repay me for what I have thus far endured." 
 
 In the following month of December he seems to have 
 done some shooting down in North Carolina, since we find 
 this minute (what the Germans would call Jagd Rapport) 
 among his jxipers, showing good sport: 
 
 Thursday, from 3.30 till sunset, 2 covies. H. A. B., 4; 
 Friday, all day, 9 " 
 
 Saturday, 7 " 
 
 Monday, from 11 till sunset, 7 " 
 Tuesday, all day, 8 " 
 
 At the beginning of the year 1875, Mr. Brown was 
 engaged in aiding in the formation of an International 
 Collegiate Alumni Association, inspired by the Centennial 
 Celebration, of which he was made one of the executive 
 committee. We also find, in addition to his Penn Ilonthlii 
 contributions, an article from him in a Philadelphia paper 
 upon the qualifications of civil magistrates. Its stress is a 
 plea for the adoption of the clause in the conference bill of 
 
 4; 
 
 B.W 
 
 .R. 
 
 ,2 =6 
 
 22; 
 
 ' 
 
 
 7 =29 
 
 30; 
 
 ' 
 
 
 15 =45 
 
 17; 
 
 ' 
 
 
 7&1 snipe = 24 
 
 22 &1 snip 
 
 b; ' 
 
 
 12 =34 
 
QUALIFICATIONS OF CIVIL MAGISTRATES. > 97 
 
 the plirase " leanictl in the law." The line of argument 
 may be gathered from this extract : 
 
 " But it is said that young lawyers, or such members of the bar 
 as will seek to take these places, would spend their time in search- 
 ing for legal points, in settling the law and not the case. This 
 seems to us an unfair assumption, and no sound argument against 
 the lawyer's eligibility. These courts are created for the people's 
 convenience. The more speedy the trial, the more exact the admin- 
 istration of justice, the better for all parties, — save the criminal. 
 Now, the law has certain rules by which its business can best be 
 managed and justice done. There are rules of practice and rules 
 of evidence. They have been suggested by wisdom and tried by 
 experience. And the lawyer only is familiar with them and can 
 apply them safely. Then, too, a certain amount of education is 
 required at the bar. The lawyer can always do more than read 
 and write. He must pass more than one examination before he 
 can enter his profession, and the restriction of which we speak will 
 secure for us, as magistrates, men of at least ordinary education. 
 Then, too, we have a control over him which we have not over the 
 layman. A lawyer is amenable to the censors of the bar. He is a 
 sworn officer of the courts. The one may present him for misde- 
 meanor ; the other may throw him over the bar. If, then, we were 
 to provide that our new magistrates should be learned in the law, 
 we would be sure, at least, of men of some education, of ordinary 
 intelligence (which ought not to be too much to ask), learned 
 enough — not to embarrass a questi(m, perhaps, but to decide a claim 
 with promptness and according to law, and sufficiently familiar with 
 the rules of evidence and procedure to expedite the business of their 
 offices and secure justice, — over whom we would have a control 
 such as we possess over no other member of the community. And 
 then, besides all this, by restricting these offices to the comparatively 
 few men in this city whose l)usiness in life it is to understand and 
 study their powers and duties, we would elevate it in the popular 
 eye and give the magistrate himself a higher dignity. Restrict the 
 choice to members of the bar, and you will stimulate among lawyers 
 ii new and honorable ambition. Undoubtedly there are many ex- 
 cellent men of that profession to-day who would willingly take an 
 office, which thus might be made a professional one and full of use- 
 
98 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 fulness and honor, who would not consent to <ro into the scrainlile 
 with the multitude for a share of powers, scattered among incom- 
 petent and unworthy hands." 
 
 Mr. Brown interested himself in tlie ory-anization of a 
 " Social Art Club" in Philadelphia, and also a " Penn 
 Monthly Association," to include men of literary, scientific, 
 and artistic taste in the city. We must be allowed to say 
 that Philadelphia has a marvellous facility for organizing 
 social and literary clubs, and perhaps that accounts for the 
 exceptionally genial culture among its professional men. 
 She fences herself in with her own institutions, draws from 
 her own life, honors and loves her leading men with en- 
 thusiastic affection, is beholden to no otiier city for her 
 intellectual life. Philadelphia swarms with these good 
 things, and in some points puts other cities to the blush in 
 the fidelity with which she cherishes home talent. Before 
 the " Penn Monthly Association" Carl Schurz was invited 
 to lecture upon " Education Problems." He was intro- 
 duced by Mr. Brown in these off-hand words, " That in 
 performing this act he was introducing to them one who 
 would have been foremost in any Senate of the United 
 States in any period of American history, but one who, in 
 the past ten years, had shone with especial brilliancy in 
 those things which used to be in the past, ought to be in 
 the present, and he trusted would be in the future, tiie only 
 titles to political distinction, — great learning, great ability, 
 unsullied character." Tiie friendship with Mr. Schurz, 
 which had been already begun before this time, w\as one 
 of those influences imperceptibly drawing Mr. Brown into 
 a broader field of political life. Their correspondence 
 shows the reliance Mr. Schurz had upon his friend's judg- 
 ment, courage, and capacity. Shortly after this, Mr. Brown 
 joined with others in giving a complimentary dinner in 
 
SPEECH AT BELMONT MANSION. 99 
 
 Xew York (April 27, 1875) to Mr. Schurz, at which time 
 he made a speech. He was also an invited guest and 
 speaker at the celebration of the battle of Lexington in 
 the same month, and shared the toils of the journey 
 between Lexington and Boston on that highly interesting 
 but somewhat confused occasion. 
 
 In the month of May the merchants of Philadelphia 
 gave a dinner to the merchants of New York at Belmont 
 Mansion, in Fairmount Park, on the occasion of their visit 
 of inspection of the preparations for the Centennial Ex- 
 hibition, the Hon. Morton McMichael being in the chair. 
 John AVelsh, Esq., introduced as the '' father of the Ex- 
 hibition," spoke, as did also Messrs. McMichael, "William 
 E. Dodge, S. B. Chittenden, Henry A. Brown, and Erastus 
 Brooks. The playful opening of Mr. Brown's speech put 
 the assembly in excellent good humor : 
 
 '•Mr. Chairman, — If anything could increase the natural embar- 
 rassment Avhich I feel on being thus called out it would 2)erhnps be 
 the reflection that my friend, Mr. McMichael, has introduced me in 
 terms which I cannot hope to justify. And more than that, he has 
 assigned no good reason for having called upon me. I find myself 
 on this, as I have been on other occasions, somewhat in doubt about 
 my identity. I do not think, frankl}^ that that is altogether due to 
 the fact that the name which I have inherited from my fathers is far 
 less of a designation than most other names. I do not know exactly 
 to-day whom or what I represent. I had the honor once on a very 
 solemn occasion to appear to some of my audience in the character 
 of the lion. Morton McMichael, many times mayor of Philadelphia. 
 And every now and then I have the privilege of addressing in the 
 country audiences of my felloAV-citizens, who cling persistently to 
 the belief that I am the late eminent David Paul Brown. Under 
 these circumstances, sir, do you wonder that I am in doubt about 
 myself? Is it surprising that I remind myself of the story of the 
 Dutchman who went down to the hospital after Gettysburg to find 
 his son ? ' Dere vas many tents,' he said, ' mit voundets, und I feels 
 
100 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 very bad. I say " Vare is mine sohn?"' und dey say " In de bed at 
 de ent of dc tent." I goes to de ent of de tent und der vas voundets 
 all around ; und some he got no legs und some he got no arms und 
 some he got no heads, — dere vas all kinds of voundets. I go to de 
 bed und I say "John," und he say *' Vas." Und I say " Stood up," 
 und he say "I can't stood up because mine legs is shoot avay !" 
 Und I say "Come home! come home!" und he say "I can't come 
 home because mine legs is shoot avay !" Den I sit on de l)ed, und 
 I say " Sit up !" und he sit up, und I put my arms around his neck 
 und he put his arms around my neck, und I begin to cry und he 
 begin to cry, und I looked into his face, — und it vasn't him !' Gen- 
 tlemen, if you hope for one-half of the things INIr. McMichael's in- 
 troduction may have led you to expect put your arms around my 
 neck and look me in the face: I tell you I am not the man." 
 
 We cannot now realize the enormous labor and anxiety, 
 the uncertainties, hopes and fears, which accompanied the 
 organization and the carrying out to a successful termination 
 of the whole gigantic Centennial enterprise. Some few did 
 the work, and some few inspired the enthusiasm to do it. 
 Mr. Brown did both, and his hand, his purse, his voice, 
 were never lacking. He had the pride of a Philadelphian 
 in it, and, as his speeches always show, he had the principle 
 of love of country, seeing in this peculiar time as hardly 
 no other man seemed to see it, the golden oj)portunity to 
 renew patriotic ideals, to lead back the people to original 
 sources of national life and honor. 
 
 These were troublous times in the Union League. This 
 noble association, which did such admirable service during 
 the period of the civil Avar, was suffering from an inter- 
 necine war. Its " committee of sixty-two," as it was called, 
 which had in April, 1874, been appointed and endowed 
 with plenary powers, had by its action awakened the sus- 
 picion of some of its Republican members upon the ground 
 of party measures. Acting under the authority of resolu- 
 
ON THE NOMINATION OF GOV. N ARTE AN FT. IQl 
 
 tions passed by tlie Union League itself, and especially 
 under the direction, "TJiat the influence and support of the 
 Union League and its members should and will be given 
 only to candidates of unexceptionable character," on grounds 
 of public welfare and pure Republican principles, the com- 
 mittee had lent their influence to the Reform party in the 
 election of city magistrates and other measures of the Muni- 
 cipal Reform Association, for which action they were called 
 to task in a special meeting held October 14, 1875. This 
 was a most acrimonious and violent meeting, very nearly 
 breaking up in a disorderly scene, in which confusion, how- 
 ever, Mr. Brown made his voice heard in firm opposition to 
 the preceding motion that dodged the question, holding the 
 convention to a decision upon the action of the committee 
 of sixty-two. 
 
 Soon after this a large Republican mass-meeting took 
 place (October 29) in Horticultural Hall, for the purpose 
 of conferring upon political questions of the hour, and es- 
 pecially the nomination of General Hartranft for governor 
 of Pennsylvania. The two speakers were ex-Governor 
 Edward F. Noyes and INIr. Brown. The remarks of the 
 last-named orator, who came out squarely upon the Repub- 
 lican platform, were commented upon by one of the leading 
 papers of Philadelphia in these terms : 
 
 " The speech of Henry Armitt Brown on Friday even- 
 ing, advocating the election of Governor Hartranft as the 
 representative of hard money principles, was the finest po- 
 litical argument of the camj^aign, and it is likely will have 
 a large influence with those who, while they deplore the 
 follies of the recent Republican administrations, fear to 
 trust their future to a party which, at the same time that it 
 clamors for honest government, incorporates dishonest prin- 
 ciples in its platform. Mr. Brown has been the ablest as 
 
102 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 well as the most conscientious of our reformers, and his 
 action has, therefore, a special*significance." 
 
 A touch of character must not be lost, for it is refreshing 
 in these jnishing times to find a modest man. The modern 
 Diogenes ought to have another pane to his lantern. A 
 letter had been addressed to Mr. Brown urgently request- 
 ing him to add his picture to the portraits of " a hundred 
 representative men of Philadelphia" in the way of a memo- 
 rial. This reply was among his papers : 
 
 " November 9, 1875. 
 " Gentlemen, — I have received your kind communication informing 
 me of your purpose to prepare for exhibition next year a collection 
 of portraits to be entitled 'One hundred representative men of 
 Philadelphia,' and asking me to sit for mine. I appreciate the honor, 
 but cannot believe that I have been able to do anything which en- 
 titles me to a place in such distinguished company, and, as your 
 number of subjects is necessarily limited, I ought to make way for 
 some Avorthier person. 
 
 " You have already honored me beyond my deserts by including 
 my name among those from which your list was drawn. 
 
 "I am, gentlemen, very truly j-ours, 
 
 " II. A. Brown." 
 
 The record of the years 1874 and 1875 would not be 
 complete without copious extracts from a "journal" or 
 "note-book" of Mr. Brown's, which seems to have been 
 kept during these years only, and which, it is to be re- 
 gretted, was not longer continued. Sketches of interviews 
 with the great lawyer, the venerable Horace Binney, form 
 the main subject. 
 
 '■'• December 2)0.1 1874. — Met Mr. Carey by appointment and went 
 with him to see Mr. Binney. Instead of going to the front door and 
 ringing the bell, as I expected, Mr. Carey entered the little entrance, 
 and, reaching the inner door, knocked sharply twice. A slight 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 103 
 
 noise, succeeded by unboltiTig' and unbarring, followed, and the door 
 was opened. Mr. Binney hi in self, stood before us. He seemed about 
 the middle height. On his head he wore a black skull-cap, as if to 
 conceal his baldness. A large folio lay open on the table, and his 
 spectacles lying beside it showed what he had been doing. Greeting 
 Mr. Carey pleasantly, and shaking me by the hand when introduced, 
 he asked me to sit down, and, having taken up the big folio, walked 
 over to the end of the room and placed it carefully on the lower 
 shelf, — then, returning, took a chair fiicing and between us. After a 
 few general words, Mr. Carey spoke of the near approach of his ninety- 
 fifth birthday. ' Yes,' said the old man, ' I shall be ninety-five in a 
 few days. I don't know how it is that I have lived so long. It has 
 stolen on me unawares. Up at Cambridge they want to make a 
 great deal of it, but I tell them they shan't. I tell them they shan't 
 (repeating it). Survivorship is tiie meanest thing in the world. 
 When I Avas at the bar I never could make anything out of a case 
 that had nothing but that to recommend it. In my case, the fact is, 
 — as I tell them at Harvard, — I have happened to outlive — not every- 
 body, thank God ! — but a great many dead people.' Mr. Carey pres- 
 ently began on the Reciprocity treaty. Mr. Binney heard him for 
 only a moment. 'Come,' he said, 'now I want to talk to Mr. 
 Brown ; ' and, moving his chair near me, he asked something about 
 my living in England. I told him that I was a Philadelphian. 
 Another question followed, which led me to say that I was a mem- 
 ber of the bar. Suddenly his face lighted up. ' Oh, now I know 
 you,' he said. '1 thought Mr. Carey said something about your 
 being a stranger. I have read some speeches of yours. I knew 
 your father well,' — and so on for some minutes. When we had 
 been seated about a quarter of an hour, there was a pause, when he 
 drew out his watch, and, in a very courtly tone, said, ' You must 
 excuse me to-day; I have an engagement to drive with a lady. 
 The next time come earlier ;' and, turning to me, ' I shall be glad to 
 see you soon again. I will let you into the secret way of getting 
 in. Did you notice the way in which Mr. Carey knocked? (knock- 
 ing with his knuckles, as he spoke, on the table). Well, come to 
 the side door and give that knock, and if I'm hei-e I'll let you in. 
 That was the old Phi Beta Kappa knock we used to have in Cam- 
 bridge in "93. Come al)out ten o'clock in the morning,' Witli a few 
 words like these he ushered us out in the most lordly manner. I 
 
104 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 have never seen an old man who seemed so much the master of his 
 faculties. I had imagined him much feebler and more broken. In 
 repose his face looks old, but when animated, in conversation, not 
 remarkably so. His teeth, however, are gone. I shall call soon 
 again. 
 
 " February 10, 1875. — Peyton told me in the cars this morning 
 several interesting anecdotes of Mr. Clay. Manner, he said, was 
 everything with him. lie related an incident of his power which, 
 he said, he himself witnessed. Some unfortunate gentleman, while 
 sitting at table in a hotel in Kentucky, happened to look around 
 sharply at a drunken scion of the first fomilies who came staggering 
 into the dining-room. The latter at once shot him dead. Clay de- 
 fended the murderer, and, in the course of his speech, declared that 
 the insults which could be conveyed by a look were sometimes more 
 terrible than either words or a blow, accompanying this with an 
 expression of face so insulting that the jury winced at it and soon 
 afterwards acquitted his client, Peyton believes, simply on account 
 of the impression this conveyed. 
 
 " On my arrival at the office I took advantage of the hour, and 
 the fact that nothing pressed, to call again on Mr. Binney. On 
 knocking with two raps at his office-door it Avas opened, and, to my 
 surprise, he recognized me at once. lie wore as usual his velvet 
 cap, which hides the top of his forehead. lie drew a chair before 
 the fire and bade me do the same. A glance at the table showed 
 me that he had been reading John Quincy Adams's Memoirs. I 
 began to speak of them, when he started off at once. 'Adams,' he 
 said, ' was in Congress with him in "33 and '35, — an admiraljlc man, 
 — I confess I have never quite made up my mind on the question of 
 the bargain charged as made between him and Mr. Clay, though I 
 think the friends of both parties must have had an understanding.' 
 He contrasted — with some degree of earnestness — Adams's refusal to 
 appoint a relative to office, even at the request of the President, with 
 the practice of great men of to-day. He spoke of the change for the 
 worse in public men, — mentally and morally. 'When I was in Con- 
 gress there were many men of ability and honor in public life, but 
 the bad ones were getting the ascendency very rapidly, and it has 
 been growing worse ever since.' I said I thought that General 
 Jackson had done much to debase politics. 'Yes,' he replied, ' un- 
 doubtedly.' To my question whether he knew the general (which 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 105 
 
 was a very foolish one to make) he answered, 'Oh, yes; did you 
 ever see him?' I replied, quickly, ' Oh, no, sir, he died before I was 
 born ;' and was sorry I had made the remark, for a shadow passed 
 over the old man's f\ice as he seemed to be i-eminded of the difference 
 of sixty years l)etween us, and said, half to himself, ' Very likely, 
 very likely.' He then went on to tell me with much animation that 
 the day after he closed a two or three days' speech against the re- 
 moval of the deposits, he received an invitation to dine at the Presi- 
 dent's. ' Of course I went. lie put me on his right hand at the 
 table, and kept me by him all the evening ; he told me much about 
 his personal history. His early education had been very defective, — 
 he had to ride a long way to school and take his dinner with him, — 
 and the teaching was of the rudest kind. I was curious to know 
 Avhy he paid me these especial attentions. I learned that he had 
 sent his nephew, Donelson, down to the House to hear my speech, 
 and report to him. When he went back the general said, " Well, 
 what does he say?" "He is pretty hard on you," said Donelson, 
 " and pitches into you severely ; but it's the speech of a gentleman ; 
 he treats you like a gentleman." And so the old man at once invited 
 me to dinner.' Mr. Binney told the story with evident pleasure. 
 ' Clay,' he said, ' was a delightful man to talk with and hear speak. 
 He had a fine voice and manner, but his speeches did not read well. 
 Webster, on the other hand, sounded sometimes dull, but the next 
 day what he had said seemed excellent in print. He had extraordi- 
 nary power. I have heard him sometimes when he seemed to lift 
 me up to my tiptoes. He was not a great lawyer. He had not 
 thorough training or deep learning, but in the argument of consti- 
 tutional questions he had no superior.' I spoke of the Girard will 
 case as one in which he had not sustained his reputation. ' He had 
 the law against him,' was the reply ; ' and, besides that, he didn't 
 understand the law in that case. Had he done so he would have 
 been in a far worse position than he was.' But in the Dartmouth 
 College case, — 'Ah, there he had the law with him.' I spoke of 
 Webster as being the best model among American authors, though 
 not to be mentioned with Burke. The latter's range Avas so much 
 greater, etc. We talked of this a little and then of Webster's char- 
 acter, but he came back to him as a lawyer. ' In constitutional 
 questions,' he repeated, ' he was unequalled. I have always said 
 that he was superior even to C. J. Marshall, and you know I heard 
 
106 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 his speech in the Jonathan Robbins case when I was a law 
 student.' Indeed, I said, at Sixth and Chestnut, in March, 1800! 
 ' Marshall and Webster,' he went on, ' were, of course, very different. 
 The former seemed to make link after link, until he had joined two 
 points with a perfect chain. His logic was wonderful. But Web- 
 ster seemed to strike a successioa of ponderous blows. He bore 
 down everythino; before him by his weight.' I spoke of Everett. 'A 
 very remarkable man,' Mr. Binney said. ' Ilis industry was ex- 
 traordinary. He sat next me in Congress. One day he called at 
 my lodgings and asked me if he might read to me a report which 
 he had prepared on a question which was purely legal. I have for- 
 gotten the subject, but I remember that it involved several difficult 
 points of law. It took him three-quarters of an hour to read, and 
 when he had done I told him that I had no comment to make ; that 
 he had correctly stated the law and quoted the authorities, and that 
 I had no comment to make upon his labors. And yet he was a man 
 who had never studied law.' In illustration of a remark called 
 forth by something I said about party discipline and the narrowness 
 of party spirit, the old man then told me, as he said, 'a remarkable 
 circumstance.' ' When Tom Benton brought in his bill to debase 
 the gold coin to keep it from flowing to Europe, and supported an 
 elaborate scheme based upon that idea, I examined the matter with 
 some care, and was clear that it violated some truths of history and 
 finance, but I hardly expected to speak, until J. Q. Adams came to 
 my seat one day and said, '' Mr. Binney, are you not going to speak 
 on this subject?" I replied that I thought speaking would do no 
 good, but the next day, I think it was, I took the floor. The House 
 was not more than a third full at the time, but they listened to 
 me with great attention in a speech of perhaps an hour and a half. 
 AVhen I had done a gentleman took the floor to speak on the same 
 side. The House suddenly filled as if by magic. Every member 
 was soon in his seat, when they commenced such coughing and 
 scraping of feet that the nienil)er could not go on. Then they called 
 for a vote, and passed the measure without a pause. Here was an 
 organic conspiracy to carry through this party measure without 
 reference to argument or the honor of the country. It made an im- 
 pression on me at the time, and showed how thorough party train- 
 ing had even then become.' Further talk about Mr. Webster led 
 Mr. Binney to speak of Jeremiah Mason, 'one of the greatest law- 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE- BOOK. 107 
 
 yei's and greatest men this country has produced.' ' He was a giant 
 in size, and, by the way, the chief justice of Massachusetts was here 
 to see me the other day, — an enormous man, too ; nearly as tall as 
 Mr. Mason, — Mr. Gray.' He asked me if I had read his (Mason's) 
 Memoir and Correspondence, prepared by Mr. Hillard, of Boston. I 
 had not. With that the old gentlenmn rose and searched for a 
 moment in one of his bookcases, but could not find the volume, 
 giving it up at length with the remark that his daughter arranged 
 his books when they got in disorder, and that he would send it to 
 me. lie asked me if I had received an invitation to go to the cele- 
 bration which they are to have at Lexington on the one hundredth 
 anniversary of the fight. I answered that I had, and hoped to go. 
 ' I am too old for such journeys now,' he said. 'At ninety-five and 
 over I cannot go so far from home. I don't know how it is that I 
 have lived so long. It has stolen upon me unawares.' lie then 
 told me of his passing a year — from 1792 to 1793 — at a place now 
 called West Cambridge, waiting to grow old enough to enter college. 
 There was a pond there called Menotomy. Years afterwards he 
 went with Mrs. Binney, who wanted to see the place, but couldn't 
 find it. More than forty years after his residence there he tried 
 again, and, driving out from Boston, found that he could direct the 
 coachman how to go, and at last found 'Menotomy Pond.' But it 
 was then called ' Spy Pond,' and he could find no man, woman, or 
 child who had ever heard the old Indian name which he had spoken 
 and heard a hundred thousand times.* ' Tell them this story, and 
 say that they do wrong to change the names of their towns and 
 villages. The Indian names are beautiful and ought to be pre- 
 served.' I mentioned the wicked change in the Adirondack Moun- 
 tains, of the tallest peak from ' Tahawus,' ' cloud-splitter,' to ' Mount 
 Marcy.' The old man laughed and said, ' The Secretary was not 
 much of a cloud-splitter.' After more than an hour's talk I took 
 my leave. The interview was most interesting in every respect. 
 There is nothing to indicate great age in Mr. Binney but the loss 
 of teeth, which often makes his words a little indistinct. lie is 
 
 ® This is like the story which is told of another great lawyer, Alexander 
 Wedderburn, who was Lord Chancellor of England in 1793. When an old 
 man be went to Edinburgh for the purpose of visiting " Mint Close," where 
 he used "to play at the bools" as a boy, and to see if it was still just as he 
 left it sixty years before. 
 
108 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 neither blind nor deaf, and every faculty seems unimpaired. lie 
 stoops considerably, but his eye — a deep blue — is still bright, and 
 does not look like that of a man of sixty. In everything he says 
 you notice the man of puvi^er. His language is always cori-ect and 
 beautiful. 
 
 '■'February 19, 1875. — I talked with Dr. Allibone at some length. 
 He thinks very highly of Everett, and also of Webster, but denounces, 
 with perhaps justifiable warmth, the attempts to compare the latter 
 with Burke. Dr. Allibone said some very kind things of my speeches 
 which were gratifying, but ought not to be written down, at least 
 by me. I can hardly bring myself to believe them : I am certain it 
 would not be honest to have them even set down. 
 
 ^' March (j, 1875. — At the 'Junior Legal Club' this evening. Judge 
 
 and were talking of the timidity and nervousness which 
 
 men feel in court. said, to the judge's evident surprise, that 
 
 he had never quite recovered from the feeling. agreed with us 
 
 that it was a matter of temperament. Another of the company quoted 
 to me a remark which I made at the meeting at the Penn Monthly 
 room on Thursday, in my first speech. I was speaking of the pro- 
 posed club and of that scheme for a ' Century Club' which and 
 
 Dr. had in charge. The danger, I said, is that they start 
 
 at the wrong end. They have too elaborate ideas, and make the great 
 mistake of trying to make the Century plant bloom at the begin- 
 ning instead of at the end of a hundred years. As he recalled it I 
 remember how much it seemed to strike the men as I let it fall, for 
 that, after all, is the danger we generally encounter, and nearly always 
 with fatal results, in the formation of tiiese clubs. Men are not con- 
 tent to wait, while such things should always be in great measure a 
 growth. I think that the * Penn Club' will succeed because it will 
 start modestly, and money will be out of the question. I doubt the 
 success of the ' Social Art,' as I did that of the now defunct ' iEsthe- 
 
 tic' Some one recalled to my mind 's joke about the new House 
 
 of Correction. He was passing in the cars the huge building, when 
 a man near liim asked, ' Is that a distillery ?' ' Oh, no,' was the an- 
 swer, ' It's a rectifying establishment.' 
 
 ^^ March 7, 1875. — Went to the Continental to-day at one o'clock, 
 though it was snowing heavily, and passed an hour or more with 
 . He talked very freely and as strongly as I have talked, hav- 
 ing apparently come entirely around to my way of thinking. He 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 109 
 
 said that the Repul^Iicans Avould undoubtedly renominate Ilartranft, 
 perhaps unanimously. I said that his administration had, on the 
 whole, been satisfactory. He didn't think that anythinfj could be 
 done, and added that Ave must all sit down and wait. ' Your posi- 
 tion,' he said, 'is perfectly understood, and couldn't be better. I 
 shall make my independence known. I thought last winter, in the 
 McClure fight, that you were wrong, but I think now you did just 
 right. Your course has been consistent and bold ; all you have to 
 do is to keep quiet. But I will take an opportunity to speak or write 
 about these tests, that are not tests of Republicanism, that will leave 
 no doubt about my views with regard to them.' I rememliered as 
 he said this our former conversations, when he thought that I was 
 all wrong and going astray, and the letter he wrote last winter to 
 
 urging him to save me from perdition, — that perdition which he 
 
 sees now is the way to security and a strong position. was 
 
 the first to come over to me, now . Both of them two years 
 
 and less ago the strongest administration men. As I said to , I 
 
 feel and think as I did two years ago, and men like me are strength- 
 ening in our independence every day, while men like you are weak- 
 ening daily in your party loyalty. I think, perhaps, that he is right, 
 and that nothing can be done this fall to better things, — because the 
 men who could are timid, or half convinced, or doubtful of their 
 strength. But the change will surely come. 
 
 " March 15, 1875. — J. , of Kentucky, lectured at the 
 
 Academy to-night. Pugh sent me a stage-ticket, and I found a seat 
 between Richard Vaux and Samuel Dickson. The lecture was in 
 many respects better than I had expected, being full of satirical points 
 and many fine passages. has the common fault of the West- 
 ern speaker, of dropping his voice at the close of a sentence. The 
 majority of the best things were thus lost to the audience and fell 
 flat. He said that men were holding high and responsible positions 
 who were no better able to discharge their duties ' than a gorilla 
 would be to vindicate his race from the Darwinian theory.' After 
 the lecture we sat down, to the number of twenty-five or thirty, to 
 supper at the Reform Club. is quiet, genial, and apprecia- 
 tive. Story-telling and good things kept us all amused until twelve, 
 or nearly that, when, to my disgust, speech-making was begun. We 
 all had to speak in tui-n, and one or two did not see the necessity of 
 doing their part conversationally. in particular was oratorical 
 
110 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 to a degree which, in a small company, is trying enough. was 
 
 amusing and mimicked others, to 's evident delight. 
 
 ^^ March 16, 1875. — Dined with . We had much talk of a 
 
 political turn. believes that Grant will secure the Republican 
 
 nomination without a doubt. lie thinks that Kerr, of Indiana, 
 would be the candidate for the Democrats. He told us many good 
 stories, especially of the South-Western politicians, many of which, 
 
 though rough, I enjoyed greatly. Walked home with him and . 
 
 I like , who strikes me as a kindly-tempered man and one of 
 
 culture. He told an amusing story of General , a local celebrity 
 
 in his State. The general was running for office, and his opponents 
 
 determined to beat him. Among others they engaged Mr. W , 
 
 a lawyer and famous orator, to speak against him. W made a 
 
 great speech before an immense audience, and when he sat down 
 the general saw that unless something was done at once to counter- 
 act its effects his fate was sealed. He rose slowly, and said, ' My 
 friends, you know me well. You have known me long. I have 
 lived here right among you ever since I was a boy. It may be I 
 have many failings, and you know 'em all. Everything that this 
 gentleman has said of me may be true, and if you choose to believe 
 him you must think tolerable mean of me. But this, I say, my 
 fellow-citizens, I never done, — I never embezzled my client's money ; 
 I never forged a check for sixty-four dollars and seventy-two cents; 
 
 I never ruined my friend's sister.' Up jumped W in a fury. 
 
 * Sit down, sir!' said the general. 'I say again, my fellow-citizens, 
 I never embezzled my client's money ; I never forged a check for 
 sixty-four dollars and seventy-two cents ; I never ruined my friend's 
 sister.' ' Do you mean to accuse me of these crimes ?' broke in 
 
 W again, beside himself with rage. ' I say,' went on the old 
 
 general, and he repeated the thi-ee offences with great deliberation, 
 ' that I never do7ie them things .'' The meeting broke up in the 
 
 midst of great excitement. A challenge from W was at once 
 
 accepted by the general ; but, of course, the duel could not take place 
 till after the election. The general was triumphantly returned, and 
 
 then sent a humble apology to W for his 'mistake,' and was 
 
 never weary of protesting that if he could only lay his hands on the 
 ' feller' who told him ' them lies,' he would flay him alive. 
 
 ^'^ April 30, 1875. — Samuel HoUingswortli entertained the 'Junior 
 Legal Club.' Had a very pleasant talk with Judge Mitchell and 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE BOOK. HI 
 
 David AV. Sellers. The latter told of his remembrances of J. R. 
 Ingersoll and others of the old bar, of the courtesy, dignity, and 
 attention to det.ails of the leaders. 
 
 '■'June 7, 1875. — Called this morning on Mr. Binney. lie was in 
 his back office, the window of the front one, and indeed of the 
 whole house, being closed tightly, because, as he said, 'they w-ere 
 putting in coal.' The back office is a large, pleasant room, with 
 straw matting on the floor, and two large windows opening out 
 upon a broad garden full of trees and flowers. Mr. Binney wore 
 his little cap, as usual, and seemed to me at first rather feeble for 
 him, or, to speak more correctly, less vigorous than usual. He had 
 been reading the Sjiedator, and told me, with some animation, of 
 the 'extraordinary spectacle,' mentioned in the last number, of the 
 people crowding out to the Alexandra Palace during the Whitsun 
 holidays in such numbers as to make it impossible to move the rail- 
 way trains, and compelled more than twenty thousand to pass the 
 night out-of-doors. I told hira of the experiences I had had at 
 Lexington, where the crowd was so great, and of the strange scene 
 at the depot. This led him to speak to me again of the year he spent 
 in that neighborhood, at West Cambridge, or Menotomy. I turned 
 the subject presently upon Mr. Adams's Memoirs, the sixth volume 
 of which he had just commenced, and remarked that I thought it 
 strange that so able and learned a man as Mr. Adams, living in the 
 period in which he filled so large a place, had taken no part in the 
 discussion of the great constitutional questions which arose. lie 
 seemed to have contributed nothing to constitutional law. Mr. 
 Binney replied that 'the reason was that Mr. Adams did not take 
 naturally to legal questions, and was not a Avell-read lawyer. He 
 practised a little in Boston, but not much, and he did not feel much 
 interest in, or enthusiasm for, the law. But he had a natural gift 
 for politics and government, and they had the wisdom in Massa- 
 chusetts to perceive this political capacity very early, and to send 
 him to the Senate. lie acquired in time a thorough knowledge of 
 European and American aflfalrs, and in some things he was the 
 fullest-minded man I ever knew. But he was no lawyer. When 
 Mr. Cheves was president of the bank (of the United States), the 
 question arose as to the duty of the bank to redeem the notes of 
 various States in government notes at Philadelphia, and Mr. Ciieves, 
 who was not much of a banker and stayed here but a short time, — 
 
112 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 but a very estimable gentleman, — came to me for an opinion. I 
 gave him one, and said that the bank had to do it, and pointed out 
 that the arrangement as made by General Hamilton was one mutu- 
 ally advantageous for the bank and for the government. He was 
 not satisfied, and Mr. Adams insisted that the opposite view must 
 be correct. Together they got an opinion from Mr. Pinckney, in 
 which he agreed with me. I think they got six opinions and all 
 the same way. Even then Mr. Adams said he supposed it must be 
 the law, as it was so stated by gentlemen, — about whom he made 
 some complimentary remark, — but he couldn't be satisfied. I re- 
 member, too, another instance of his stubbornness. Mr. , whom 
 
 you don't remember, was a China merchant. He imported immense 
 quantities of tea, and under the bonding law as then existing he 
 had it placed in the storehouses, and whenever he pleased he could 
 take out as much as was necessary and bond it. Well, he made an 
 arrangement with the keeper of the storehouses, and took out great 
 quantities without putting it in bond at all ; for then, too, as has 
 been more frequently the case in later years, it was a question of 
 "who should watch the keeper." Of course this was all discovei-ed. 
 He had borrowed largely in New York, and given as security the 
 bills of lading, etc., of cargoes that were coming to this port. Mr. 
 Adams had the ships libelled at once on arrival here as property, 
 and I was engaged ])y the insurance companies, the holders of the 
 bills of lading. The law was clear, of course, but Mr. Adams in- 
 sisted on his view, and sent Mr. Wirt up to fight me. I did not 
 mind Mr. Wirt much, because I had the law with me; but he made 
 a fine argument, and I won the case. So little did Mr. Adams know 
 of commercial law that he insisted on taking the case up to the 
 Supreme Court. I argued it there against Mr. Wirt again, and, 
 nemini contradicienfe, the court held in my favor. So the govern- 
 ment was put to all that expense by Mr. Adams's obstinacy and 
 ignorance of the law.' Mr. Binney then told me of the suit which 
 
 he conducted as the counsel of against for slander. 
 
 had alleged that , as consul at St. Petersburg, had knowingly 
 
 admitted English goods as American. Mr. Binney was opposed to 
 J. R. Ingersoll. and John Quincy Adams was a witness. 'I sus- 
 pected,' he said, ' that he had prepared himself the questions that 
 were to be put to him, and I asked him this question directly on 
 cross-examination, and he could not deny it.' 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. US 
 
 "lie then spoke of the Memoirs again, and said 'no one could 
 read the opinion which Mr. Adams set down in his journal of Mr. 
 Clay, and then notice the latter's appointment as Secretary of State 
 and the silence about it, without the conviction that there had been 
 a compromise, — not by Mr. Adams, but arranged and managed by 
 his friends. Again,' said he, 'Adams was in some things a narrow 
 man and an unforgiving. He was honest always, but full of preju- 
 dices.' I asked Mr. Binney if he had known Mr. Pinckney. He 
 answered, never ; he had never seen him. But he was a man of 
 great power, undoubtedly. He then went on and told me of a case 
 in which Mr. Pinckney had defended a ship that was brought in as 
 a prize, — the first case of the kind, and the principles of maritime 
 and prize law were new to us then and the questions that arose 
 unsettled. I won the case here, and it went to Washington. I won 
 it also, I remember, at the Circuit Court before Judge Bushrod 
 Washington. For some reason I did not go to argue it in the 
 Supreme Court; I don't remember why. Mr. Pinckney was en- 
 gaged on the other side and made a great argument, and she was 
 condemned. Judge Washington dissented, but gave no opinion; 
 but he spoke to me afterwards of the matter, and said I ought to 
 have gone down, that Mr. Pinckney's argument had carried the 
 court.' He (Mr. Binney) alluded to the stories about Pinckney's 
 affectations of dress and manner. ' I believe he was a good deal of 
 a coxcomb.' We then talked of the old bar, and he spoke of Tilgh- 
 man, Lewis, and the elder IngersoU. ' The first,' said he, ' was an 
 accomplished, thorough lawyer, — a remarkable man. The second, 
 Lewis, a great rough man, with a rough education, who became 
 finally a thoroughly educated man by his own exertions. In the 
 higher capital cases he was very powerful. Mr. IngersoU was in 
 some things the most singular man I ever knew. When unexcited 
 his mind was slow to work, and if left to himself he would work 
 out his arguments very imperfectly, and often made mistakes, appa- 
 rently showing much less knowledge of the law than he possessed ; 
 but in the excitement of a trial or argument, when once aroused, 
 his mind was keen and powerful, and his knowledge seemed to come 
 out. His mind was like a sensitive paper written over with a 
 chemical preparation that required to be heated before the char- 
 acters would come out clearly.' The old gentleman continued to 
 talk most delightfully of the leaders of the old bar. I spoke of Mr. 
 
114 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Sergeant. 'Ah,' he said, 'he was a good fellow. The tronVile with 
 him was that he wouldn't prepare himself properly. But he had 
 great readiness, and while he spoke thought out his case. He 
 would ravel out his adversary's case and knit up his own while he 
 was speaking.' I spoke of the change in the bar and the want of 
 ambition among its members to become accomplished lawyers in 
 the highest sense. I said I knew of but few men of my time who 
 seemed to me to have a very high ambition. Mr. Binney continued : 
 ' I am so much retired, and see so little of the world in my privacy 
 here, that there are many things which I do not see in which I 
 would take interest. Doubtless you are right, and the bar has 
 degenerated. All that I have seen and heard confirms your opinion. 
 But you must remember that the times have changed, for Phila- 
 delphia, up to 1806 and even much later, Avas the commercial 
 metropolis of the country. All the underwriting was done here ; 
 the great cases arose here or came here for settlement. It is not so 
 now. We have necessarily grown provincial ; and with the decline 
 in the relative importance of the cases which it tries, the bar has 
 fallen off. But,' he went on with much animation, ' remember that 
 the more commonplace the bar, the better is the chance for a1)ility 
 and industry ; for there is always work enough in Philadelphia, 
 and important work too. If the general run of lawyers do not 
 strive for the first places there must be all the more room in the 
 front rank. Cherish an honorable ambition. Be strict in attending 
 to your business. Prepare yourself with care. Be industrious and 
 study hard, and resolve, no matter what the temptation may be, 
 never to do an unworthy action or take a mean advantage, and by 
 all means' — here he leaned forward and placed his hand upon my 
 knee — ' cultivate your talent for public speaking ; then, take my 
 word for it, the reward will come.' Continuing in this strain, he 
 spoke next of the changes in the condition and prestige of the 
 bench. ' To think that there should be chief justices of Pennsyl- 
 vania by the score ! But we mustn't slander any one ; there are some 
 excellent gentlemen among them.' I asked him 'if he did not 
 attribute the decadence of the judiciary to the elective system?' He 
 said, 'No; I don't think that to return to the appointive system 
 would entirely cure the trouble. Governors are partisans and are 
 apt to appoint partisans, and, on the whole, I think the people may 
 be trusted to choose men as fit as those whom governors would 
 
EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 115 
 
 select; but the office should be helel for life during good behavior, — - 
 that would make the incuuil)ent independent of all political influence 
 for a re-election. When tlie late convention met I urged these views 
 upon several gentlemen without avail. But to make our judges 
 dependent every few years on the favor or fancy of political con- 
 ventions is all wrong. Too much cannot be said against it.' After 
 a two hours' interview I rose to go. lie shook me very warmly by 
 the hand and said I must come again soon. I said I might go to 
 Europe, and in that case would call again before the end of June. 
 With this I took my leave. The impressions made on me by pre- 
 vious interviews were deepened by this. It seems quite impossible, 
 as you hear Mr. Binney talk and watch the changing expression of 
 his intellectual face, that he is within five years of being a hundred 
 years old. His voice is not weak, and were it not for the loss of 
 teeth would not sound like that of a very aged man. His eye is 
 bright. When I came in and he saw me, it kindled with a pleasant 
 light of recognition as many a much younger man's might not have 
 done, no matter how friendly his feelings to me. He is not deaf. 
 The instant I knocked at the door I heard his prompt 'come in.' 
 He stoops very much, but it is rather the stoop of a scholarly habit 
 than of age. The most remarkable thing about him is his conver- 
 sational power, — if I pass by the extraordinary memory which shows 
 itself in all he says, — for he remembers everything (even the name, 
 to-day, of the vessel which he defended, — the first prize brought in 
 in the war of 1812, and which I have forgotten already). In what 
 I have written of his conversation I have tried to recall his words, 
 but I have been able to do so very imperfectly. He reminded me 
 all the time when he spoke of what Chesterfield says of Bolingbroke, 
 that his eloquence was of so pure and fine a character that were his 
 ordinary and familiar talk taken down as it fell from his lips it 
 might have been printed without correction either as to method or 
 style. It is without question the purest, smootliest, most dignified, 
 and elegant conversation I have ever heard. May I hear more of it 
 next fall and winter !" 
 
 Mr. Brown's political opinions were not held, as has been 
 hinted, witliout the sacrifice of other things. As an illus- 
 tration of this remark, after conducting for three years an 
 
116 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 editorial department in the Penn llonthly Ilagazlne, he re- 
 signed from political differences. So great, however, was 
 the desire to retain him on the staif that several times his 
 articles M^ere published through the other editors generously 
 waiving their right of control, because, in the language of 
 one of them to him, " You felt sure that you were right." 
 It Avas finally on the Bristow question that the split was 
 made. 
 
 In the month of March, 1876, Mr. Brown sent to the 
 Neiv York Tribune the following letter, which indicates his 
 feelings in regard to public affairs at that time : 
 
 " To THE Editor of The Tribune. 
 
 " Sir, — The fall of Mr. Belknap has precipitated a crisis. Men 
 knew before that public affairs were corrupt from low places up to 
 high, but this event has convinced even those who hated to believe, 
 and brought the thing in all its ghastliness before their eyes. It has 
 stirred this country as nothing has done since the death of Lincoln". 
 * We must be rid of politicians,' is the cry which goes up on all sides, 
 as if we could dispense with politicians in a government like this. 
 The fault lies, indeed, directly at the door of that class of men, but 
 it is not wholly theirs. A large share of it belongs to those who are 
 the first to impute it to the politician. Nothing can be more unjust 
 than to brand Avith obloquy a class of men and set them apart for 
 scorn because of the sins of a portion, however large that number. 
 And nothing, surely, is more fatal under institutions like ours than 
 this disposition, to-day, to stamp office-holders with distrust and 
 frighten out of the public service all who are best fitted to discharge 
 its duties. IIow can we improve the condition of our affiiirs if, be- 
 cause many men in place are unworthy, we make the very act of 
 holding office, in advance, dishonorable? The politicians, it is true, 
 are in the main to blame for this unhealthy sentiment, but the people 
 themselves have suffered to grow up the things from which it takes 
 its rise. Nowhere in the world is politics so plain a duty as in the 
 United States ; nowhere else can the neglect of it breed more fatal 
 consequences. For one, I do not share the usual contempt of men 
 for the much-abused title of politician. Office-seeking may be one 
 
LETTER TO THE ''NEW YORK TRIBUNE.' 117 
 
 thing and politics another. There is no profession more honoi*- 
 able, short of the ministry of Christ, than that of politician, in its 
 truer, better sense. To devote great talents and lofty character to 
 the common good, to consecrate great powers to the State, to stand 
 up in her service unmoved alike by the fickle winds of favor or the 
 storms of adversity, to act only for the common weal, — this is indeed 
 to be a politician and a statesman ; and there can be little hope for 
 the future of America when such a career shall have ceased to be 
 possible, and such an ideal to stir the ambition of her youth. 
 
 "One cause of our present evils is not far to seek. The American 
 people are still vii'tuous and patriotic. They have shown their devo- 
 tion to both honor and their country under the severest ordeals that 
 ever tried a people. But, the war over and the Union saved, they 
 turned to their private aflairs with an eagerness born partly of ne- 
 cessity and partly of disgust Avith politics, which, in its false mean- 
 ing, they had come to think the cause of all their troubles. A few 
 wise counsellors warned them that to neglect politics utterly was 
 dangerous. ' No,' they said among themselves, ' politics is not the 
 art of governing, but of getting rich l)y plunder. We are tired of 
 faction and worn out with party strife. AVe have done our duty to 
 our country and want no personal reward. Let others take the offices 
 if they wish. We have business to attend to. Let us alone.' They 
 have now so long neglected their public affairs, or intrusted them so 
 often to selfish and unworthy hands, that there has come to be a class, 
 distinct from and even sometimes hostile to the people, with which 
 subserviency to party is the single test of merit, which holds in its 
 hands all the paths to power and commands every avenue to office, 
 dictates its own terms, issues its own decrees, sets up candidates and 
 knocks them down, with little sense either of responsibility or honor, 
 giving to those who cast the votes and pay the taxes small share in 
 shaping party or national policy, and so little voice in the selection of 
 their rulers that, in most cases, there is nothing but a choice of evils. 
 And what has been the logical result? Bad men creeping into high 
 places ; party sjjirit preferred to patriotism ; public honors the spoil of 
 faction ; political patronage the reward of dishonesty ; the glory of 
 great deeds put to the basest use ; high powers prostituted for gain : 
 great places bought and sold ; the gates of office shut to honest men ; 
 the service of the State no longer an honorable career ; confidence 
 shaken ; faith undermined ; trust betrayed ; the people plundered ; 
 
118 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 the State disgraced ; the nation dishonored ; old age disheartened ; 
 youth made corrupt; manhood put to shame. There have been ex- 
 ceptions, it is true, and they have shone all the brighter by the con- 
 trast, but such things have Ave all seen as this first century of our 
 national life draws to a close. Were they not dangerous to our- 
 selves we cannot ignore the influence of such examples on those 
 who are growing up among us. If we show them bad men in power 
 and a people apathetic, can we doubt that our children will better 
 such instruction? 
 
 "And these evils, of which all patriotic men complain, are long 
 past being corrected by party platforms, however adroit, or party 
 promises, however eloquent. For yeai's we have been fed on such 
 things, and we sufier still. No disease like ours was ever cured by 
 aggravating and perpetuating its cause. We need a radical medi- 
 cine. Nor can we hesitate to take it. When things that have long 
 been dangerous become disgraceful, honest citizens have no longer 
 any choice. Under our institutions duty goes hand in hand with 
 privilege ; we cannot shirk the one and hope always to enjoy the 
 other. The people of this country must shoulder their own burdens, 
 choose once more their own rulers, take their affairs again into their 
 own keeping, and teach the politicians that they propose to carry on 
 this government by their aid, perhaps, if they can, without it if they 
 must. They should use every honest means within their power — 
 and who can limit the means and power of an ai'oused and deter- 
 mined people? — to secure, this year at least, the purification of pub- 
 lic affairs, the faithful discharge of public duties, character and 
 brains in public place, prompt and impartial enfoi'cement of the 
 laws, economy, honesty, and ability in every department of the 
 government. To do this, or even vigorously attempt it, will indeed 
 be worthily to celebrate the Centennial year. But they can do 
 nothing without the election of a President of their own. Left to 
 themselves, the managers of both parties will set up men for the 
 people to vote for, whom the majority of neither party would select. 
 For any new organization the time has both gone by and not yet 
 come. The formation of one (formidable as it might be even at the 
 outset) l)efore the Cincinnati Convention shall finally have refused 
 to satisfy the longings of the people for better men and things, 
 would throw the prize at once into the Democratic camp, and 
 strengthen in advance the worst elements of that disti-usted party. 
 
LETTER TO THE ''NEW YORK TRIBUNE.'' HQ 
 
 "What, then, can we hope for? Tlie Republicans will not nominate 
 Mr. Adams. He repi-esents everything that is most desirable in 
 a President, — character, capacity, training, experience, traditions. 
 But men say he cannot be nominated at Cincinnati. Well, what 
 then? 
 
 "We have within the ranks a good Republican, who was faithful 
 in the darkest days under circumstances which put his courage and 
 conviction to the sharpest test. No Democrat turned Unionist, like 
 Andrew Jolinson, only to change again, but a Republican from the 
 beginning, bred from an old Whig stock. A soldier during the war, 
 active and distinguished in the field ; a lawyer who has won reputa- 
 tion and high position at the bar; a man of administrative ability 
 as well as a sagacious counsellor, who has not only opinions, but is 
 ready to enforce them, and who, while piutting his duty to his 
 country first, has been all the truer to his party, because he has re- 
 fused to let scoundrels, who have robbed the people, make use of its 
 prestige or take refuge behind its glory ; a Southerner who was 
 loyal, — a Kentuckian who fought in the Union army ; a Western 
 man, right and outspoken on the currency ; a Repuljlican official 
 Avho has been the foe of corruption and the punisher of thieves. 
 Mr. Bristow is comparatively young in years, but not in the service 
 of his country. He has been long enough in public life to show his 
 ability, his patriotism, his courage, his sense of honor, his self-re- 
 liance, his strength of will. A month ago the President feared and 
 was hostile to him ; to-day he bears the whole Administration on his 
 shoulders. When men heard that Belknap had fallen in dishonor, 
 from Grant down they turned to Bristow as the only man to trust. 
 He, at least, has had no connection with the things that have dis- 
 graced us, nor shown sympathy with those who have. Here is in- 
 deed a candidate fit for the place and time. Leaders have been 
 raised up for us before, but rarely so evidently as this man to-day. 
 But how can he be nominated? Only by that without which little 
 that is valuable has ever been accomplished, — hard work. Mr. 
 Bristow can be chosen by the organization of the sentiment in his 
 favor, now so apparent, into a force so strong without the conven- 
 tion as to cause alarm, so strong within as to command a hearing. 
 His friends must work as those of other men are working. They 
 must organize at once. They must use the party machinery to 
 secure delegates wherever possible. They must get together in 
 
120 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 city, town, and village, form clubs, open correspondence, write to 
 the newspapers, argue with the hostile, convince the doubting, teach 
 the ignorant. They must use every hour they can comm.and until 
 the 14th day of June, and then be represented well at Cincinnati, 
 outside as well as inside the convention. The majority of the 
 present leaders would prefer any man to Mr. Bristow. What ad- 
 vantage to them would be the choice of such a man? Better for 
 their purposes the election of a Democrat. They build, as usual, on 
 prejudice, and count on the mistakes of their antagonists. They 
 expect to win this time, as they have before, not because their can- 
 didate is better, but because that of their adversaries is worse. 
 Those who have so often profited by Republican partisanship and 
 Democratic blunders see no necessity for the nomination of Mr. 
 Bristow. But they will not control this next convention in the old- 
 fashioned way. The majority of delegates will not, it is true, be 
 Bristow men from choice, but they will desire victory ab(jve all 
 things, hoping, with tlie election of any Republican, to keep their 
 places undisturbed. The rumors of revolt will not have touched 
 their ears in vain, nor will their eyes be blind to signs of indepen- 
 dence. Such an organization as honest work will make all over this 
 country, in the present temper of the people, — if it will but an- 
 nounce beforehand, frankly, its determination to work for Bristow 
 with all its might, but to support no candidate below the plane on 
 which he stands, and even, if driven to the choice, to acquiesce in 
 the election of an honest Democrat rather than help that of a doubt- 
 ful Republican, — cannot fail to influence a convention composed of 
 men who desire most of all success. That is the great step in this 
 business. Convince the delegates that distrust of Democi'ats alone 
 is no longer sufficient to elect Republicans, and the fight is won. 
 
 "And what may not such a nomination do? It will bring back 
 into the ranks the best of those who have gone out since '68. It 
 will awaken enthusiasm that has not been felt since '64. It will 
 place the party on the safe and honest ground of principle. It will 
 be a guaranty for the future, and recall what is best and most hon- 
 orable in the past. It will stop dissensions, close gaps, heal wounds 
 that might be fatal. Liberals, Independents, Republicans of every 
 grade and kind, save only those whose leadership is death, will work 
 together with a will for such a candidate, and we shall at last have 
 a President who can be relied upon to crush corruption and give us 
 
FIFTH AVENUE CONFERENCE. 121 
 
 such an administration of the highest office as shall satisfy the as- 
 pirations of a free, intelligent, and patriotic people. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " Henry Armitt Brown. 
 " PniLADELpniA, March 27, 1876." 
 
 Tliis letter was the first gun of the Reform movement 
 in relation to the Presidential election. Bayard Taylor, in 
 an editorial notice of the same day, says of it : " It is a 
 most encouraging sign when a young man of talent and in- 
 creasing reputation, like Mr. Henry Armitt Brown, whose 
 communication we publish to-day, shows himself clearly 
 awake to the difficulties and duties of our present political 
 situation. He describes them with an earnestness which 
 does not obscure the impartiality of his vision, and which, 
 we trust, may carry with it a potent infection for good. 
 The sooner the young men of our country, recognizing the 
 extent and verity of our disgrace, shall thus analyze its 
 causes and find one of them in their own apathy, the more 
 speedy and sure will be the needful political reaction," 
 
 The famous Fifth Avenue conference of those who de- 
 sired to bring about the reformation of our national affiiirs, 
 which was called by William Cullen Bryant, Carl Schurz, 
 Martin Brimmer, ex-Governor Bullock, Horace White, L. 
 r. S. Foster, Parke Godwin, and J. W. Hoyt, and which 
 was presided over by ex-President Woolsey, was held in 
 New York, May 16, 1876. To this meeting Mr. Brown 
 was appointed delegate, and took part in the speaking. 
 Although nothing definite in the way of political nomina- 
 tion was proposed, yet the principles set forth in speeches 
 and resolutions were of a positive kind. They pointed to 
 the speedy resumption of specie payment ; a thorough non- 
 partisan civil service, where fidelity and capacity should 
 
122 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 constitute the only real claim to public employment; the 
 supremacy of the civil over the military authority in every 
 part of the land, and total non-interference on the part of 
 the general government with the local aifairs of the States ; 
 retrenchment and reduction of the public expenses ; the 
 earnest effort to have a man chosen for the Presidency who 
 was not a mere politician but an honest man, whose very 
 name would be a sufficient guarantee of honest government 
 and a rigid enforcement of the laws. The manifesto of this 
 conference was a noble document. It ended with these 
 words : " Our generation has to open the second century of 
 our national life as the fathers opened the first. Theirs 
 was the w^ork of independence ; ours is the work of refor- 
 mation. The one is as vital now as it was then. Every 
 true American must have the courage of his duty." In a 
 narrow sense, it may be said that this movement was a 
 failure ; but who can tell the influence that a bold effort 
 like this — a thunder-storm in the political firmament — had 
 upon the political condition of the country ? Huss and 
 Latimer were burned at the stake, but the words they spoke 
 have purified, for centuries, the religious life of Protestant 
 and Catholic alike. The words of an earnest young man 
 like Henry Armitt Brown, spoken fearlessly at the time 
 of his opportunity, are not lost ; they are felt now, and will 
 always be felt. 
 
 The singular prominence (for a young man) that he had 
 at this time, the fact that his native city and State put him 
 forward on every public occasion, the frequency with which 
 his name came before the people, the many speeches he made 
 here and there, before all kinds of societies, — jjolitical, phi- 
 losophical, social, and literary, — have led some to say that 
 he was ambitious of distinction, — a frequent charge against 
 young men who take a leading ^jart in affairs. He doubt- 
 
CHARGE OF BEING AMBITIOUS. 123 
 
 less was ambitious; he did aim at a certain kind of power 
 wliich is the fair object of political striving ; but ambition 
 is to be viewed with intelligent discrimination. Ambition 
 is a sentiment of tlie healthy mind just as is the law of 
 happiness. If a man have power, he is forced to try it in 
 competition with others. If a man have a gift like oratory, 
 he has a lawful delight in its use, which is also a means of 
 its development. The desire to unfold one's powers, like the 
 wings of an eagle, is the spring of achievement. If it end 
 merely in this self-development, it becomes ignoble. But 
 a young man without ambition is like a tree without sap. 
 He lacks the principle of natural growth. His restlessness 
 may be the spirit of God stirring in him. 
 
 " The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought, 
 And is with childe of glorious great intent, 
 Can never rest untill it forth hath brought 
 The eternal broodc of glorie excellent."* 
 
 But, if ambitious, Mr. Brown's well-regulated will and 
 balanced nature kept these fires under control. He loved 
 well-earned praise as noble men always do, but he never 
 bought praise by the sacrifice of his principles, though 
 ready to suffer for them. He declined offers of official 
 position. He did not seek prominence in any way, as lie 
 did not seek office. He might have been a mere social 
 celebrity. He might have belonged to the jeunesse dore 
 of a great city. But the only reward he asked for doing 
 well was to have more work to do. He did delight in this 
 taxing and filling up to the utmost of all his energies with 
 public work put upon him, and he cheerfully spent " labo- 
 rious days" without personal reward in this kind of service. 
 
 * Edmund Spenser. 
 
124 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 He flung himself into the Presidential contest with the 
 greatest ardor, and no one man toiled more incessantly, both 
 in public and private, to bring about what he considered a 
 higher political result than had yet been attained, at least 
 in these last days. But, before speaking of this, let us go 
 back to a characteristic of Mr. Brown's mind, which has 
 already been alluded to, — his love of nature. He had the 
 poetic sense, but his busy life did not permit him to indulge 
 this taste, for politics and aesthetics do not inhabit the same 
 house. But he lost no opportunity to catch a smile from 
 nature's face. He wearied of the city ; he longed for the free, 
 open "country. He delighted to pass the summer months 
 in the picturesque hill region of Litchfield, Connecticut, 
 where, with his dog and gun, he roamed the fields and 
 M'oods about blue Bantam Lake, and filled his mind with 
 fresh thoughts. He was keen in his notice of scenery, and 
 his letters are full of expressions of pure joy at new scenes. 
 He was observant of trees. He loved an oak as he did an 
 oration of Demosthenes, or any other strong and beautiful 
 product. 
 
 In a letter, dated August 22, 1875, to his mother, Mdio 
 was then in Europe, he describes the changes that had 
 taken place at the family's " summer home" in Burlington, 
 New Jersey, which had been unoccupied for many years, 
 and especially in the transformation time had wrought on 
 the trees there. Surely none but a lover of such things 
 could have written the following : 
 
 " In vain does one look for the smoke-stack of the steamboat from 
 that porch, or from the chamber window out of which you used to 
 watch the coming storms ; the big willow, and the linden, and the 
 mass of trees that grow out of the ' forest,' effectually shut out the 
 view. The majjle-tree in the kitchen-yard has thrown up such enor- 
 mous roots as to raise the pavement several inches. The grapery is 
 
LETTER FROM ''SUMMER HOME." 125 
 
 in reasonable condition, — thanks to Woodie Hancock. The walks 
 are neat and well trimmed. Some few of the trees ought to have 
 been taken out years ago, but most of them are magnificent and 
 have thriven wonderfully. The evergreens are superb. In the 
 back lot several spi'uces are models of beauty. We walked about 
 to-day and examined several which ought to be taken down, — the 
 shapeless and scraggy ones which interfere with the growth of better 
 trees. But it is so hard to raise and so easy to cut down that we 
 shall be careful. The summer-house remains unchanged, and the 
 pines about it are now big trees. The arbor-vitae hedge is still fine, 
 but roughly so, — no longer trim and smooth. Not a bush, however, 
 seems to have died or become sickly, and its height in some places 
 will reach eight feet. Do you remember the row of pear-trees that 
 never would bear much fruit, that stood near the hedge? There 
 were some quinces that stood in front of them. They have now 
 grown great, and seven of them are Seckels, and are hanging full of 
 fruit. They are fifteen or eighteen feet high and very promising. 
 The wistaria that you planted around the little arbor at the entrance 
 of the vegetable garden has become of extraordinary size. It covers 
 the side of the barn, — stretching across the roof, runs under it and 
 appears on the other side of the stable-yard, and swings about the 
 chestnut and maple trees in the most generous fashion. The dwarf 
 pears in the little orchard have ceased to be, the stocks gradually 
 dying from age. The little cherry and evergreen that were hardly 
 noticeable there five years ago are tall and vigorous trees, and you 
 cannot see the stable from the house. I am glad to find that the birds 
 are very numerous, and still more so that the place has become the 
 resort of many beautiful red squirrels, which apparently have their 
 home in the big maple that took ten horses and eight men to move, 
 for the base of that tree is heaped with gnawed walnut shells. While 
 we were at dinner one of the little bright-eyed fellows came up to 
 the piazza and gambolled about to the great delight of Nannie. The 
 grass in many places is worn, and in many places it is a mass of 
 soft green moss. So, too, are the banks on the side toward Aunt 
 Mary's house. The big honeysuckle still blooms in fragrance at 
 the corner of the veranda where you used to sit in hot mornings, 
 and at the front steps is the other vine, in which I notice a bird's 
 nest as of old. There are but few flowers about except the roses, 
 which are blooming in great bushes here and there. I feel that you 
 
126 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 have been in communion with us this afternoon as we walked about 
 and recognized the different trees, and talked of them and those they 
 have sheltered once on a time. Here is the maple that was planted 
 to replace the one snapped off in the great storm of '54; there is 
 the locust, once but two or four inches thick, where we used to 
 get the great thorns for antlers when we * played deer,' — now a tree 
 eighteen inches in the butt ; another tree as thick as my body, which 
 I planted as a seed picked up in the circle in front of the house on 
 the little grave at the foot of it, still a mound a foot high, Avhere 
 ' Bluff' was buried ; and yonder is the giant chestnut in Aunt Mai-y's 
 back orchard, now a cone of yellow blossoms ! The ancient crab- 
 apple smiles a sickly smile, the ' Kentucky coffee-tree' has thrown 
 his head skyward forty feet, and the twin chestnuts at the corner of 
 the house are two feet thick at the stern. One of the larches has 
 begun to die at the heart and shows now about six feet of dead top 
 above the purple magnolia, but the other, its mate on the other side 
 of the ' arch,' is tall and sturdy. The copper beeches stand as of 
 old. The pair of yews, spreading over a diameter of twelve or 
 thirteen feet, still guard the front walk; the smoke-trees .are feath- 
 ered Avith pink cloud from top to toe as they Avere wont to be, and 
 the constant chattering of robin, blackbird, thrush, and wren keep 
 up the concert all day long." 
 
 In another letter, dated June 10, 1877, written from 
 Lebanon Spring.s, New York, he gives utterance to a wish 
 that his old friend, Horatius Flaccus, would certainly have 
 joined him in, and they two would have tramped out with 
 inniiense pleasure to survey the spot, to look up the capa- 
 bilities of the place, and to discover the qualities of the 
 trees, the soil, and the springs. No snow-powdered Soracte, 
 it is true, was in sight, but the Catskills must do for the 
 nonce. He says : 
 
 " And yet I think if I were a millionnaire and could indulge a 
 passing fancy, I would buy fifty or a hundred acres that I know of, 
 two or two and a half miles from here, on the summit of a hill from 
 which the views surpass anything I have seen except Rigi Culm. 
 There is a natural terrace between two knobs of rock on which a 
 
SPEECH AT THE CINCINNATI CONVENTION. 127 
 
 cottage could stand. Behind it is a large dense wood of chestnut, 
 oak, and pine trees. From the front of a house built here you could 
 take in three-fourths of the horizon. You look eastward into Berk- 
 shire County and see half a dozen villages with their dividing ranges 
 of hills, while to the southward beyond the valley of the Hudson the 
 Catskill range stands up like a purple wall. The hill is not very 
 high, but peculiarly placed, and I would buy some acres and build a 
 cottage here had I the needful," 
 
 ISIr. Brown went to Cincinnati in June of 1876 as a 
 delegate of the "Bristow Club of Philadelphia" to the 
 Republican convention, to use all honorable means to secure 
 the nomination of their candidate. The history of that 
 famous convention, of its w^irepullings, schemings, skirmish- 
 ings, votings, changing phases like Naseby fight, and its (to 
 the country at large) unexpected result, is well known and 
 need not be repeated. He, who had been among the first 
 in the field for his candidate, made a brave stand for him. 
 He delivered a vigorous speech at Pike's Opera House, 
 Cincinnati, Tuesday, June 13, Hon. Job E. Stevenson in 
 the chair. From this speech we make but one extract : 
 
 " What is it that the people of this country desire to do? What 
 is it that they demand in a candidate? Character? Is that much? 
 Capacity? Is that much in an intelligent people? Courage? Is 
 that much in a people that has shown the bravery of the Ameri- 
 can people? Character, capacity, courage : those things they ask. 
 They ask fidelity to trust, fidelity to republican institutions. They 
 ask an honest government, an honest and able administration of 
 their public aiFairs. They want to see men in the highest as well as 
 the lowest offices of this government, who are honest, fixithful, capa- 
 ble, and who can be trusted. They ask this not as a favor, but as a 
 right, and they are bound to have it. The politician of the hour, 
 be he reinforced ten million times, cannot make the people of this 
 country any longer vote against their will for dishonest men. [Ap- 
 plause.] You may take the horse to water, but how many does it 
 take to make him drink ? They may nominate, but it is the people 
 
128 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT. BROWN. 
 
 Avho elect. They must give us a different kind of men from the sort 
 that we have been threatened witli, to say the least. And, more 
 than that, the people, I say, demand these things of a candidate. 
 They demand, also, a man who has been tried ; who has shown his 
 courage ; who talks not about reform, but does reform ; who prom- 
 ises nothing, but who performs; — a man who has given pledges; a 
 man who has proved his sincerity ; a man who has passed through 
 the fire and has not proved himself a tallow candle. They want 
 that kind of a man ; they want a man born with a backbone ; they 
 want a man who has a backbone born in him and developed ; they 
 •want a man who has a backbone that has been strengthened by the 
 practice of standing up; they want a man who can resist tempta- 
 tion. These are not great things to ask ; and the American people, 
 as a patriotic, as an intelligent people, demand and will have these 
 things. [Applause.] 
 
 " Now, is it impossible for the Republican party to furnish this? 
 Is there not, in that great party that went into the war and crushed 
 rebellion, such a man as that? Is there not in the party that saved 
 the Union and held up the hands of Abraham Lincoln such a man 
 as that? There are many, but there is one to-day raised up for us 
 as a leader by the hand of God himself. In crises, in dangerous 
 times in our history, God has raised up leaders before this. When 
 he raises up before us a leader to-day who stands pointing out the 
 path, shall we be blind ? In all parts of this country to-night, in 
 little hamlets by the sea-board, in huts in the mountains, in the me- 
 chanic's shop, by the forge, by the furnace, wherever in this country 
 the honest and patriotic American longs for honesty in power, and 
 purity in national affairs, his eye turns, as if by instinct, to the 
 south bank of the Ohio, and his voice utters the name of Bristow. 
 [Prolonged applause.] 
 
 " My friends, there is no doubt of this. Poll the American people 
 to-day and they would say Bristow — eight out of ten of them. Poll 
 the Republicans in all parts of this country, and Bristow is their 
 choice to-day. [Cheers.] Even here in Cincinnati — I don't mean 
 even here in Cincinnati, but I mean even here in Cincinnati among 
 the politicians — go and ask them about the candidates, and one will 
 say Mr. A., and some will say Mr. B., and a very few — chiefly from 
 the State of New York — will say ]\Ir. C. [Laughter.] They de- 
 clare for this and that one as their first choice, but they say, after 
 
SPEECH AT THE CINCINNATI CONVENTION. ]29 
 
 all, that Bristow would carry the people. Even among the politi- 
 cians who are the managers of the machine, while they prefer one 
 man from this State, or another man from a different State, and so 
 on, yet they all agree that the second man is Bristow." [Applause.] 
 
 The speech was thus commented upon in the papers : 
 
 " Another of the events of the night was a speech of the 
 young Philadelphia orator, Henry Armitt Brown, before a 
 Bristow meeting at Pike's Opera House. Mr. Brown re- 
 view^ed the situation of the party in 1872, when it con- 
 trolled so many States, with a man in the opposition whose 
 candidacy was a comedy, until it passed over the narrow 
 limit between the comic and the pathetic, and the farce 
 ended in a tragedy. Then he described the present haz- 
 ardous condition of the party in the country, and its de- 
 pendence on the character of the candidate to be put for- 
 ward by the convention. The qualities the people now 
 demand, he said, are character, capacity, and courage ; and 
 Mr. Bristow, he thought, filled the demands. Mr. Browu's 
 speech was a really brilliant one, and was enthusiastically 
 received by the friends of Mr. Bristow." 
 
 " Mr. Brown's beautiful diction, close logic, and admira- 
 ble bearing on the platform were brought into their best 
 play in the presence of a large audience assembled. Job 
 Stevenson presided. Dr. Bellows of New York, James 
 Freeman Clarke of Boston, and others spoke. Mr. Brown, 
 in concluding, said : ' In a time like this America wants 
 not the representative of any particular section, nor the 
 favorite son of any State. What she wants is a man. Six- 
 teen years ago she found him in Illinois ; to-day she finds 
 him in Kentucky.' " 
 
 Mr. Brown's liking for Mr. Bristow was reciprocated by 
 the latter gentleman. Neither sought the other's friend- 
 ship, and it was only a strong similarity of political views 
 
130 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 that brought them together. They became confidential cor- 
 respondents, and recognized in each other many of the same 
 characteristics. Mr. Bristow has freely declared that Henry 
 Armitt Brown was born to be a political leader, because he 
 not only had political insight, but because he acted on his 
 convictions ; and that he was sure, if he had lived, to take 
 a high position in the nation. He was equal to any post 
 in the gift of the people. 
 
 The Cincinnati Convention over, the months of June 
 and July, 1876, were taken up with that long looked for 
 event, the national commemoration at Philadelphia, when, 
 in presence of a mighty multitude from all parts of the 
 land, the one hundredth anniversary of the Declaration of 
 Independence was celebrated by song, speech, and the united 
 and reverent acclaim of joyful hearts. In the Avording of 
 Mr. Evarts's oration, " The event brought its own plau- 
 dits. It did not hang on the voice of the speaker, nor de- 
 pend upon the contacts and associations of the place. It 
 was the serene commemoration ' of a new State, of a new 
 species,' which showed the marvellous wisdom of our an- 
 cestors ; which struck the line between too little and too 
 much ; which walked by faith, indeed, for things invisible, 
 but yet, by sight, for things visible ; which dared to appro- 
 priate everything to the people which had belonged to Ctesar, 
 but to assume for mortals nothing that belonged to God." 
 
 We subjoin Mr. Brown's account of his personal adven- 
 tures on that multitudinous occasion in a letter addressed to 
 his mother. It is a pity he could not have finished the 
 narrative. He writes : 
 
 " The great event, however, was the scene on the 10th. Having 
 received no invitation, I presumed I was to see the ceremonies with 
 the democracy, and expected to go out towards noon and spend the 
 
CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION. 131 
 
 day with my wife in the grounds, having no relish for the scrambling 
 and pushing of such a vast swarm of people. 
 
 " On Monday, the 8th, however, I received an invitation from 
 General Hawley asking me to act as his aide-de-camp. At first I 
 thought I would refuse. Tiicre had been trouble about invitations, 
 
 and Philadelphians generally had felt slighted. D , C , and 
 
 others had not been asked, and I felt disinclined to go except on my 
 own merits. On second thoughts, however, I reflected that it was 
 foolish to take that view, and agreed with me, strongly advis- 
 ing me to accept. I did so, and on Friday went to report myself. I 
 found that the staff was to consist of four army officers, four briga- 
 diers of Pennsylvania militia, and four civilians. The preparations 
 were being pushed with an energy that seemed like frenzy, and the 
 rain fell in torrents from a leaden sky. At five in the morning of 
 the 10th, I was awaked by the din. Whistles, cannon and bells, 
 made such a racket that it was impossible to sleep. xVfter a peep at 
 the weather, which was most unpromising, the rain continuing to 
 fall, I breakfasted in haste, and dressed in my evening suit, with a 
 ribbon across my manly bosom, sallied forth at seven, met William 
 McMichael, and started for the grounds. We had to walk the entire 
 distance. Wagons, carriages, cars, all were crowded even at that 
 hour, and when we reached the gates they were already, an hour 
 before the opening time, besieged by an impatient mob. Arriving 
 at headquarters, we found that the four officers, two of the briga- 
 diers, and McMichael and myself constituted the staff. About half- 
 past eight, being told that we had three-quarters of an hour to spare, 
 McM. and myself started off to get a cup of coffee. Hurrying back 
 first, I found, to my dismay, that Ilawley and his staff were gone. 
 Throwing my overcoat into a corner I followed, and after tw^enty 
 minutes of vigoi'ous pushing got through the crowd that was rapidly 
 forming below the circle of seats, and gained a place on the platform. 
 You know how the seats were arranged. A huge amphitheatre facing 
 the main building had been erected against Memorial Hall. A large 
 gallery on the north side of the main building served for the choristers 
 and orchestra, and beneath and between the two stood packed the 
 people. It was now half-past nine o'clock. The sun, which had 
 been struggling with the clouds, burst through and the morning 
 became clear and beautiful. For nearly two hours the crowd kept 
 streaming in unbroken. Judges, Governors, Senators, Congress- 
 
132 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 men, Diplomats in court costume, Foreign Commissioners in all 
 sorts of dress, with a great multitude of women, poured through 
 the alley, kept by ropes and soldiers from the main building to 
 the stage, and mounting the steps took seats assigned them. By 
 half-past ten o'clock there must have been a hundred thousand 
 people grouped between the buildings. About that time the 
 Emperor of Brazil arrived with the Empress, and a large number 
 of ladies of the Cabinet and of the Senate, and took the principal 
 seats. It must have been half-past ten when General Ilawley 
 asked me to get McMichael and go witli him to the back door of 
 Memorial Hall, and remaining there, to let him know when the 
 President arrived. We hurried to our place. By chance I recog- 
 nized Hudson Rich, of Burlington, as a captain of the Centennial 
 Guard. 'Can you detail a man to me?' I asked. 'Yes,' Avas the 
 reply, and presently I had a man posted at the back gate with orders 
 to let me know the instant the President came. The scene from the 
 
 back of Memorial Hall was beautiful Here unfortunately am 
 
 interrupted. It occurs to me that a very interesting account of the 
 opening might be taken down from my lips, but must close." 
 
 Mr. Evarts was, on this occasion, the gnest of Mr. Brown, 
 and it is an interesting though trivial circumstance tliat, at 
 Mr. A. J. Drexel's reception on the evening of July 4, 
 Mr. Brown introduced Mr. Hayes (then candidate for the 
 Presidency) to ]Mr. Evarts, afterwards his Secretary of 
 State. It is remarkable (for so young a man) what a 
 number of friendships, unmixed with a shade of servility, 
 but characterized, on the other hand, by a stiff independ- 
 ence and self-assertion, Mr. Brown already sustained with 
 leading men of the nation. He met them, though mod- 
 estly, on equal terms, and in the most natural way. We 
 find among his correspondence letters which bespeak much 
 more than an incidental acquaintanceship, and some of 
 which contain a free interchange of ideas and opinions 
 with such men as President Hayes, Wm. M. Evarts, Carl 
 Schurz, Charles Francis Adams, Wendell Phillips, Josiah 
 
ARTICLE ON HORACE BINNEY. I33 
 
 Quincy, B. H. Bristow, E. R. Hoar, Chief-Justice Waite, 
 Robert C. Winthrop, Benson J. Lossing, Parke Godwin, 
 Longfellow, Whittier, James T. Fields, Bret Harte, Oliver 
 Wendell Holmes, Wm. Walter Phelps, Eugene Schuyler, 
 George Wm. Curtis; and, outside of the country, with 
 Thomas Hughes, Lord Houghton, Sir Charles W. Dilke, 
 and others prominent as writers and politicians in England 
 and France. He seemed to have the faculty of attracting 
 to him men of ideas and power, and he in turn was attracted 
 by them. 
 
 Among the Penn Monthly jottings of the year just ended 
 are to be found discriminating sketches of Hans Christian 
 Andersen, Andrew Johnson, Gerrit Smith, Horace Binney, 
 a lawyer pur et simple, and Benjamin R. Curtis, with many 
 other articles that show a more confident power in the discus- 
 sion of national politics. His article upon Mr. Binney, which 
 fitly closes what he has already written of him, ends thus : 
 
 " The future critic of our institutions glancing through 
 the list of obscure and sometimes ignoble names which 
 Pennsylvania has sought to honor, will wonder why men 
 like Sergeant, and Meredith, and Binney were never made 
 governors, or chief justices, or secretaries of the United 
 States, and will see in that fact, perhaps, one explanation 
 of the smallness of her influence on the country, in com- 
 parison with that of South Carolina, or Virginia, or New 
 England. ' By their fruits ye shall know them ;' by the 
 Avorth and character of their men cities and commonwealths 
 are rightly to be judged. More than one Bostonian has 
 become famous because of his surroundings. Horace Bin- 
 ney was great in spite of his. But now that he is dead, 
 Philadelphia, perhaps, will appreciate what manner of man 
 he was, and realize, when too late, that she will probably 
 never again possess or lose so great a citizen." 
 
134 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 This memorable Centennial year of 1876 was calculated 
 to awake deep thoughts in many breasts. In a " leader" 
 written for the New Year's number of the Pliiladclphia 
 Times, which shows how he felt on the subject, Mr. Brown 
 
 says: 
 
 " But what has been our moral and political growth ? We are 
 more intelligent generally than we were a hundred years ago. We 
 are richer, more powerful, more skilful, more learned, more enlight- 
 ened ; but are we a better people? Are our merchants more public- 
 spirited, our lawyers more patriotic, our men of capital less selfish, 
 our politicians purer and less partisan? Do we choose for rulers 
 the best men in each community ? Is it still an honor to serve the 
 people and the State? Does the office seek the man, and political 
 power rest only in tried and trusted hands? Are our cities better 
 governed than they were in earlier days? Does the public service 
 draw out the best talent and character, and open, as it once did, 
 careers of usefulness and honor to the worthiest citizens? Are 
 public duties more faithfully discharged ? Are the liberties of the 
 people guarded with more jealous eyes? Is the national honor 
 dearer to us than it used to be? Or is it true that we have not 
 striven to grow better ; that we have been content to praise the 
 past with fulsome eulogy and then forget it; that we have turned 
 from the examples of our fathers and devoted our energies to the 
 service of ourselves ; that Ave have constantly sacrificed the common 
 good to private gain ; that in our hunger for Avealth and petty power 
 we have so systematically neglected the simplest public duties, that 
 politics are at last synonymous with vice, and statesmanship with 
 incapacity ; that office has become too often the avenue to dishonor, 
 and political power the path to infamy?" 
 
 These questions poured out with impetuousness show the 
 thoughts that were boiling in his mind. He had outgrown 
 the partisan, and had caught the spirit of the time and 
 become national in his aims. For a time the law, that 
 " most jealous mistress," lost its hold on him. Charles 
 Sumner at about the same period of life wrote to one of 
 
A REPUBLICAN OF THE ANTIQUE TYPE. 135 
 
 his friends: "For myself I become more wedded to the 
 law as a profession every day that I study it. Politics I 
 begin to loathe ; they are of a day, but the law is of all 
 time." It was not so with Mr. Brown. He was more 
 absolutely interested in politics than in law. He was irre- 
 sistibly led to take up a political career because he had in 
 him the root of larger things than of a mere professional 
 life. He might be called, if such an expression were 
 allowed, a classic Republican. He made (a better way 
 still) a party to himself.* But he seemed to be born with 
 principles of a hundred years ago. Considering his youth 
 and social environment, he was singular in retaining amid 
 modern culture some of the rugged sentiments of an older 
 type of American republicanism. One of these was rev- 
 erence. It is no exaggeration to say that he could have 
 mingled, without one shadow of incongruity, in any con- 
 gregation of serious-visaged New England pilgrims in 
 their plain " meeting-house" on top of Plymouth hill, or 
 have kept hushed silence in an assembly of old-fash- 
 ioned Pennsylvania Quakers, waiting for the moving of 
 the spirit, or have sat in the grave and courtly company of 
 our early Constitution- makers in "Independence Hall." 
 His Puritan blood would not yield to much of the so- 
 called progress of the day which sneers at ancient customs. 
 He was conservative in his principles though radical in 
 his measures. He was too earnest to be greatly swayed 
 by fashions. Though a product of the times he lived in, 
 yet he " carried a measure in himself," independently of the 
 opinions of others. There was not in his manners that 
 
 * " Si ch' fia te a bello 
 Averti fatta parte per te stesso." 
 La Divina Commedia : Paradiso^ Canto xvii. t. 24. 
 
136 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 familiarity which breeds contempt. He knew the distinc- 
 tion between things God had made honorable and those he 
 had made base. He recognized law, or the principle of 
 authority founded on right. He was sturdy in such primi- 
 tive notions as honoring parents, showing deference to the 
 aged, paying respect to office and to religion. This reverent 
 spirit of which we speak was partly a matter of taste, but 
 more of principle. Delightfully genial as he was in society, 
 reminding one of Anthony Trollope's description of George 
 Lewes as a companion, and leaving behind him no equal 
 for an hour's chat, there was still something about him of 
 the antique. He would go to a certain length only with 
 the custom of the day, and he halted in firm but modest 
 protest at whatever offended a manly sense of honor. 
 
 Another of his old-time sentiments was patriotism. This 
 was his passion. He fed this sentiment in his thoughts like 
 a sacred flame. Literature, poetry, travel, did not satisfy 
 him; he had the discontent of one seeking his work. There 
 was a duty to his country that called him. His political 
 life fell upon times of anxiety and dreariness, when the old 
 spirit burned low on the altar. He had to be a reformer 
 in order to be a patriot. The two streams of tendency had 
 met in strife. Never was there a time when good political 
 leaders were more in demand. A short time before, mili- 
 tary chiefs were needed. Young Napoleon was the cry. 
 Now, statesmen, or, if the word be too large, honest politi- 
 cians, are the want. Our country, though young among 
 nations, is passing through a time of development, which, if 
 not betokening weakness in its constitutional principles, nor 
 giving proof of inherent disease in the body-politic, is show- 
 ing signs of an enormous strain put upon its political system 
 by new emergencies, and the necessity of a much broader 
 and more skilful adaptation of its principles of govern- 
 
AS A REFORMER. 137 
 
 ment to these crises. The nation is no longer "in its 
 gristle." It feels growing pains. It is fast maturing. It 
 haSj at all events, outgrown its babyhood, and perhaps its 
 first youth, and is entering upon its manhood, with man- 
 hood's burdens and perils. The time of tutelage is replaced 
 by the time of action. Reared in rustic seclusion, our 
 country is now introduced into the family of nations, to 
 take its position and do its work, and is also beginning to 
 experience the seductive influence of Old-World civiliza- 
 tion and ideas. Europe is pouring its myriads upon us of 
 those whose characters and opinions are irrevocably shaped 
 in anti-republican moulds. The Corinthian brass which 
 we hope will be the result, is now in a state of violent 
 fusion of its various elements. The end of all is, that in 
 the present transition period the unity of the national idea 
 is undergoing change. Greatly diverse forces are rushing 
 in, and it is a time of danger. 
 
 '' The juggler's hand is in the b.allot-box, 
 While ofSce wins by tricks." 
 
 Old ideals shine less and less clear. Republican faith 
 grows dimmer and dimmer. Even as the primitive sim- 
 plicity of the Christian faith was gradually lost under the 
 influence of materialistic forms, so the pure republican idea 
 is obscured. The moral tone of the nation is also lowered. 
 The germinant truth of self-government, moral in essence, 
 has been opposed by an uprising immoral custom, and powers 
 of evil let loose by the immense expansion of the material 
 prosperity of the country, are assailing the country's life. 
 Our nation at present has more to fear from internal de- 
 moralization than from any external foe. The love of 
 gain is the root of all popular as well as personal evil. 
 "Wherever there is gold, though guarded like the Nibe- 
 
 10 
 
138 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 lungen treasures, there is the hissing and writhing of office- 
 seekers. The history of political reform in this country is 
 that of a small and determined group of men who have 
 entered upon the disheartening labor of delivering the 
 nation from the evils of official corruption. It needs some 
 element of the heroic to carry on such a work. Charles 
 Kingsley said, " We are growing more and more comfort- 
 able, frivolous, pleasure-seeking, money-making ; more and 
 more utilitarians; more and more mercenary in our politics, 
 in our morals, in our religion ; thinking less of honor and 
 duty, and more of loss and gain. I am born in an unheroic 
 time. You must not ask me to become heroic in it." True 
 reformers have had, so to speak, to take their life in their 
 hands. They have had to assault those powerful organiza- 
 tions which, in the strong language of the North American 
 Review, " rob the people annually to the tune of millions 
 and tens of millions, through its whiskey rings, its Indian 
 rings, its custom-house rings, its railroad rings, and other 
 legalized machinery which it manipulates." The tide sets 
 strongly towards a reckless development and waste of our 
 national resources instead of steady reform and economy. 
 The theory is present aggrandizement instead of future 
 permanent prosperity. It is the doctrine of spoils, of the 
 sale of offices, of bad faith in government agents, of par- 
 tisan interference in the business and imtronage of gov- 
 ernment, of the betrayal of sacred trusts, of the farming 
 of the highest civil, educational, and religious interests 
 for purposes of gain, and of social corruption. While 
 many of the charges against public men have been mani- 
 festly false, yet there can be no doubt of the dead apathy 
 and actual obstruction in regard to true reform in civil 
 matters of those w^ho hold power in Congressional and 
 governmental circles. There is too much government. 
 
AS A REFORMER. 139 
 
 There are too many offices, too many incumbents in gov- 
 ernment i^ay, who might earn their livelihood in private 
 life and add something to the country's strength. Above 
 all, honest and able men are wanted, — political leaders 
 who will not rely on expedients, but principles, who regard 
 the future results of political opinions, who do not look so 
 much to party success as to national existence, who model 
 themselves on Alexander Hamilton rather than Aaron 
 Burr. Abraham Lincoln, with all his shrewdness as a 
 keen-sighted Western politician and rail-splitter, believed 
 in the old ideas of right, honesty, and freedom. The pro- 
 gress of liberty was not a catchword with him. Henry 
 Armitt Brown, though a young politician, was building him- 
 self upon true models. He was a man of uncorrupted life. 
 As was said of another, " of a simple, frank, unconscious 
 character, he had in him the possibility of heroic action." 
 He was courageous without making a display of it. Seek- 
 ing boldly for mastery, he still followed Edmund Spenser's 
 
 words : 
 
 " In vain he seeketh others to suppress 
 Who hath not learned himself first to subdue." 
 
 And he was like one of Spenser's own heroes, 
 
 " For he loathed leasing and base flattery, 
 And loved simple truth and steadfast honesty." 
 
 Mr. Brown did not confess to " the new gospel of non- 
 reform." He believed that the rational basis of government 
 was moral, was laid on individual rights, and that its object 
 was the best good of society. Where, therefore, there ex- 
 isted a civil abuse, he felt it to be his duty to attack it. 
 This was an instinctive feeling. He had an intuitive dis- 
 satisfaction with whatever was wrong in society. He nat- 
 urally allied himself with reform. He began at once to 
 
140 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 act ^vith that party of uncompromising men who were 
 ahnost hopelessly in the minority. He accepted the Amer- 
 ican theory of "the omnipotence of a platform," and he 
 prepared himself for a life-long contest with demagogism. 
 He felt deeply, deeply, as he often expressed it, the de- 
 plorable condition of public morals, of public and private 
 faithlessness, of social and civil mismanagement. The 
 great questions of labor and capital, of poor-relief, of 
 socialism and communism, of the finances, of free-trade 
 and national credit, were seething in his mind. It was for 
 educated men wdth educated wills to take up these ques- 
 tions. " Politics as a profession," and " the scholar in 
 politics," he often said, were phrases he cared little about, 
 but the times were perilous and his country needed her 
 best men, — "men of clear intellects, strong convictions, 
 high purposes, and honest minds." The questions before 
 the country were not to be settled by the mob or by a 
 happy chance. They were the most difficult and compli- 
 cated of questions, even intellectually viewed. Such things 
 would not right themselves. He held that society needed 
 reconstruction in some of its first principles. Men should 
 be taught to " mend their manners, and to cultivate their 
 own free will as the arbiter of their own destiny." He 
 felt the need of "new noblenesses, new generosities, new 
 conceptions of duty, and how duty should be done." He 
 would set his face like a flint against the jjublic decadence, 
 and call for the making of a new order, with fresh blood 
 in it, bold thoughts, culture directed by jiatriotic purposes. 
 He believed that we must have good government, and that 
 the one intolerable thing in this country is anarchy. 
 
 AVe hasten to speak of the Presidential campaign. When 
 it had fairly opened Mr. Brown was early in the field, and, 
 
"OiV THE STUMP." 141 
 
 althoiig:h lie had been disappointed in the nomination of a 
 candidate other than his own, he accepted with heartiness 
 the choice which had been made by the Republican party, 
 and girded Iiimself to tlie task of helping on Mr. Hayes's 
 election as a man " who had rather be right than be Presi- 
 dent," and one also pledged to reform views. To show 
 how his efforts were estimated, a prominent member of the 
 Cincinnati Convention has, in so many words, publicly de- 
 clared that no one Eastern man did more at the West to in- 
 sure Hayes's election to the Presidency than Henry Armitt 
 Brown. His labors were chiefly concentrated in Ohio and 
 neighboring States. Perhaps nothing could give a livelier 
 account of his " stumping tour" than the following extract 
 from one of his familiar letters, dated November 6, 1876 : 
 
 " It is the eve of the most important election that has taken place 
 in this country for many years. I reached home last night after my 
 third journey since September 24. On that day I left town for the 
 West, remaining till the 12th of October. On the 17th I started 
 again, and was absent till the 23d. On the 27th I spoke in Burling- 
 ton, and on last Tuesday — the 31st — I began my last pilgrimage. I 
 made six speeches in Ohio; seven in Indiana; one in Wilmington, 
 Delaware ; one in Burlington, New Jersey ; and eight in Pennsyl- 
 vania; a total of twenty-three; and have been engaged either in 
 speaking, or travelling for that purpose, thirty-three days out of the 
 forty-three since September 23. 
 
 " I must have spoken to a great many thousand people in that time, 
 for my smallest meeting must have numbered six hundred, and from 
 that figure they ran up to ten thousand and twelve thousand. I 
 was fortunate in my associates as well as in sometimes being alone. 
 In Ohio I held three meetings with Mr. James Tanner, of New 
 York, and two by myself. In Indiana I spoke five times with Sen- 
 ator Morton (though he held the afternoon and I the evening ones) ; 
 once with Genei*al Harrison, the candidate for governor ; and once 
 (to a torchlight procession) with Governor Woodford, of New York, 
 and Mr. Kasson, member of Congress fi-om Iowa. Here I had Mr. 
 Brosius of Lancaster, for a colleague at Scran ton, Pittston, and 
 
142 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 Bloomsburg; and Major Wilson Norris was with me at Easton ; but 
 at Burlington, Wilmington, Gettysburg, York, Chambersburg, and 
 Carlisle, I was alone. Mj^ shortest speech was half an hour, my 
 longest two hours and a half, and generally I consumed more than 
 an hour and a half of my hearers' patience and time. I mention all 
 these things to show you how much I have gone into the fight which 
 comes to an end to-day, and it may perhaps excuse me in your eyes 
 for writing so little to you within the past two months. 
 
 " I have read your letters to P. and myself, acknowledging the 
 speech sent from Columbus, and K.'s of a similar date. As for the 
 reported speech, I can only say that I knew you would want to see 
 it and would judge it leniently, but it was hardly up to the oppor- 
 tunity I expected to have, and my later speeches were very much 
 better in all respects, I have learned many arts and wrinkles in 
 this long campaign. As for the general result, I can hardly venture 
 a prediction, although prophecies of defeat are liberally made on 
 every side. Long before this meets your eye we shall both know 
 the result, and prophecy is useless. But I think that the Republi- 
 cans are going to be beaten. The canvass has been shamefully mis- 
 managed by the 'regulars' and 'machine-men' of the party, who 
 insisted on carrying it on in their own way. Instead of bringing 
 the best men to the front and fighting the battle on Hayes's letter 
 of acceptance, they preferred to believe that it was won without a 
 struggle, before a shot had been fired, and when they did wake up 
 it was very late in the day. Bristow, Schurz, Evarts, and men like 
 them have done their utmost, and made a gallant fight. My own 
 position is clear enough. I have supported Hayes because I believe 
 him to be honest and sincere. I am in the party and yet not of it, 
 and, personally, men like me may be moi'e benefited by its failure than 
 by its success. The time may then come when we shall be needed. 
 As long as the party continues to enjoy unbroken power such men 
 as I are treated with no consideration, and indeed little respect. 
 But I earnestly hope to see Hayes elected. I saw him several times 
 when at Columbus. He is an educated, cultivated gentleman, and 
 his wife is a charming woman. We had much pleasant conversa- 
 tion, and if the thing turn out as I fear it will, I shall feel personal 
 regret and disappointment. But I have learned to take political 
 defeats philosophically, and shall accept this as I did McClure's 
 and Bristow's, — with serenity and composure. But if we defeat the 
 
" ON THE STUMP." 143 
 
 Democrats, — who in little persons have been too large for their 
 clothing for a week past, and in larger ones have been unendurable 
 from their boasting and noise, — I shall lift up a sound of rejoicing 
 that shall be heard afar. 
 
 " I could write you a column a mile long of my Western experi- 
 ences. Such things as this I saw : imagine a little, new town, per- 
 haps ten years old, its houses common, its streets full of dust. 
 Through the streets pours an unceasing procession of wagons, car- 
 riages, carts, buggies, and horsemen, with a mass of pedestrians on 
 both its flanks. Many of the wagons, etc., are decorated with 
 colored muslin, flowers, flags, and evergreens. Young girls dressed 
 in white, with tri-colored scarfs and garlands of country flowers, fill 
 them. Youths in a sort of improvised uniform ride in the crowd in 
 companies. Here there is a huge wagon filled with girls, who go 
 by singing, while from an elevated place in the centre a young 
 woman, gotten up in spangled dress as a Goddess of Liberty, waves 
 a flag or banner. There a log cabin with live 'coons on top, and 
 corn and pumpkins hanging from the eaves, is drawn along on 
 wheels, while two fellows dressed up are at the door, — one as an old 
 woman knitting, the other a man chopping wood. Every sort of 
 decoration and device is resorted to, and the ingenuity and versatility 
 of the people are remarkable. At length the procession reaches a 
 grove, where it winds about a speakers stand built between four 
 trees, and there in a little while, seated in a chair, — for his legs are 
 paralyzed, — Senator Morton talks to a countless multitude for two 
 hours or more. In the evening I speak to them as long from the 
 same place, by the light of torches ; or, if the night be stormy, in 
 the court-house or town-hall. 
 
 " General Harrison, our candidate, who ought to have been 
 elected, is a gentleman of ability and character, — a grandson, too, 
 of old Tippecanoe. Hence, of course, the log cabins and 'coons, 
 which will remind you of the campaign of 1840. Here are some 
 facts to interest you. There were made during the last week of the 
 campaign in Indiana, by gentlemen from all parts of the country, 
 — invited by the State committee, — eight hundred and thirty-eight 
 speeches in each of the counties of the State. Those made by candi- 
 dates or volunteers were too numerous to be counted. At one place 
 the crowd that came to hear Governor Morton — but remained to 
 hear us both — was estimated to be twelve thousand, and at Indiau- 
 
 * 
 
144 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 apolis the torchlight procession had five thousand torches in line, 
 many of them borne by lawyers and merchants and business men of 
 standing ; our carriage, drawn by four horses, was escorted by about 
 three hundred cavalry, or mounted torch-bearers, and through the 
 street of the city we moved in the glare of continuous fireworks. 
 When I rose to speak afterwards at the base-ball grounds, it seemed 
 to me that I overlooked a lake of fire in Avhich ten thousand red- 
 shir ted men were striving to keep afloat. 
 
 "In this State the features of the campaign are tamer; but at 
 Gettysburg I had an enormous meeting and a very enthusiastic one. 
 Anthony Iliggins presided at Wilmington in the opera-house, 
 which was packed. L. and P. and P. went down with me, and we 
 dined at Tony's bachelor quarters, and supped after my speech at 
 a friend's, — Mr. Buck's. At Burlington I spoke to a crowd packed 
 into the old lyceum, such as neither Signor Blitz nor Dr. Valentine 
 nor Mungandaus, the Chippewa chieftain, ever drew ; and when I 
 spoke of what I had seen on the stage on which I stood, and de- 
 scribed the latter scalping his fallen enemy, and, amid a profuse 
 spilling of red-flannel blood, braining him with a brand-new toma- 
 hawk purchased for the occasion at Page & Thomas's, and decorated 
 with eagle feathers wrung from a turkey that might have hung in 
 state in the old market-house in Union Street, many a man in the 
 audience remembered things he had not thought of perhaps for 
 twenty years. So much, then, for this matter of the stump. I know 
 you will be amused to hear these things." 
 
 In describing one of his Western talks, he says : " I 
 delivered last night a speech to a crowd of between three 
 and four thousand in the Capitol Square. Of course, in 
 the actual delivery I varied it with remarks and ' stories,' 
 which are omitted in the report." His address at Columbus, 
 Ohio, September 26, 1876, — one (as he said) of twenty-two, — 
 would serve as a good specimen of these campaign speeches. 
 It draws the lines of party politics with bold strokes. It 
 reviews the financial question acutely ; the political situa- 
 tion of the South is seriously and yet candidly treated; 
 and, lastly, the subject of governmental reform of the civil 
 
CONTEST FOR THE PHILADELPHIA MAYORALTY. 145 
 
 service is discussed in a way that convinces one tliat the 
 speaker is not a merely theoretic but a practical reformer. 
 
 At the beginning of the year 1877 the Reformers were 
 a<rain at work concentratins; their efforts on a nomination for 
 the mayoralty of Philadelphia. Both William S. Stokley 
 and Joseph L. Caveu were prominent and honored Repub- 
 licans, but the latter was run as an independent candidate, 
 sustained by Republicans, Democrats, Liberals, and all 
 shades of Reformers. He had made a decided record 
 against municipal extravagance and corruption, and had 
 done faithful work in building up a powerful public senti- 
 ment in favor of retrenchment, economy, and a general 
 reform in finance and the public service. A great meeting 
 of citizens and tax-payers was held at Horticultural Hall, 
 under the auspices of the Reform Club, on the evening 
 of January 20, 1877, William Welsh, Esq., in the chair. 
 Several gentlemen spoke, though Mr. Brown's was the prin- 
 cipal address of the occasion, and, by some of his friends, 
 was considered the most powerful political speech he ever 
 made. Its closing sentences were solemn in their simple 
 impressiveness : 
 
 " My countrymen : 'Time makes no pauses in his march.' The 
 moments are swiftly passing, and you who make up this mighty 
 multitude will presently have scattered to your homes. Great 
 opportunities come but once and stay but a little while. Pays 
 quickly make the weeks, and soon this battle will be lost or won. 
 Change is ever going on about us, and you who listen, and I who 
 speak, shall in brief time pass from the stage on which we are to-day 
 the actors, and our places be taken by our own children. Let it not 
 then be written, that while the sounds of your great festival still 
 lingered in the air, ere yet that pleasant city which Penn founded, 
 where Jefi'erson wrote, and Washington lived and Franklin died, 
 had filled her second century, self-government was already an out- 
 cast, and true liberty could find no stone to pillow her head. Let 
 
146 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BRO WN. 
 
 tliein rather say that then, as always, in every crisis of her history, 
 though leaders were weak and parties wanting, the heart of the 
 people did not falter, and the sons of those who had so often pro- 
 tected others still had the courage to protect themselves." 
 
 As this is the last of his public efforts in the Avork of 
 municipal reform, it should be emphatically stated that its 
 effect upon public opinion both at the moment and onward 
 was great. It has been declared by a prominent public 
 man whose opinion is of great weight, that the local Reform 
 movement in Philadelphia began and ended with Henry 
 Armitt Brown. He certainly embodied the best there was 
 in it, and his mantle has fallen upon no successor. Would 
 that his example might continue to be influential, so that 
 he might be, as it were, the founder or the type of a race 
 of politicians in this country who, keeping themselves pure 
 from personal aims, might make politics the noblest of 
 sciences ! Then something like a broad impulse might be 
 given to public affairs, and a theory of national govern- 
 ment might be carried out, which would put the labored 
 absolutistic systems of a Stein or a Bismarck, colossal as 
 they are, to the blush. 
 
 During these busy years of public life his early friends, 
 and his college friends especially, were not forgotten. One 
 of these during this period came to Philadelphia in a state 
 of despondency so profound that it ended in mental de- 
 rangement, or something nearly bordering upon it, so that 
 he became an inmate for six weeks of the Pennsylvania 
 Asylum. During that time Mr. Brown visited him con- 
 stantly, sometimes every day, talking with him, encouraging 
 him, amusing him, fairly lifting him out of his dreadful 
 condition by the force of his indomitable affectionate will, 
 so that he was, mainly, as it would seem, through this in- 
 strumentality, restored to his normal state. One closely 
 
SPEECH ENDORSING HAYES'S ADMINISTRATION. 147 
 
 related to the poor sufferer, during this trying period writes: 
 
 " As one of 's dearest friends I thought it my turn to 
 
 render thanks for your great kindness to him. We all feel 
 most tenderly grateful to you, and deeply appreciate that 
 noble friendship which prompts you to take upon yourself 
 
 so much trouble for his sake. desires me most heartily 
 
 to express her thanks to you for your labor and success in 
 persuading him to send his letter, — a truly 'great thing' for 
 him to do, and no one else could have induced him to do it. 
 I think that ' Harry Brown' is the only link which binds 
 him to what is pleasant, and to life." 
 
 At a meeting called by the Union League to endorse the 
 administration of President Hayes, held March 12, 1877, Mr. 
 Brown made a short speech, in the course of which, consid- 
 ering his political status, these very generous words occur : 
 
 " I ain no prophet, and political prophecy is the most dangerous 
 of all. But I have no fears for this government or people. I am 
 one of the youngest in this company, but I have seen extraordinary 
 things. If I look back less than a year in point of time, I behold 
 enough. I have seen in that short space the most marvellous dis- 
 plays of patriotic spirit and common sense. I have seen two great 
 parties alike demanding a safe and honorable policy in their plat- 
 forms, and expressing in their candidates, each as •well as it was 
 able, its idea of Reform. I have seen a long and heated contest 
 followed by four months of uncertainty and doubt as to who should 
 be our ruler and what the controlling power in our government. I 
 have seen a free people, where suffrage is universal and liberty ab- 
 solute, remain tranquil and self-controlled in the midst of things 
 that might have shaken to pieces the strongest despotism. I have 
 seen forty millions of freemen intrusting to fifteen individuals the 
 question who should govern them for four years to come. I have 
 seen those fifteen persons decide by a majority of one that he should 
 be chief magistrate who claimed to be chosen by the smallest ma- 
 jority possible in the electoral college, — a single vote ; and those 
 forty millions yield a perfect obedience to the law. I have seen that 
 
148 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 man, standing uncovered in the presence of the people, declare him- 
 self their servant rather than his party's, — the lover of his country 
 rather than himself. I see him to-day, in the Presidential chair, 
 proclaim a broad and generous policy ; a brave, benevolent, consist- 
 ent statesmanship, fulfilling the definition of Edmund Burke, that 
 he is the true statesman who ' unites the ability to improve with the 
 disposition to preserve.' " 
 
 In the crisis immediately succeeding the election, Mr. 
 Brown, with other prominent politicians, had been "inter- 
 viewed." He was modest in giving his opinion, but while 
 fully prepared to support a legitimate decision either way, 
 he was decided in his belief that Hayes had been duly 
 elected. He thought that both parties were not without 
 blame, tliat no man or party could afford to profit by a 
 fraud, and that parties themselves were not an end, but 
 only a means to an end, — the prosperity and honor of the 
 country. The laws must be sustained at all events. The 
 constitutional forms of law must be carried out. There 
 must be a conscientious settlement of the electoral question. 
 He wished the electoral college were abolished, but it was 
 not, and its rules must be implicitly followed. He did not 
 fear the local trouble that threatened Xho. Presidential in- 
 auguration. A system which could stand the strain it was 
 then undergoing could stand anything. " We have plenty 
 of patriots," he said, " if we have few statesmen, and, 
 after all, the situation doesn't demand statesmanship as 
 much as it does common sense and self-control. I don't 
 think it perilous, because, though I'm not very old, I've 
 lived long enough to have seen an abundance of those 
 qualities in my countrymen." 
 
 These activities were interrupted by another visit to 
 Europe in the summer and autumn of 1877. During this 
 journey he wrote many letters for the newspapers, in which 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE ''PENNSYLVANIA." 149 
 
 he spoke of European politics and described prominent 
 men wliom he saw. One of these letters is taken up with 
 a graphic portraiture of Thiers ; another with an account 
 of a French election, and how the voting is done in Paris ; 
 but we will quote from these letters only his narrative of 
 an eventful and perilous passage home on the steamship 
 " Pennsylvania/' during the early days of November. 
 
 " I think it worth while to try and give the Times some account 
 of the recent remarkable voyage of the 'Pennsylvania.' We left 
 Liverpool about 4 p.m. on the 31st of October. The night before 
 had been dark and stormy, and when evening fell, as we came out 
 of the Mersey, the prospect was not favorable. But the next day 
 broke pleasantly enough, and there was nothing in the western sky 
 as we steamed out of Queenstown harbor and along the Irish coast 
 to suggest the dangers that were in store for us. Friday, the 2d of 
 November, was a pleasant day, and we spent most of the time on 
 deck. Our company was not a large one. Exclusive of the servants 
 and children, I think we numbered but twenty-five. Friday night 
 when I went to bed we were steaming along at eleven or twelve 
 knots, with the sky partially overcast and a stiff but not unfavorable 
 breeze. During the darkness we encountered the storm. I thought 
 the old ship was rolling rather heavily when I awoke on the morn- 
 ing of the 3d, but I did not imagine the true state of things. Those 
 who had been on deck told me after breakfast that it was stormy 
 and wet up there, and I amused myself below. About three o'clock, 
 however, I concluded to go up and take a look. 
 
 " The sky was full of clouds, angry and savage-looking, though 
 there were patches of blue sky to be seen, and through one of them 
 the sun was shining brightly. But the wind was dead ahead and 
 blowing a gale. I stuck my head out, and it seemed as if the wind 
 would blow it off my shoulders. The sea was magnificent. In five 
 previous voyages I had never seen it so high. Great waves, longer 
 than the ship, and, as it seemed me, higher than the boats on her 
 sides, followed one another swiftly, tossing their white-caps into 
 spray as they split in two on both sides of us. The ' Pennsylvania' 
 would rise up like a living creature over the tops of the highest, 
 and then rush down into the boiling valley that lay between them 
 
150 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 with incredible speed. One after another I could see great ridges of 
 water approaching us at a terrible rate with strange regularity, and 
 each time as they struck our bow the ship would shake herself and 
 make a rush and pass over them in safety. I hung on to the side 
 of the door and watched the waves break at the bow, and sometimes 
 come rushing back over the deck, with intensest interest. Presently 
 the chief officer, Mr. Dodge, came sliding along, and stopped for a 
 minute's chat. 'A heavy westerly gale,' he called it, and 'a very 
 bad sea,' and presently he slid oiF to his duty and I went down- 
 stairs to dinner. Very little was said about the weather at the meal, 
 which was pleasant enough in spite of the rolling, and after an 
 evening passed in chat we all turned in, as we thought, to sleep. 
 But by ten or eleven o'clock slumber was impossible. The motion 
 was a combination of all that is disagreeable in the movement of a 
 ship. At one minute the vessel rolled, at another she pitched, now 
 she seemed to be climbing skyward, and in an instant pitched into 
 an abyss, to be brought up suddenly with a terrible thump. By 
 midnight I felt sure that the sea which I had watched with such 
 admiration was nothing to what we now encountered. Slowly the 
 hours dragged along, and we struggled through them. 
 
 " At last day came, and with it an increase of fury in the storm. 
 Of course there was no going on deck and little comfort in the 
 ' social hall,' for the windows and doors had to be tightly shut. All 
 day we watched and waited, comforting ourselves with the thought 
 that so furious a storm could not last many hours, but the wind and 
 waves knew better. Sunday evening repeated the torments of the 
 night before, but about midnight the wind went down somewhat, and 
 Captain Harris, with characteristic thoughtfulness, sent word to the 
 ladies of the fact. After that, for a few hours, almost every one 
 slept a little; but Monday morning broke in storm and disappoint- 
 ment. As if it had only been resting to renew the attack more 
 furiously than ever, the gale came on with daybreak. From that 
 time until sundown, and from that till Tuesday morning and all 
 Tuesday and the night that followed, it raged with fury. On AYed- 
 nesday morning it had long ceased to be a gale and become a hurri- 
 cane. The wind (they estimated on the bridge) blew with a velocity of 
 one hundred miles an hour, and the sea was lifted up into mountains. 
 All that day and the next, until Friday morning, the 9th of Novem- 
 ber, it blew a hurricane. It is as impossible for me to describe those 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE '' PENNSYLVANIA." 151 
 
 da5''s as it is for me to forget them. They were dark and terrible. 
 From morning till night, from sundown until daybreak, for six 
 nights and days, there was no change. As one looked out from the 
 windows of the social hall, or through the tightly-fastened ports, the 
 scene was indescribably awful. Beneath a leaden sky, far as one 
 could see, raged the tossing ocean. Without a lull the wind howled 
 and hissed through the rigging, and lashed the sea into a mass of 
 foam. In every direction, on all sides, the waves broke, dashing the 
 spray until the air seemed full of rain-like clouds. 
 
 " So the stormy days crept by and dragged the gloomier nights 
 after them. About ten o'clock on the sixth night, — Thursday, — 
 when all hands in the cabin had retired, not to sleep, but to watch 
 for da3'light, the ship gave an unusually heavy lurch to the star- 
 board, and for the hundredth time shipped a heavy sea. In a second 
 followed a crash that shook her from stem to stern, and sounded like 
 a thunderbolt. It was made up of three distinct sounds in one, — 
 the dull fall of a heavy weight on the deck, the splintering and 
 crushing of wood and glass, and the pouring of a large stream of 
 water into the cabin. It was a deafening, terrifying sound. I 
 bounded into the saloon and beheld a memorable sight. Beside my 
 door sat a lady with her hands clasped together, gasping with fear. 
 Across the saloon were three others as white as a sheet, in various 
 attitudes of alarm ; the startled face of one of the men appeared at 
 the door on my side of the ship; and down the companion-way, as 
 the vessel rolled to port, poured a huge torrent of water. In a mo- 
 ment we rolled to starboard, the stream stopped pouring in and 
 dashed furiously against the tables and piano, wetting me in an in- 
 stant above the ankles, and splashing to the ceiling. Half a minute 
 later everybody was in the saloon, — no one had apparently undressed 
 and gone to bed, — and for a little while we were busy in picking up 
 our luggage from the floors of the cabins, into which the water at 
 once penetrated. The unhappy stewards rushed to and fro, bailing 
 out and mopping up the water, and in half an hour the wet carpets 
 were taken up and the water dried from the floor, the broken win- 
 dows, through which the water had come, nailed up and closed, and 
 nothing remained for us but to talk the thing over and wait for day- 
 light, I must s.ay that it was a plucky company, — no tears were 
 shed and no hysterics indulged in by the ladies, and, as far as I saw, 
 every man was quiet and ready and self-possessed. But it certainly 
 
152 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 was a startling incident, coming to us as it did after so many daj'S 
 and nights of anxiety and apprehension. 
 
 " * "We had taken on board,' said one of the officers to me, ' a 
 hundred seas as bad as that on that day alone, but they struck us 
 fair.' This one came as the wind began to fall a little on the star- 
 board quarter. It struck the right end of the bridge and carried 
 away the canvas covering, broke in and ruined the second boat, 
 lifted the third boat out of the davits and hurled it into a thousand 
 pieces on top of the skylight over the engines, twisted the fourth 
 boat out of the davits (breaking one of the latter, a piece of ham- 
 mered iron four and a half inches thick, like a pipe-stem) and 
 smashed it to bits against the corner of the social hall, breaking two 
 windows and letting in the water, and, besides damaging two other 
 life-rafts, tore the last one on the starboard side out of its place and 
 laid it snugly over the skylight on the saloon. Omitting details, this 
 was the result of one wave. There were some of us who, as we 
 crawled about on deck next day and witnessed the destruction, 
 could not help thinking what might have happened to us had any- 
 thing in the steering apparatus broken or become disarranged. 
 When Friday morning came the wind had fallen greatly, though 
 the sea was still high, and we had some music in the cabin. The 
 storm seemed at last to have spent its force, and our spirits rose 
 with the barometer. About ten o'clock we dispersed, the ship had 
 begun to run smoothly, and, for one, I expected to get a nap, the 
 first for a long time. All had become quiet, when suddenly the 
 engine stopped. I sprang up and climbed the stairway. ' A steamer 
 is signalling us,' said a fellow-passenger. Looking out, I saw a 
 curious light close by on the port side, and then hurried down for 
 my hat and overcoat, for it was wet and very cold. When I got up 
 again in a minute afterward the light was close under the stern. 
 'It's a wreck,' said a dozen voices in the darkness, and then faintly 
 through the blustering storm came the cry, ' Steamer, ahoy !' 
 
 " As I crept along the deck, feeling my way, I could see a bright 
 light burning close to the water's edge. Captain Harris commanded 
 silence, and called in stentorian tones, 'Have you got a boat?' No 
 sound came back but the roaring of the wind, and the light grew 
 fainter and more distant. 'Close to the water's edge,' 'the masts 
 torn out of her,' ' a big wreck,' passed in whispers as the captain 
 tried to make her out with the glass, — and we stood in a group near 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE ''PENNSYLVANIA." I53 
 
 the wheel-house watching the fast-fading light. Suddenly it disap- 
 peared, suggesting to my mind a horrible possibility. 'Call for a 
 volunteer crew,' came from the captain's lips, and he ran forward to 
 the bridge. In a few moments the wreck's light again appeared, 
 faint and flickering, and where we stood holding on to the bulwarks 
 we could hear Captain Harris's voice giving orders even above the 
 whistling of the wind. In a few moments the forward boat on the 
 starboard side swung clear. Mr. Shackford, the second officer, and 
 the six seamen who had promptly volunteered, were on board ; the 
 order was given, and down the frail thing descended with them into 
 the black, seething abyss below. For an instant I thought they 
 would disappear beneath the ship as she rolled heavily over on them. 
 But the next they were tossed in the air as high as the bulwarks. 
 A faint light made them visible to us as they pulled for tlieir lives. 
 Once, twice, thrice, as we watched them, they were sucked back 
 under the great ship's side, as if doomed to be crushed beneath her, 
 but at last a huge wave caught them, and away they went. And 
 Heaven favored that gallant crew, and Captain Harris understood 
 his business. By keeping the ship in motion and moving her 
 around in a circle he got to leeward of the wreck again, and in 
 about an hour the boat came sweeping back toward us again. 
 Around the bow she swept and away off into the darkness, whirled 
 about as if she were a feather ; at last they managed, after several 
 efforts, to catch the rope, and one by one as the life-boat rose to the 
 sea they were picked out and set firmly on deck again. They had 
 got near enough to hear voices on the wreck cry, ' Come alongside.' 
 "No one had asked to be taken off nor called for provisions, and 
 the sea ran too high to get near, so Mr. Shackford answered that we 
 would lay to till morning, and after trying to communicate further 
 returned to the ' Pennsylvania.' I pass over the inconveniences of 
 the night that followed. Its physical discomforts Avere the worst of 
 the voyage, as we lay till daybreak rolling slowly to and fro in the 
 trough of that tremendous sea. At last the long-delayed morning 
 began slowly to break, and the horrible blackness of the sea and 
 sky gave place to a cold and cruel gray. But with the hidden sun 
 the wind began to rise. By seven o'clock it was blowing another 
 gale, and the impatient sea was being whipped into its old fury 
 again. There, as we steamed towards her, was the wreck, a trim, 
 staunch-looking bark of thi-ee or four hundred tons, riding the waves 
 
 II 
 
154 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 buoyantly, with two short jury-masts bearing a storm-sail, and hold- 
 ing her well to the wind. Except for the disproportionate shortness 
 of her masts, she looked to my landsman's eye all right. Two or 
 three men could be seen on deck, and the smoke that came out of 
 the stove-pipe in the cabin roof told that she had the comfort of a 
 fire. But we could do no more than see her. Help her we could 
 not. No boat could live in such a sea, and we lost our fourth boat 
 in the attempt. As a last effort, about ten o'clock. Captain Harris 
 got as near as he dared go in such a sea, and launched a life-raft 
 with a long cable, hoping that he could get it towards the wreck by 
 the aid of the sea. But repeated efforts availed little, and by eleven 
 o'clock in the morning our own safety compelled us to head to sea. 
 The weather thickened up, and presently we lost sight of the unfor- 
 tunate vessel. Further efforts were useless, and we crept slowly 
 towards the westward. 
 
 " Such was this memorable voyage. Of the severity and length 
 of these storms there seemed to be among the officers but one 
 opinion. Rarely had any one seen so fierce a gale, never so bad a 
 sea, and the way both lasted was beyond precedent. Had the ' Penn- 
 sylvania' not been the best of ships, exceptionally staunch and strong, 
 and from her peculiar model riding the waves with wonderful buoy- 
 ancy, — and had she not been commanded and officered as she was by 
 men of great experience and skill, and extraordinary courage and 
 endurance, her career would undoubtedly have ended in those words, 
 'lost at sea,' or 'never heard of,' which stand against the names of 
 many a noble ship, and are the curt epitaph of many a gallant 
 company. Henceforth these words will have for me a new signifi- 
 cance. I think I can imagine now, perhaps, some of those unseen 
 tragedies, — the anxiety, the hope, the sudden crash, the gallant 
 struggles, the roaring wind, the cruel, overwhelming sea, the wild 
 confusion, the terror, the despair, the short but awful agony. Cer- 
 tain it is, that never did my eyes rest on a pleasanter sight than 
 when, on Thursday morning last, I stood on the deck of the ' Penn- 
 sylvania' and beheld a broad and noble river flowing majestically to 
 the sea between long lines of low and level shore, and before me the 
 spires and steeples of a placid city beginning to rise out of the 
 marshes and meadows of League Island. For not stately London, 
 nor brilliant Paris, nor quaint old Nuremberg, not the green fields 
 and woods of England, nor the magnificent scenery of the Alps, nor 
 
BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. I55 
 
 all the hills and dales that lie between, could offer me the charms 
 that dwell in those narrow streets, with their monotonous rows of 
 formal, pleasant homes, which, but a week before, I had more than 
 once thought I should never see again." 
 
 Mr. Brown, in fulfilment of an invitation received some 
 time before his visit to Europe, immediately after his return, 
 quietly, but diligently, set himself about preparing his 
 Burlino-ton bi-centennial Historical Address. His labors 
 and investigations were indefatigable. He strove to com- 
 bine amplitude of detail with accuracy, and no hound ever 
 tracked his prey more unremittingly than he followed up 
 an historical fact, however minute, that added life to his 
 history. He went to first sources. His accustomed seat 
 in an alcove of the Philadelphia Historical Society Library 
 is pointed out, where for days and weeks he labored in the 
 compilation of his materials. He spared himself no pains. 
 He read extensively and yet selected with severest care. 
 He corresponded widely with those from whom he could 
 derive the least information. Days of incessant research 
 were considered by him as not lost if they brought but the 
 slightest historic matter to his store. Family memorials as 
 well as public documents were ransacked. The result was 
 something of rare and permanent value. 
 
 The opening services of the occasion are thus described 
 in the Philadelphia Weekly Times of December 15, 1877 : 
 
 " The old Quaker town of Burlington, New Jersey, 
 celebrated on Thursday, the 6th of December, the two 
 hundredth anniversary of its formation. The morning 
 opened clear and cool. The river-banks and pine-lands 
 gave up their population, and Burlington's own seven 
 thousand people let it be known that they could act the 
 host with the old-fashioned Fourth of July spirit. The 
 one hundred guns sounded faintly in the dawn because a 
 
156 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 stiff breeze swept uj) the curve in the Delaware and bore 
 inland all the noise of the early morning. Chimes from 
 St. Mary's and all the steeples of the academic city were 
 half drowned by the flap and flutter of the decorations 
 which stuck around everywhere, from stores, dwellings, 
 and trees. The rallying-point for the crowd was at the 
 intersection of the two wide thoroughfares. Broad and 
 Main Streets, and when, at ten o'clock. General E. Burd 
 Grubb, the marshal, and his aides brought it into order, 
 the procession was formed and moved out of Main Street. 
 Following the cavalcade of citizens came the militia com- 
 panies of Burlington, Beverly, Camden, and Mount Holly, 
 the fire companies in gorgeous array, and a number of civil 
 societies. Meanwhile, the crowd enjoyed itself on the 
 sidewalks, and bands of young men in fantastic attire 
 wandered about and added to the excitement and the 
 racket. The chui-ch-bells rang out more clearly above the 
 din about noon, because the wind blew less sharply, and 
 the mid-day salute quickened the step of such of the tramp- 
 ing soldier boys as were in earshot. 
 
 "At three o'clock the commemorative services were 
 begun in Birch's new opera-house. Steady- going, well-to- 
 do folks of Burlington, Trenton, Mount Holly, Beverly, 
 Camden, and many Philadelphians formed the audience. 
 On the stage were a dozen circles of distinguished gentle- 
 men. The Right Rev. William H. Odenheimer, Bishop 
 of Northern New Jersey, sat in his episcopal robes in the 
 chair of honor. By his side was Vicar-General George 
 Herbert Doane, of Newark, and behind them were ex- 
 Governor Parker, tall and sturdy, ex-Governor Newell, 
 Congressman J. Howard Pugh, Hon. John F. Babcock, 
 a score of well-known clergymen, and members of the State 
 Legislature and the Burlington City Council. 
 
BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. I57 
 
 " Bishop Odenheimer made a short prayer. A musical 
 piece suggesting the heroism of the early Qualcer pioneers 
 was sung by the Orpheus Glee Club, and the president of 
 the bi-centennial committee, Congressman Pugh, stepped 
 forward. The address of the day, he said, belonged to 
 another man, one pre-eminently fitted to make it, yet he 
 would congratulate his townsmen upon the unity of inter- 
 est, fervor, and enthusiasm which was manifestly charac- 
 teristic of the occasion. Dr. Pugh said: 'And now here is 
 one whom we claim as a Burlington boy, for most of the 
 time since his boyhood, at least, he has made his summer 
 home with us, Henry Armitt Brown, Esq.'" 
 
 The address itself must be estimated upon its own 
 merits. After its delivery, notices eulogistic and letters 
 congratulatory poured in. We give a few of these letters, 
 dated two or three months later, from those at a distance, 
 whose judgment might be presumed to be cooler, in ac- 
 knowledgment of printed copies of the address, and which 
 naturally find place here : 
 
 " Boston, March 19, 1878. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Brown, — I have read with as much 
 delight as instruction your eloquent and noble Burlington 
 oration. I was especially impressed with the passage re- 
 lating to the Quaker petitioners to Parliament, who offered 
 themselves as hostages for their imprisoned brethren. I 
 agree with you in thinking it one of the most pathetic 
 instances in English history. But the whole of your ad- 
 dress is admirable in spirit, in tone, in command of novel 
 facts. 
 
 " Renewing my thanks to you for enabling me to indulge 
 in the luxury of reading such an oration, 
 
 " I remain, very sincerely yours, 
 
 "E. P. Whipple." 
 
158 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " Boston, March 19, 1878. 
 " My dear Sir, — I thank you for the pleasure I have 
 had in reading your very elaborate and interesting oration. 
 Plymouth Rock, we shall have to confess, has not sent forth 
 all the heroes, or called forth all the eloquence. I only 
 wish that as much knowledge, as much taste, as much lively 
 description could be found in all the addresses in which 
 the anniversaries of our historical epochs are commemorated. 
 " Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " O. W. Holmes." 
 
 " Boston, March 25, 1878. 
 "Dear Mr. Brown, — I thank you for sending me 
 your oration on the 'Settlement of Burlington.' 
 
 " I had skimmed it over in the newspaper, but I have 
 given it a worthier perusal in the pamphlet. 
 
 " It is an interesting and eloquent discourse, and I con- 
 gratulate you on your success. I hope you will have 
 spared a copy for our Massachusetts Historical Society. 
 " Believe me, with kiud regards to your wife, 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "Robert C. Winthrop. 
 
 " P.S. — I did not fail to observe with interest the classi- 
 cal tribute to the memory of your father," 
 
 "Oak Knoll, Danvers, Mass., March 26, 1878. 
 
 " Hon. H. a. Brown. 
 
 " Dear Friend, — I have read with great satisfaction 
 thy instructive and eloquent address. As a member of the 
 Society of Friends, I heartily thank thee for it. I hojie 
 the perusal of it will have a good effect upon a class in our 
 
BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. 159 
 
 Society wlio make it a point to disparage and undervalue 
 the early Quakers. 
 
 " With high regard, thy friend, 
 
 " John G. Whittier." 
 
 " Cambridge, March 26, 1878. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Brown, — I have received and read with 
 great interest and pleasure your oration on the ' Settlement 
 of Burlington.' 
 
 " It is a very stirring and eloquent production, and very 
 picturesque in its details. 
 
 " Please accept my cordial thanks for your thought of 
 me, and for making me one of your hearers at second hand, 
 — that is to say, one of your attentive and sympathizing 
 readers. 
 
 " I remember Burlington in the old stage-coach and 
 steamboat days ; and remember passing the entrance to 
 Joseph Bonaparte's grounds. It was in May; and the 
 scenery seemed, and still seems to me in memory, very 
 lovely. Your words bring it all back to me. It is like 
 presenting me a bouquet. 
 
 " Be kind enough to give my best regards and remem- 
 brance to Mrs. Brown, and believe me, 
 "Yours very truly, 
 
 "Henry W. Longfellow." 
 
 "Washington, D. C, March 28, 1878. 
 
 "My dear Sir, — I have received your oration and 
 have read it, as I always do what you write, with great 
 interest. 
 
 "You inquire respecting unprinted accounts of the 
 winter at Valley Forge. I apprehend that there Ls very 
 little, or nothing, to be added to the printed material that 
 
160 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 relates to that subject. I do not know of anything relat- 
 ing to it in the public archives that is not already before 
 the world. Among my own manuscript collections, I have 
 one journal of the time, and at least one allusion to it, 
 made by German oflScers who were there. These shall be 
 perfectly at your service if you chance to come to Wash- 
 ington ; but I am bound to say there is nothing in them 
 which would repay the time and trouble of the journey. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 "Geo. Baxcrofi." 
 
 These letters may possibly appear to be the courteous 
 expressions of those who knew how to say kind things to 
 young men of worth and promise ; but that they were 
 more, and were genuine words of praise, we think the ad- 
 dress will show, when candidly read. The charge of pro- 
 lixity does not hold against this oration. Its style, while 
 finished, is not highly rhetorical. It is in quiet good taste 
 as befitting the peaceful old Quaker town about which its 
 loving memories linger. It has more of the unpretending 
 plainness of perfect speech than is commonly found. It is 
 not woixly, but terse and solid with facts. Whole periods 
 of history are analyzed and com^irehensively summed up. 
 W^ithout dwelling minutely upon them, an event, a char- 
 acter, a scene, are painted in a few vigorous strokes. The 
 address has that picturesque life and freshne&s which is the 
 result of the most thorough study, and of a genuine interest 
 on the part of the speaker. As it draws near its close, there 
 are touches of delicate pathos quite inimitable, and best 
 understood by those to whom it was spoken. It is an emi- 
 nently sensible address throughout, — homespun, we would 
 call it, if it were not so beautiful ; — and, above all, there 
 is an appreciation of what is genuinely noble in principle 
 
POLITICAL QUESTIONS. \Ql 
 
 Aveakencd by no conventional narrowness or mere senti- 
 mental ism. The manly ring of righteousness is in it. 
 It exhibits the character of one who sees the true great- 
 ness of the beginnings of a State which is established in 
 justice. 
 
 Political matters at that time, when the financial ques- 
 tion, the Southern question, civil reform, and other great 
 subjects awaiting the action of a new administration were 
 agitated, mingled with professional business, seem to have 
 taken up the early part of the last year of Mr. Brown's 
 life. He was, as one of his friends writes, "still dreaming 
 of reform." He held on to that idea, not disheartened 
 for a moment, urging it constantly upon such men as Mr. 
 Schurz, Mr. Bristow, and other leading politicians of his 
 own school, and pouring out to them what he had in his 
 heart. He would do his part to give a decided trend to 
 the political current. He was earnest in the hope of the 
 advancement of the main object of his life, believing as he 
 did that government itself was the best instrument of polit- 
 ical reform. He had indeed no Quixotic conception of 
 perfect justice being done, but he thought that an organi- 
 zation already established — viz., the State — was one of the 
 most powerful means of securing the redress and protection 
 of the rights of all, and the greatest good of the greatest 
 number, which is the end of true government. He had 
 more confidence in men than others had, and he wished to 
 make trial of all wdio promised anything. At the same 
 time he was keen-sighted, and was not deceived by appear- 
 ances. He was already suspicious of some " whose leader- 
 ship is no rebuke to wrong even if it does not discourage 
 the right." He prophesied " the biggest fight, within six 
 months of Governor Hayes's inaugural, that ever tried the 
 
162 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 courage of a President." He longed for " the more posi- 
 tive assertion of the reform principle, which would give 
 courage to honest men in the nation." He thought, with 
 a few others, that " bold leadership" and '' heroic treat- 
 ment" were sometimes required. These, and not "good 
 intentions" alone, could inspire courage at a time when 
 national affairs looked so dark. 
 
 On the questions of hard money, of Southern pacifica- 
 tion, and kindred topics, he tliought the government at 
 that time had made a fair record, or, at least, had made a 
 fair show, but there were peculiar difficulties arising from 
 organized opposition in the Senate, and feeble support in 
 the House, on the question of the reform of the civil ser- 
 vice, and here he felt that a united effort by the purest and 
 best men in the nation, and especially in the Republican 
 party, was demanded. He was restless under the silence 
 and supineness of the Reform party in the land, and, if he 
 had lived, his voice would have rung out in unmistakable 
 tones, urging on what he considered to be the cause of civil 
 purification. 
 
 On the subject of the tariff Mr. Brown differed with 
 many good men, and with some of his best friends, and, 
 true to his Yale training, was strongly inclined (though not 
 yet entirely given over) to free-trade views, as being, on the 
 whole, better than even a temporary system of protection 
 which necessitates governmental intermeddling with trade ; 
 in fact, he had been chosen, about a year before, to the 
 membership of the Cobden Club, London, and had been 
 asked to contribute a paper upon free trade. 
 
 At a bar meeting held March 14, 1878, in memory of 
 an eminent lawyer, James H. Castle, Esq., Mr. Brown was 
 one of the speakers. His remarks were brief but to the 
 point. He said : 
 
SPEECH IN MEMORY OF JAMES H. CASTLE. 1(33 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, — Before these resolutions are put to a vote I 
 want to say a word. I have no wish to make a speech, for I am not 
 unmindful that that privilege belongs to those who are older at the 
 bar and older in friendship with Mr. Castle than I can claim to 
 have been. But I grew up within the sunny circle which his nature 
 threw around him, and for more than a third of my lifetime I have 
 enjoyed a friendship with him as close as was possible, perhaps, be- 
 tween two men separated, in point of age, by more than a quarter 
 of a century. I should be sorry to mar the harmony of this most 
 harmonious meeting by any attempt to add words of mine to what 
 has been already said in eulogy of him, but the allusions made by 
 my friends, Mr. Morris and Judge Mitchell, to the melancholy pre- 
 diction written on his photograph, have suggested to me, as I sat 
 here, that I should tell you what happened when I saw him last. 
 Less than three weeks ago — a fortnight ago on Saturday evening — 
 I was told that Mr. Castle was in the parlor. AVhen I hurried 
 down-stairs he greeted me as heartily as ever, and told me that he 
 had heard that I was engaged in something in which perhaps he 
 could help me. He had, he said, a map drawn by an officer of La- 
 fayette's staff, of the retreat from Barren Hill, which he wanted me 
 to see. It was an original, and unique. I said I would call at his 
 house and get it. ' No,' he replied ; ' I will leave it at your office 
 on Monday morning as I go to mine.' I repeated that I had 
 rather call on him. ' Let me have my way about it,' he interrupted ; 
 and I acquiesced. He did not wait until Monday, but, characteris- 
 tically, brought the map and left it for me the next evening at my 
 door. I noticed that he spoke in a husky voice, as if he had a cold. 
 It was not that, he explained, but something which had begun to 
 grow in his throat and gave him trouble. He had just come from 
 his physicians, and, said he, ' They are going to cut my throat.' 
 He answered my anxious questions with a half-serious, half-jocular 
 manner that was natural to him, and presently arose to go. I went 
 with him to the door. As he stood for a moment on the steps he 
 turned, and, taking my hand in his, said, 'Well, I sha'n't see you 
 again, so we had better say good-by.' "Oh, Mr. Castle,' I exclaimed, 
 ' don't talk so !' ' Yes,' he repeated, ' you will never see me again. 
 Good-by, my boy ;' and, with a warm squeeze of my hand, he 
 passed quickly down the steps and vanished into the night. 
 
 " I know very well, sir, that the life of man is short. ' The life 
 
164 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 of man,' said the old Saxon thane, 'is like the flight of a sparrow in 
 the winter-time, that comes in at the open door, flutters for a mo- 
 ment in the firelight on the hearth, and, on a sudden, darts out 
 again into the icy darkness.' I may be the next one of this com- 
 pany to follow him whom we lament to-day. But should my life be 
 lengthened to the years of the venerable gentleman who sits before 
 me, I shall never forget that manly form as it stood there for a mo- 
 ment, for the last time, on my threshold. I shall never forget that 
 beautiful countenance and the warm grasp of that honest right 
 hand. I shall never forget that dead gentleman who was my friend; 
 and the tones of that prophetic farewell — for such it has sadly come 
 to be — touched a chord in my heart and memory that will ever 
 vibrate at the mention of his name." 
 
 Near the beginning of the last year of his life, Mr. 
 Brown had been asked to deliver an oration on the anni- 
 versary of the occupation of Valley Forge. The follow- 
 ing is a letter from Benson J. Lossing, Esq., who was 
 consulted by him upon this historic theme : 
 
 " The Ridge, Dover Plains, 
 "Dutchess Co., N. Y., April 1, 1878. 
 
 "My dear Sir, — Your esteemed favor of the 23d 
 March reached my desk during my absence from home, 
 and this is my excuse for seeming discourtesy in not 
 promptly responding. 
 
 " I really have no knowledge of facts concerning the 
 history or incidents of Valley Forge other than what may 
 be found in the books you have mentioned. I gathered 
 all I could find, at the time, for my ' Field-Book of the 
 Revolution,' and nothing new that seemed authentic has 
 fallen in my way since. 
 
 " I suppose the time chosen for your oration (June) im- 
 plies that the central historic point in your discourse will 
 be the departure of Washington from Valley Forge to 
 pursue Clinton across New Jersey. I have prepared a 
 
VALLEF FORGE ORATION. 165 
 
 paper for the June number of Harper''s 3fagazine on tlie 
 battle of Monmouth. It will be issued about the mid- 
 dle of May. I do not know that you will find much 
 that is new in it. I made brief extracts from a diary, 
 or rather an orderly book of a British officer, that was 
 found on the field of Monmouth after the battle. The 
 orderly book w^as deposited in the Historical Society 
 of Pennsylvania by Mr. Buckelew. Through Professor 
 Samuel Lock wood, of Freehold, New Jersey, I got per- 
 mission to make use of it, and Mr. John J. , of the 
 
 Historical Society of Pennsylvania, kindly sent it to me. 
 At the request of Mr. Buckelew I returned it to Professor 
 Lockwood, and I presume it has been sent back again to 
 the Historical Society. Have you ' The Treason of Major- 
 General Charles Lee,' by Dr. George H. Moore, late 
 librarian of the New York Historical Society? It casts 
 light upon the incident noted in my Field-Book of the 
 hesitation of Lee in taking the oath of allegiance at Valley 
 Forge, and of other incidents of his official career, to 
 which I have alluded in the paper for ' Harper.' 
 
 " I am sure the author of the oration at Burlington last 
 December, and at the Centennial Celebration of the meet- 
 ing of the First Continental Congress, needs no suggestions 
 from me as to the treatment of any subject. I cannot tell 
 you how much I have enjoyed the perusal of your Bur- 
 lington oration, not only as an historical address, but as a 
 literary composition. I am specially pleased with its pic- 
 tures of the Quaker settlers in that region, for I am of 
 Quaker descent on my mother's side, — Long Island settlers. 
 The oration must have been specially pleasing to the old 
 families of West Jersey, and particularly of Burlington, 
 because of its wealth of information upon local topics and 
 honored citizens. 
 
166 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " Your kind avowal of your appreciation of my ' Field- 
 Book of the Revolution' is very grateful to me, for it is an- 
 other testimonial added to many, that the object I had in 
 view in the peculiar construction of that work has been 
 accomplished, namely, to induce young people to read and 
 become acquainted with the period of our history which, 
 as Paine said, ' tried men's souls.' It gratifies me to know 
 that it turned the attention to that history of one so gifted, 
 patriotic, and zealous as Henry Armitt Brown. I have 
 placed your letter in the copy of the oration, which you 
 kindly sent me, as a legacy for my children. 
 
 " With sentiments of cordial esteem, 
 
 " I am, dear sir, your sincere friend, 
 
 " Benson J. Lossing." 
 
 This oration at Valley Forge, delivered June 19, 1878, 
 was the last of Mr. Brown's public efforts. He was, 
 physically, in no sort of condition to undertake it. His 
 system was run down by hard work, and it was only his 
 resolute will that enabled him to go through the labor and 
 excitement of the occasion. His brother, Frederick Brown, 
 Esq., gives this brief account of the day so far as it relates 
 to him personally : 
 
 " Early on the morning of the 19th June, 1878, I 
 met Hal at the Norristown Railroad depot, and we started 
 for Valley Forge. For forty-eight hours the rain had 
 poured down, but this morning was clear, though warm, 
 and the rain had freshened the earth and made all nature 
 rejoice. 
 
 " Arriving at Norristown, we found a carriage waiting for 
 us, and my brother enjoyed the drive of seven miles. It 
 rather improved his condition. After driving down to see 
 the review we took our lunch in the carriage, and then went 
 
VALLEY FORGE ORATION. 167 
 
 to Mr. Todd's mansion, where we were most kindly received, 
 and Hal had an hour's rest, and then to the tent. Three 
 hours elapsed, and then Governor Hartranft introduced the 
 orator of the day. 
 
 " He commenced, as was his usual practice, very slowly 
 and distinctly. His voice had not its usual power at first, 
 but gradually cleared, and after holding the audience com- 
 pletely in hand for some two hours, the last words were 
 delivered with immense effect, and in perfect stillness. 
 He turned, took three or four steps back to his chair, 
 dropped into it, and almost fainted. Then cheer on cheer 
 broke out, and a large number rushed forward to shake 
 hands with him ; but the first who neared him noticed his 
 condition, and one kind soul called out to his fellows, 
 ' Boys, this man is used up to-day. We'll wait till he is 
 better to shake hands with him ;' and the crowd fell back. 
 
 " Alas ! the day that he was better was never to arrive. 
 After he recovered sufficiently we started for Norristown, 
 and then took the cars again, two good friends of Hal's 
 accompanying us. 
 
 " When we reached his house it was 9.30 p.m., and he 
 was ready for bed. After one day's rest he commenced 
 writing the Monmouth Address, and finished it in bed on 
 the 28th of June, — being taken with typhoid fever from 
 which he never rallied, dying on the 21st of August, after 
 fifty-eight days of steady fight between natural strength 
 and science and the fever." 
 
 No one ever engaged an audience under greater diffi- 
 culties. In the first place his voice was impaired by a 
 cold, and then there was the constant banging of the band, 
 the cracking of board benches, the cries of venders of all 
 kinds of things, and the absence of any effective police 
 regulations. But, in spite of all, the interest was held for 
 
168 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 two hours unflagging, and without the slightest manifesta- 
 tion of weariness, to the end. A detailed narrative of the 
 scene and the oration has been written by a college friend. 
 From this paper, which was originally prepared to be read 
 before the Chicago Library Society, we give the following 
 extract : 
 
 "The day itself was singularly beautiful. The crowd 
 began to gather from all the adjacent country early in the 
 morning. They visited with reverent interest the little 
 stone house on the immediate banks of the river where 
 Washington was quartered ; dispersed themselves over the 
 historic hills ; traced out the old earthworks on the upper 
 ridges, which the constantly renewed growth of the woods 
 has preserved in nearly their original character; pointed out 
 to each other from some stand-point of advantage the places 
 where, over the fair fields of grass and grain, other lines of 
 defence, long since obliterated, had once been located, and 
 looked down the old Gulf road, glistening now under the 
 clear June sunlight, over which the little army marched 
 exactly a century ago full of the spirit of victory. 
 
 " Nothing could be finer than the sight, as toward mid- 
 day the crowd, swelled now to large proportions, began to 
 mass itself in and about the great tent, pitched by the 
 side of wliat remained of an old redoubt that formed the 
 key to the original line of defence. The most common- 
 place soul among them seemed to catch some of the inspira- 
 tion of the spot and its memories. 
 
 " The horizon of those whose life had been most circum- 
 scribed must have been a little widened with the thought 
 of what had been done and suffered where they stood. 
 
 " Before such an audience, filled with the subtle influence 
 of the day, the occasion, the memories, and the visible his- 
 tory about them, our young orator stepped forward to pro- 
 
VALLEV FORGE ORATION. 169 
 
 nounce the oration which was on the M'hole the greatest, 
 as it was the last work, of his short life. 
 
 " Pale with the natural excitement of the occasion, and 
 with what was known afterwards to be the unnatural ex- 
 citement of encroaching disease, he stood before them, an 
 ideal, youthful, manly presence. Gifted with a rich voice, 
 using with consummate art the grace of oratory, of which 
 he was a master, he held the vast crowd as by some en- 
 chantment, while he reproduced the scenes of one hundred 
 years ago, and made the hills and woods alive again with 
 the patient heroic figure of the Continental soldier. Who 
 that was present can forget how the crowd visibly thrilled, 
 as he said, — 
 
 " ' If my voice be feeble, we have but to look around. 
 The hills that saw our fathers suffer look down on us ; the 
 ground that thrilled beneath their feet we tread to-day ; 
 their unmarked graves still lie in yonder field ; the breast- 
 works which they built to shelter them surround us here ! 
 Dumb witnesses of the heroic past, ye need no tongues ! 
 Face to face with you, we see it all. This soft breeze 
 changes to an icy blast ; these trees drop the glory of the 
 summer, and the earth beneath our feet is wrapped in 
 snow. Beside us is a village of log huts, — along that ridge 
 smoulder the fires of a camp. The sun has sunk, the stars 
 glitter in the inky sky, the camp is hushed, the fires are out, 
 the night is still, all are in slumber except where a lamp 
 glimmers in yonder cottage window, and a passing shadow 
 shows a tall figure pacing to and fro. The cold silence is 
 unbroken, save when on yonder ramparts, crunching the 
 crisp snow with wounded feet, a ragged sentinel keeps 
 watch for liberty.' 
 
 " Having quickened their imagination with such pic- 
 torial and heroic suggestions of the scene, and having 
 
 12 
 
170 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 stimulated their patriotic enthusiasm and impulses with 
 the natural contrast between the nation then and now, he 
 brought his oration to a close with this solemn vision of 
 the future : 
 
 '' ' The age in which we live is but a link in the endless 
 and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon the 
 shore ; our voices like the breath of this summer breeze 
 that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. But in 
 the impenetrable to-be the endless generations are advan- 
 cing to take our places as we f\ilL For them, as for us, 
 shall the earth roll on, and the seasons come and go, the 
 snow-flakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be 
 gathered in. For them, as for us, shall the sun, like the 
 life of man, rise out of darkness in the morning and sink 
 into darkness in the night. For them, as for us, shall the 
 years march by in the sublime procession of the ages, and 
 here, in this place of sacrifice, in this valley of the shadow 
 of death, out of which the life of America arose regenerate 
 and free, let us believe with an abiding faith that to them 
 union will seem as dear and liberty as sweet and progress 
 as glorious as they were to our fathers and are to you and 
 me, and that the institutions that have made us happy, 
 preserved by the virtue of our children, shall bless the re- 
 motest generations of the time to come; and unto Him who 
 holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations, and 
 yet marks the sparrow's fall, let us lift up our hearts this 
 day, and unto His eternal care commend ourselves, our 
 children, and our country.' " 
 
 From the delivery of this oration Mr. Brown went 
 home, it might literally be said, to die. Low in strength, 
 and using up all the physical energy he had in speaking, 
 he contracted a fever at or about the time of the celebration 
 of Valley Forge. The day itself was very hot, and the 
 
THE LAST DAYS. 171 
 
 tent in which the speeches were made much hotter. He 
 came home utterly exhausted ; nevertheless, within twenty- 
 four hours of his return he commenced work on the Mon- 
 mouth oration, which he finished while on his bed. This, 
 his last literary production, will not be thought to be un- 
 worthy of him, or to show any signs of failing strength. 
 It is full of vigor and oratorical fire. It was not until the 
 evening before the day appointed for the celebration at 
 Monmouth, that lie finally consented to allow his family 
 to telegraph that he could not perform the office. From 
 that time the fever increased, and before many days its 
 symptoms were unmistakably those of typhoid. For eight 
 weeks there was a succession of hopes and fears. At one 
 time, when strong confidence of his recovery was aroused, 
 the good news gave joy to all good men throughout the 
 country. It was touching to observe during this long 
 period when he was struggling with the disease, how in- 
 tense was the interest manifested everywhere and by all 
 kinds of persons, and, above all, by the laboring class. 
 Relatives and family friends would be waylaid at all hours 
 of the day and night to be questioned by strangers who 
 did not give their names — chiefly working-men — in regard 
 to his condition. He had struck into human sympathy. 
 At first, in his rarely occurring moments of delirium, his 
 mind seemed to be taken up with the act of S])eaking. 
 When fully himself again, he questioned his physicians as 
 to the nature and duration of his disease. He wished to 
 know precisely his condition. Just at the turning-point, 
 at the end of three weeks, when the fever was almost gone, 
 there came a terribly hot day, and he was again prostrated. 
 After that he was conscious only at intervals of a day or 
 two, but when thus himself, though suiFering much men- 
 tally, all impatience had left him. He seemed to be com- 
 
172 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 miming with thoughts of higher things. His religious 
 nature was looking from the earthly away to God. He 
 expected, indeed, to recover; and his recuperative powers 
 were so great that it is no wonder his friends hoped to the 
 last. In order to give him the benefit of a change of air, 
 however slight, he was removed to his brother Frederick's 
 house, a few streets off. He surprised those who were 
 carrying him in an apparently unconscious state by giving 
 a direction as to the way in a calm voice, showing that 
 he knew perfectly what they were doing. Observing that 
 most of the accustomed furniture of the room had been 
 removed, he uttered a protest that so much trouble should 
 have been taken on his account. His voice, whenever he 
 spoke, remained strong, and his eye clear. 
 
 That night, however, he began to sink, and he died at 
 half-past eleven o'clock on Wednesday morning, August 
 21, 1878, at the age of thirty-three years. 
 
 The funeral, which took pla6e at his brother's residence, 
 was largely attended by members of the legal profession. 
 There was a brief service at the house, and then the re- 
 mains were taken to the church of St. James, the following 
 gentlemen acting as pall-bearers : Samuel Dickson, Wayne 
 McVeagh, Daniel Dougherty, Henry Hazlehurst, Theo- 
 dore Starr, E. Hunn Hanson, Samuel W. Hollingsworth, 
 Victor Guillou, and John J. Ridgway. 
 
 At the church religious services were conducted by the 
 Rev. Dr. Morton, in conjunction with Drs. Claxton and 
 Paddock and other clergymen. Dr. Morton spoke a few 
 words in a feeling and appreciative way of the deceased. 
 The interment was at Laurel Hill, at the gate of which 
 cemetery the funeral procession was met by all the work- 
 men employed upon the grounds, as their mark of respect 
 for the dead. 
 
AS AN ORATOR. 173 
 
 In a quiet spot, overlooking the great city at a distance 
 with its toiling myriads, and the picturesque and beautiful 
 Schuylkill River which flows close by beneath, life's work 
 over, he peacefully rests. The life is ended, and the river 
 still runs its ceaseless course. But could we look into 
 those things that are unseen and eternal, the river would 
 cease to run, and the life in ampler majesty and joy flow 
 on, 
 
 Henry Armitt Brown, though a man of uncommonly 
 varied gifts, \vas a born orator. This was his highest 
 manifestation of power by which he impressed himself on 
 men. This, therefore, must be our chief word concerning 
 him : and with some thouo-htful and loving words of others 
 respecting his eloquence and his character we take leave 
 of him. 
 
 There can be no question that he exercised an extraordi- 
 nary influence over audiences, even more than his published 
 speeches would seem to bear out. The orator's power, mys- 
 teriously connected with his personality, evades our attempt 
 to perpetuate it. The voice, eye, gesture, the subtle magic 
 of the presence, vanish. Music lingers in its characters, but 
 eloquence, like the wind, never recedes nor stays. The charm 
 perishes along with the speaker. That which came like a 
 divine breath from the soul, departs with it. Slight as was 
 his form, his speech " wielded the fierce democracy." With 
 the exception of Patrick Henry, Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, 
 and a few of our greatest orators, no speaker in the land ever 
 had moments of completer tritimph than he over the minds 
 and feelings of his hearers, — as at Carpenters' Hall, Valley 
 Forge, and the occasions when he mastered rude and hos- 
 tile assemblies by the spell of his eloquence. Wherein lay 
 that spell ? Not in rant, clap-trap, and stormy" declamation. 
 
174 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 
 
 Not in a massive style like Briglit's oratory, nor in cumu- 
 lative epithet like Sumner's, nor in " epigrammatic brilli- 
 ancy" like Beaconsfield's, nor in broad philosophic discussion 
 like Gladstone's, nor in the magnificent marshalling of fact 
 and phrase like Macaulay's, nor in a coarse passionate vigor 
 like O'Connell's. He did not have all forces combined, — 
 who does? His speech was more like that of the great 
 French orators, finished, classic, evenly sustained, without 
 display of violence or undisciplined imagination. He had 
 an elegance of style not incompatible with the highest 
 vigor. He won by a forceful but steady pressure. He 
 had three qualities of an orator, — a masterful will, personal 
 magnetism, and an exquisitely finished elocution. 
 
 His strong, masculine will, was itself a pure force in his 
 oratory, that thus became, in Emerson's words, " the appro- 
 jDriate organ of the highest personal energy." He was filled 
 with his theme. He became a complete instrument of the 
 M''ord he spoke. He poured himself out upon his speech 
 with the ^vhole energy of his being. Yet the flow was 
 regular and calm. There was intense feeling though under 
 control, and tiiis communicated itself, as reserved power 
 does, imperceptibly, to the audience. They felt its gentle 
 but resistless sway. They felt that the man, body, soul, 
 and spirit, while obedient to the higher intelligence inform- 
 ing them, was in the utterance. Hence sympathy and mag- 
 netism, — a fire that fused speaker and hearers in one. He 
 took quiet but entire possession of his audience, and in 
 apparently effortless ways often produced wonderful effects ; 
 for while the speech was smoothly flowing, claiming no 
 undue advantage over his hearers' minds, chording in and 
 going along with their convictions, appealing to the best 
 that was in them, with no attempt at eloquence, there was 
 opportunity generated for ample power, and the divine 
 
AS AN ORATOR. 175 
 
 afflatus sometimes came, lifting him and his licarers into 
 higher regions of thought and feeling. The wind blew 
 evenly along, but now and then the tempest filled the sails 
 with a heaven-sent inspiration. 
 
 His delivery was a constant charm. His voice was one 
 of great flexibility and compass, and his articulation was 
 singularly distinct, rounded, and musical. He had not 
 particularly trained his voice by elocutionary methods (that 
 was something he was always going to do), but it was a 
 natural gift with which he could, as upon a lute, sound all 
 the notes and stops of passion. While there was somewhat 
 too much of rhythm and he was not sufficiently abrupt, in 
 many points his speaking resembled the oratory of Grattan, 
 — the same finished style and harmonious delivery, the same 
 brilliant fancy and incisive wit. He had not yet been tried 
 in the severe school of parliamentary debate, but his readi- 
 ness in extempore speech, though developed late, showed 
 what he could have done in Congress if he had lived to 
 cope with others in the halls of national legislation. For, 
 as we have said, he was a native orator. Everything was 
 spontaneous. He had in liim the hidden resources of ora- 
 torical genius. He was, above all, a political speaker. He 
 delighted in those broad themes which concerned the wel- 
 fare of the State and the administration of the laws. He 
 had a manly intellect. As we have said, he grasped after 
 power in order to control men in their relations as citizens 
 to the best good of the State, M'hich, Dr. Arnold thought, 
 was the highest ambition of a man. While, like George 
 AVilliam Curtis and Wendell Phillips, he was fully able to 
 apprehend the morality and greatness of these political ques- 
 tions, he aimed, more than either of them, we think, at the 
 methods of a true state-craft, and the actual establishment 
 of a pure and noble government. He was not only a poli- 
 
176 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 tician in tlieory but science. He did not speak for momentary 
 impression, but as a means to a higher end. He sought to 
 raise the political spirit of the nation. Thus, with grit and 
 manhood to back him, exceptional purity of spirit, self-pos- 
 session, vivid imagination, fine and ready popular humor, an 
 expressive countenance and a noble gesture, and an exqui- 
 sitely modulated voice, — when filled with the subject he was 
 speaking upon, he was transformed far beyond what his 
 slight frame and quiet manner would ever have given the 
 expectation of his being, his words vibrated in men's souls, 
 and they recognized in him the divine gift of the orator. 
 Beyond all these, his character was one of manly modesty, 
 calm in its equipose and strong, courageous to speak and 
 act its honest purpose. 
 
 " Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, 
 These three alone lead life to sovereign power." 
 
 To say a word or two of his more familiar traits. If he 
 allowed himself two or three weeks to prepare an oration, 
 he would pass the first two in fruitless efforts to write what 
 suited him, becoming more and more discouraged as each 
 day passed; and, finally, when he had barely time to do the 
 work, he would seem to strike a fresh vein, and would 
 write almost steadily, with interruptions only for slight 
 meals and sleep, until he had completed the whole. 
 
 Sometimes he would finish the peroration, or other parts 
 of the address, and then spend his time in putting them 
 together satisfactorily, but he never did any real work — 
 anything he could make use of — until very nearly the time 
 appointed for the delivery. 
 
 He always read in advance of his writing, and would 
 search indefatigably in any direction for matter bearing on 
 his subject ; he liked to read what he had collected to his 
 
FAMILIAR TRAITS. 177 
 
 wife or to a friend, and their interest would stimulate him ; 
 and, while talking it over, his mind would become more 
 thoroughly aroused. The committing to memory never 
 seemed to give him the least uneasiness, and one day usually 
 sufficed for that, no matter how much matter there was. 
 He thus filled his mind with the subject, and spoke, though 
 from memory, with the inspiration of the theme. 
 
 When he first began to be prominent in Philadelphia, 
 unkind articles concerning him would be occasionally pub- 
 lished in the papers ; for a time these annoyed and pained 
 him, though he would say but little about it; afterward he 
 schooled himself so as not to seem in the least affected by 
 such notices, and would laugh when speaking of his former 
 sensitiveness. He treated his critics with undiminished 
 courtesy. But he was by nature very sensitive to such 
 things, and Nvould be much grieved if he thought that those 
 he cared for, particularly the members of his own family, 
 misunderstood or were displeased at anything he did. Being 
 unusually fair-minded and free from prejudice, he could 
 not understand the reverse in others. 
 
 Mr. Brown was not what some would have considered 
 a religious man, though there was a strong religious ele- 
 ment in his character. The actions of some men, done 
 under the guise and in the name of religion, which he re- 
 garded as Avrong and unworthy of the Christian name, had 
 greatly shaken his faith in professions of belief. That his 
 heart was right we have good reasons for knowing ; and 
 if forming a lofty ideal of the requirements of life, and 
 trying to live up to it as nearly as he could, counts for any- 
 thing, he has not come short. That he was, in the latter 
 part of his life, meditating upon a more positive attitude in 
 regard to Christian faith, there is proof. 
 
 Among his letters are found a great many from all kinds 
 
178 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 of persons, thanking him for all sorts of favors received. 
 He was overrun by men out of employment and in diffi- 
 culties, and he almost always made efforts to relieve them, 
 in many cases obtaining for them relief or substantially 
 benefiting them, so that his friends sometimes thought he 
 Avas quite too sympathetic. 
 
 He never thoroughly enjoyed anything alone ; if it were 
 a beautiful landscape, fine music, or a notable occasion, he 
 always needed some one to partake of his enjoyment to 
 make it perfect. Fortunately, he had a most happy faculty 
 of making friends wherever he went, inherited, he thought, 
 from his father, and in that way he would often find con- 
 genial companionship when on a journey, or absent from 
 home, in other cities. But one thing that runs through 
 all 'his correspondence and conversation was an intense love 
 of home, and a desire to be there. His purest pleasures 
 were away from the strifes of public life, and to be with 
 those in whom he found sympathy of mind and rest for 
 his spirit. 
 
 After the news of his death, the letters of condolence 
 which came pouring in bore on them all the proof of a 
 spontaneous sympathy. From classmates, and men of his 
 own age, the expressions were of the most poignant grief, 
 as if they could not believe, or bear to believe, the sad 
 intelligence. The staff of their honor seemed to have been 
 broken. From political friends the lamentation appeared 
 to be not less heartfelt. One of them, a conspicuous member 
 of the Reform party, writes, xiugust 23 : 
 
 " I am shocked at this announcement. All men who 
 shared his high aims have lost in him a friend and champion. 
 His wise counsel and perfect courage will be sorely missed, 
 and this void will keep his memory fresh in hearts to which 
 
WORDS OF FRIENDS. 179 
 
 his rare personal traits were unknown. My thoughts have 
 run back to-clay to many and many an hour passed with 
 him, never to be forgotten." 
 
 G. S. Cannon, Esq., of Bordentown, New Jersey, sent to 
 Frederick Brown, August 22, these few words, which, 
 coming from a lawyer and an elderly man, are affecting : 
 
 " Your fond anticipations have not been realized, and 
 your noble, pure, gifted, and eloquent brother lies en- 
 shrouded for the tomb. Thousands of hearts outside of 
 your family will be touched and troubled by this great 
 bereavement, and will not soon forget, but will again and 
 again recall to their recollection, his gentleness, sweetness, 
 and the wonderful endearments which were his." 
 
 The following letter from Alfred C. Lambdin, Esq., to 
 Frederick Brown, contains a reference to the Monmouth 
 address : 
 
 "I send you herewith the MS. just as I received it on 
 the night of the Monmouth Celebration. I held it subject 
 to your brother's orders, hoping that it might receive the 
 revision he meant to give it, but it was not God's will. 
 
 " I cannot tell you, and I do not need to tell you, how 
 intensely we all feel the shadow of this great loss. I think 
 that all his friends felt toward him as toward a brother, and 
 therefore can enter in some degree into a brother's sorrow. 
 
 " He was a man whom we must be thankful to have 
 known, whose influence was invigorating, whose memory 
 will be helpful." 
 
 Dated from "Gambrel Cottage, Manchester-by-the-Sea, 
 Mass., August 22, 1878," Mr. John R. Baker received 
 these swift lines from James T. Fields, Esq. : 
 
180 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " I have just read in a morning paper the sad intelli- 
 gence. How strange it seems, and how hard to believe ! 
 
 " After receiving yours of the 8th I felt easy, and was 
 waiting day after day to learn of the dear one's recovery 
 from his long illness. 
 
 " What a mystery ! It seems like a vision that cannot 
 be true. 
 
 " My heart goes out to those left weeping behind, and 
 I mingle my tears with theirs, grieving that I cannot do 
 anything or say anything to help them. 
 
 " God bless you and help you all in this unlooked-for 
 loss! I had been looking forward to many happy meet- 
 ings with dear Harry, for I loved him and had high hopes 
 of his successful career as a patriotic and most talented 
 citizen. 
 
 " At a proper time give our love to your daughter and 
 granddaughter, and tell them how saddened we both are 
 by what we hear to-day. 
 
 " There is no sunshine in my cottage here to-day, 
 although the sun is shining on the shore." 
 
 General George B. McClellan wrote to Mrs. Brown from 
 Orange, New Jersey, August 23, as follows : 
 
 " Not many months ago when my family were in sor- 
 row, I received a most kind note from your husband, and 
 little thought at the time that the occasion would so soon 
 present itself for my writing to you. I do not seek to 
 intrude upon your grief, but desire in briefest words to tell 
 you how sincerely I and mine sympathize with you in 
 your sad hour of trial, how cordially we esteemed and 
 admired your husband, and how deeply we feel that the 
 loss is not simply that of his family, but that the commu- 
 nity in which he lived has reason to deplore the untimely 
 
WORDS OF FRIENDS. 181 
 
 death of one whose past gave the most excellent promise 
 for the future. 
 
 " My family unite with me in sincere sympathy." 
 
 A cherished friend of Harry's and of his family, Bishop 
 Clark, of Rhode Island, expresses thus his sense of per- 
 sonal loss in a letter dated August 26, addressed to Fred- 
 erick Brown, Esq. : 
 
 " I hardly know how to express my profound and earn- 
 est sympathy with you, your mother, and all the household, 
 in the sad calamity that has now fallen upon you. 
 
 " I have thought that there was no man of his age in 
 the land who showed a higher gift in certain departments 
 than your brother. I have been anticipating for him a 
 long and brilliant career. But tlie Almighty had some 
 higher work for hitn to do in another field^ and so He took 
 him. 
 
 "The loss to the public is great, but no one can tell 
 what a terrible void has been left in the family circle. 
 Only time and the nearer prospect of meeting those who 
 have gone before, in their new homes, can assuage such 
 grief. 
 
 " This bereavement seems to be very strange and inscru- 
 table now, but by and by we shall see that your brother, 
 after all, was not taken away prematurely. He may have 
 been spared some great trials, and as he had ripened early, 
 he was early transferred to a world where no further trials 
 or disappointments can reach us." 
 
 These words, from over the sea, are from Sir Charles 
 Reed, M.P., dated September 2 : 
 
 " I have had a note from Julia Lea this morning, and 
 straightway I have had a long look at the lovely portrait 
 
182 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 you gave me in 1876. The sight of it intensified my 
 grief when I imagined the face I saw, shrouded in sorrow 
 for the loss of one who, though but slightly known by me, 
 was greatly admired for what he was, and for the promise 
 of what he was to be. How little we know ! At Childs's 
 dinner-table he was the centre of interest, and full of viva- 
 cious wisdom. He looked firm and strong, and I marked 
 him as one of your country's foremost men, for he spoke 
 of liberty and corruption as I like to hear the patriot 
 speak, and we forgathered then in true sympathy. 
 
 " In Paris and in London I tried in vain to see you 
 both, and I heard of your terrible voyage and sent mes- 
 sages. 
 
 " In the midst of your great loss I will refrain from 
 saying more. Human sympathy avails but little in the 
 hour of such crushing sorrow, but it may please you to 
 know that there are those who feel for you, and some who 
 desire, from a distance, to bring their wreath of friendship 
 and lay it on the tomb of Henry Armitt Brown." 
 
 The poet Longfellow wrote the following note to a 
 member of Mr. Brown's family, September 9, 1878 : 
 
 " I thank you for counting me among those who sympa- 
 thize with you in your great loss, and for sending me the 
 photograph of Armitt Brown, and the various eulogies 
 called forth by his death. 
 
 '' I had a great personal regard for him, and a high 
 opinion of his character and abilities. When such a man 
 dies it is not only a private loss but a public loss, and such 
 it is felt to be by the whole community. 
 
 " I beg you to convey to Mrs. Brown my warmest and 
 deepest sympathy, and to your own family my best regard 
 and condolence." 
 
WORDS OF FRIENDS. 183 
 
 Another letter from across the sea, dated Monnetier, 
 Savoy, France, September 12, 1878, is from John Welsh, 
 Esq., our recent minister to England, and is thus feelingly- 
 expressed : 
 
 " Here, in a recess in the mountains, with Lake Leman 
 below me, whose waters are ever flowing onward to the 
 ocean as our steps are moving towards eternity, and Mont 
 Blanc above me, whose peaks rise toward heaven clothed 
 in garments radiant with purity as resplendent as the hopes 
 of the future which fill our hearts, I desire to express my 
 sympathy for you in your affliction, an affliction so heavy 
 that there is only one who can lighten it, and to Him 
 I trust that you have been able to turn in humble sub- 
 mission. 
 
 " In common with all who knew him whom we mourn, 
 I have looked with pride and pleasure on his rising pro- 
 gress, marked by the manifestation of the purest principles, 
 the manliest conduct, and the highest aspirations, and had 
 assigned for him a future of great usefulness and honor. 
 
 " It is otherwise, and he has left us. We mourn his 
 loss. He was beloved. Your heart must be full of sad- 
 ness, and yet what joy there must be mingled in it that 
 you are the mother of such a son, one whose life was 
 marked by so many virtues and whose death is so univer- 
 sally mourned. 
 
 " Pardon me for my intrusion, but I cannot withhold 
 from you this feeble tribute to the memory of one who was 
 possessed of my warmest regard, and the expression of my 
 deepest sympathy for all those who are now suffering 
 under the bereavement caused by the death of my friend, 
 Henry Armitt Brown." 
 
 We add but one more of these " words of friends," — 
 
184 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 from the venerable Judge John J. Pinkerton, dated West 
 Cliester, March 31, 1879 : 
 
 " My absence at the Supreme Court has prevented an 
 earlier acknowledgment of your kindness in sending me 
 the Valley Forge oration. 
 
 " I am under special obligations to you for it, as I had 
 already received from Harry all else that he had printed, 
 and this only was needed to make my collection com- 
 plete. 
 
 " My relations with your brother were exceedingly cor- 
 dial, and my aifection for him great. His death created a 
 personal grief not easily put into words. To the State it 
 was a loss hard to repair ; as a common friend wrote me 
 about him, ' I cannot help feeling that our moral forces are 
 diminished.' To all of us, who knew him, he was an ex- 
 ample of the supreme value of noble conduct and high 
 demeanor." 
 
 The formal notices which succeed, are culled from a great 
 number of similar expressions of public regard. In them 
 there will be seen to be the same manifestation of an un- 
 feigned sorrow for a great public loss, and a desire that the 
 lesson of such a life might not all be lost. We print them, 
 as we have done the letters which have gone before, because 
 they show unconsciously, and better than we are able in 
 any other way to bring out, the profound impression made 
 on the community of the character of a geimine man. 
 While eulogistic they have the stamp of thorough sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 The "In Memoriam" verses of Miss Caroline L. Mitchell, 
 of Burlington, New Jersey, which were composed the very 
 hour that the sad news reached her, and which have in 
 them a heart-glow, merit the first place: 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 185 
 
 " Only a short while since a voice sublime 
 Told of the deeds of mighty men of old, 
 Waking fresh echoes from the ancient time, 
 Telling a story — never idly told — 
 
 " Of the brave warriors and their deeds as brave ; 
 Of wrong and suffering, sorrows sad, yet grand ; 
 Of freedom conquered and the freemen's grave, 
 Link'd with the deathless story of our land. 
 
 " And they who listened felt their pulses thrill 
 And joyed to follow on that clear-voiced call, 
 For thousands hearkened, in a hush as still 
 As that which follows on the thunder-fall. 
 
 '* But now ! oh voice sublime, oh voice most true. 
 
 Break through this silence which now seals your tone ; 
 Tell those who know that honor is your due 
 
 Of the fair life, — of death which you have known. 
 
 " Tell us, oh voice sublime, — from out the light 
 Which floods this silence, — why our feet are set 
 To stumble lonely in this awful night. 
 Where all things but our weeping we forget ; 
 
 " Tell us why, for a time, upon the plane of life 
 Your tones rang clear, in swift, responsive call ; 
 And when death came, and, after solemn strife, 
 Wrapped silently your joy and grace from all ; 
 
 " Tell us from Paradise, in words of love, — 
 
 The God we worship knows and shares our grief, — 
 Oh, tell us of His cross ; that through His wounds, 
 To our sad hearts, may come some sweet relief. 
 
 " God keeps His own ! Then let His blessing fall 
 On you — in death at rest — in measure large. 
 Life loses and Death wins ! His bugle-call 
 
 Warns the brave warriors of the coming charge. 
 13 
 
186 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " Peace be your portion, till the voice of God 
 
 Calls on Ilis own to leave the grave and live, — 
 
 Then, voice sublime, make answer, — while the ' rod 
 
 And staff' of God 'support and comfort' give." 
 
 New Rochelle, New York. 
 
 Hardly less promptly appeared the following apprecia- 
 tive article in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin of August 
 22, 1878 : 
 
 " No sadder news has been chronicled for many a day 
 than that which announced yesterday the death of Henry 
 Armitt Brown. The terrible nature of the disease with 
 which he wrestled so long made this catastrophe seem very 
 probable ; but anticipation of the end has robbed it of none 
 of its mournfulness now that it has come. It only remains 
 for those who have to note the removal of this gifted young 
 man from the places that have known him, to give expression 
 to the sense of loss which is felt by every one who had an 
 opportunity of estimating his character and his intellectual 
 ability, and of observing the promise that the future had 
 for him of high achievement and honorable fame. The 
 language of eulogy too often is strained when the dead are 
 spoken of; but here was a man for whom the warmest 
 epithets of praise alone are fit, and who deserves^a kindlier 
 epitaph than any that can be written for him. It was one 
 of his best qualities that the praise which was heaped upon 
 him during his life never ministered visibly to his pride. 
 He died at thirty-three, after having won by sheer force of 
 intellect and character such triumphs as few men in middle 
 life can boast of; and yet he bore his honors meekly. His 
 head was never turned by his successes. His manner was 
 always suave, his courtesy to the humblest was never less 
 refined than when he mingled with the greatest. If it 
 happened that he could help some less fortunate man who 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 187 
 
 struggled upon a pathway which he had climbed wath ease, 
 there was always an extended hand and a word of cheer. 
 He had too large a soul for flattery to hurt. He was far 
 too great a man to permit the littleness of vanity to make 
 him heedless of the obligations of his kinship with the 
 lowliest of his fellows. 
 
 " To most men who read of his death he was known only 
 as the scholar and orator ; and none who ever heard him 
 doubted the fairness of his claim to the distinction which 
 came to him. His natural gifts were extraordinary ; but 
 he used them well. He made so close approach to perfec- 
 tion because he strove valiantly to reach a high ideal. He 
 was a hard student, a toiler who realizes that the best con- 
 summation follows ever with the greatest eifort. His style 
 seemed the most fitting that could have been chosen for 
 his purpose. He wove the fabric of his speeches with dain- 
 tiest skill, accompanying the cogent argument with pictures 
 w^hich were full of vivid power. Some of his descriptions 
 of scenes that have come to us famous from the old time 
 are elaborated so artfully, with so much picturesque detail, 
 that the figures are rounded before the eye and crowned 
 with a semblance of reality. The reader of his speeches 
 feels his power to conjure up the people and the things of 
 the past ; but the full value of his ability in this respect 
 can be estimated alone by those who have heard him when 
 he was his own interpreter. He was a great orator. If he 
 had lived it is possible that he might have taken rank among 
 the very greatest. There was a grandeur of method, a 
 largeness of style, an excellence of gesture, and an exquisite 
 intonation which enabled him to move an audience deeply. 
 The unskilled who heard him marvelled at his power, but 
 he numbered among the warmest of his admirers men who 
 themselves had no mean skill in the art of eloquence. 
 
138 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " But he was far more than a charming writer and a 
 noble orator. He was a man who had high aims from his 
 early youth. Not only did he covet for himself, at a time 
 when most young men are pursuing pleasure, such distinc- 
 tion as he attained, but he determined within his soul that 
 he would strive for better things for his country. He 
 loathed the corruption and trickery that have poisoned our 
 politics, and one of the first aspirations of what may be 
 called his public life was toward reform. Perhaps the 
 method he preferred was not the wisest or surest to attain 
 the desired end. But his wish was ardent and his effort was 
 sincere. He never surrendered his hope of better things 
 to come, or yielded his purpose to expend his energies in 
 their behalf. He had the intensest scorn for those who play 
 upon passion and prejudice to gain promotion in public life, 
 and he hated the methods which enable the trickster and 
 the demagogue to climb to the high places of the nation. 
 If he had lived, a time surely would have been when the 
 people, acting independently of partisan machinery, would 
 have chosen him to speak for them in the national councils. 
 And there were those who believed that the statesman of 
 the better days to come might be such as he. He was the 
 kind of a man who would have made the profession of 
 politics worthy of the adoption of the pure and the wise, 
 and would have shown to the country how there might be 
 politicians who should be moved by high principles and 
 lofty conceptions of patriotism and duty. It is nearly cer- 
 tain that he looked forward to sucli a career ; certainly his 
 friends believed that it awaited his ripened powers and the 
 combination of events. No man more worthy to conduct 
 such a reform, or better fitted to stand as the representative 
 of a higher code of political morality, has ever in recent 
 years commanded public attention in this city. 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 189 
 
 "But these great possibilities are past. There is no 
 future for him excepting in that world where all wrongs 
 are righted, Avliere the best and the purest are always 
 crowned, and where that which defiles and makes unclean 
 has no abiding-place. The Divine hand that led him 
 onward here toward noble things, and that appeared to be 
 shaping him for a great and splendid destiny, has smitten 
 him while his task seemed hardly yet begun, and the life 
 that was so full of promise is ended in the grave. If we 
 cannot fathom the mystery of such a dispensation, we can 
 be glad that so much as was done in the brief span of this 
 man's existence was done well ; and it must be a consola- 
 tion to those to whom the bereavement brings greatest 
 sorrow, that the life which has closed had no stain upon it, 
 but that there remains among those who observed it a 
 memory that will be forever fragrant." 
 
 A special meeting of the Executive Committee of the 
 Municipal Reform Association was held August 22 at 
 the office of John J. Ridgway, Esq., Mr. P. Morris Perot 
 presiding, and Mr. L. P. Ashmead acting as secretary. 
 The following resolutions, presented by Mr. Henry C. Lea, 
 were unanimously adopted : 
 
 " Whereas^ Providence has seen fit to remove from among us our 
 friend and associate, Henry Armitt Brovrn. 
 
 " Resolved, That we deplore his loss as a matter not merely per- 
 sonal to ourselves, but as a misfortune to the community at large, 
 which can ill afford to spare one whose brilliant intellect, richly- 
 cultured mind, lofty aims, and chivalrous courage were always at 
 the service of the public, with a rare disregard of self. Spurning 
 the baser arts of the politician, he was content to win his way by 
 the force of his high gifts and purity of character, preferring that 
 success should be delayed rather than obtain it by means inconsistent 
 with the nicest sense of honor. Time alone was lacking to win for 
 
190 MEMOIR OF HEyRV ARMITT BROM'S. 
 
 him the high phice that was his due iu the councils of the nation, 
 and the career which is now cut short would have been a conspicu- 
 ous example that mediocritv and unscrupulous self-seeking are not 
 the surest rec[uisites for success in our public life. For what he was 
 we mourn him ; for what he would have been we grieve for our city 
 and our country. 
 
 ^'' JSesolced, That the officers of the Citizens' Municipal Reform 
 Association be directed to convey these resolutions to the family of 
 our late colleague, with the assurance of our deepest sympathy with 
 them in their irreparable loss.'' 
 
 The following is a report taken from the Philadtlphia 
 Times of August 2G of a bar-meeting held August 24 : 
 
 " Xever, probably, in the history of the Philadelphia 
 bar has there been such an assemblage of the lawyei-s of 
 this city as g-athered together on Saturday morniug in 
 Room C of the Court of Common Pleas to do honor to 
 the memory of their late associate. It was not the congre- 
 gatiou of the friends and professional intimates of the de- 
 ceased alone, nor a meeting held simply to comply with the 
 etiquette of the Bar dissociation, but rather the clustering 
 together of legal gentlemen of all degrees and stations to 
 pay an earnest, heartfelt tribute to the memory of one who 
 had endeared himself to all by his honor, his manliness, 
 his culture, and his manifold accomplishments. 
 
 " Long before the hour of meeting, eleven o'clock, the 
 members of the bar entered the court-room, and with 
 solemn countenances and bated breath quietly recounted 
 reminiscences of the life of jNIr. Brown, and told and re- 
 told instances of his many excellencies and good qualities. 
 There seemed to be a feeling of sadness pervading all 
 present, which fully betokened the love and admiration 
 held for the young and gifted lawyer and orator who had 
 died. 
 
 "■ A thino; was noticed about this bar-meeting which has 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 191 
 
 probably never, certainlj very seldom, ooeurred before, 
 and that was the presence of many gentlemen outside of the 
 profession, who had come to testify by that pre^enoe their 
 respect for the object of the meeting. Leading' .is 
 
 and bankers with whom Mr. Brown had been £^- 
 in the Reform movement were there. Several cler^ 
 and members of the medical profession were in attend- 
 ance. Among these last none was more conspicuous than 
 the tall form and fine head of the distinguished sur- 
 geon. Professor Gross. He was aooompanied by a leading 
 member of the Baltimore bar, his son-in-law, ]Mr. Ben- 
 jamin F. Horwitz. The judges of the Common Pleas and 
 Orphans' Court were there, — all who were in town, — 
 Judges Peirce, Thayer, Biddle, Hare, Ashman, and Pen- 
 rose, while Judge Sharswood, of the Supreme Court, came 
 to preside and speak the first words. A few of the mem- 
 bers of the bar who clustered around these gentlemen may 
 be menrioned : George W. Biddle, Isaac Hazlehuist, W. 
 Heyward Drayton, William B. !Mann, John K. Findlay 
 and his partner Mr. Thomas, Morton P. Henry, Samuel 
 A. Dickson, Wayne MacVeagh, George Tucker Bispham, 
 Heniy Hazlehurst, Bichard L. Ashhursx, Daniel Dougherty, 
 James H. Heverin, Samuel W. Pennypacker, John J. 
 Ridgway, A, Haller Gross, J. Parker Xorris, 3klax Mcln- 
 tyre, Charles W. Warwick, John R. Read, Henry C. 
 Townsend, Pierce Archer, Jr., Thomas J. Ashton, Francis 
 Brewster, Victor GniUoo, James Ljmd, Stissex Davis, 
 Robert X. Willson, Samuel B. Hu'ey, Charles B. Mc- 
 ^ilichael. E. Hiirm Hanson, and Lewis Wain Smith. 
 
 *• Judge Sharswood in taking the chair spoke but a few 
 moments. He said : 
 
 " ' My brethren of the bar and bench, I do not feel like 
 saying anything to you of the cause of our assembling 
 
192 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 this morning, — the death of Henry Armitt Brown. To 
 me it is one of the saddest occasions at which I have ever 
 been j)resent. We are often called upon to express our 
 regret at the death of men who have attained their three- 
 score years and ten. On such occasions there has always 
 been the consolation that a full sheaf has been gathered to 
 the eternal garner. We looked upon a perfect arch, and 
 were only called to lay a cap-stone upon it. Here it is dif- 
 ferent. We have a broken column, of elegant proportions, 
 promising to be a glorious structure, suddenly arrested, and 
 we are only left to fancy what it might have been. We 
 bow to a mysterious Providence, and all that the survivors 
 can do is to kneel in submission to the will of Him who 
 seeth the end from the beginning. He has done this, as 
 all things else, in wisdom and love. I shall not under- 
 take to anticipate anything regarding the life, character, 
 and public services of our brother, and will leave that to 
 those who knew him more intimately.' 
 
 "At the conclusion of Judge Sharewood's address Samuel 
 A. Dickson presented a set of resolutions, as annexed : 
 
 " ' The members of the Philadelphia bar having received with 
 profound regret the announcement of the death of Henry Armitt 
 Brown, and being desirous of expressing their appreciation of his 
 virtues and their sense of the loss that has fallen upon themselves 
 and upon the community, have 
 
 " ' Resolved, That in the death of Mr. Broven the profession has 
 lost one of its most brilliant members, whose success in the field of 
 eloquence has not only gained a high reputation for himself, but has 
 added largelj'^ to the renown of the Philadelphia bar. 
 
 " ' Resolved, That Mr. Brown's career has exhibited one of the 
 most striking instances in the annals of the bar of the early and 
 rapid attainment of high and honorable distinction. In less than 
 ten short years he made himself one of the first orators of the coun- 
 try, one of the foremost citizens of the community in which he lived, 
 and one of the prominent figures to which all lovers of good govern- 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 193 
 
 ment and unselfish patriotism instinctively turned for advice, en- 
 couragement, and aid. 
 
 " ' Resolved, That while it is true that Mr. Brown's eminence was 
 chiefly gained by his labors outside of the immediate sphere of pro- 
 fessional exertion, it cannot be doubted that the same high qualities 
 would have brought success had circumstances and choice inclined 
 him to give himself up to the practice of his profession. The leisure 
 afforded him by inherited wealth was not spent in idleness nor sloth. 
 He lived laborious days to fit himself for his work. His learning 
 was wide and liberal, and his mind was stored with " the great 
 thoughts and fine sayings of the great men of all ages;'' but the 
 ripe culture gained from foreign travel and classical studies did not 
 dim nor dull his love for his country nor her institutions. In all of 
 his orations and addresses he never spoke for self nor thought of 
 self, and it was this that lent the most irresistible charm to his 
 oratory. Through all his words there shone the clear, brave spirit 
 of the courageous and high-minded gentleman, who was pleading 
 for the cause of good government, or seeking to revive the memories 
 of the loftier and purer patriotism of the past. To those who will 
 turn again to the orations delivered in Carpenters' Hall and at Val- 
 ley Forge, it will not seem extravagant to apply to him his own 
 eulogy upon the great orator of the Revolution: "Through all 
 descending time his countrymen shall repeat his glowing words, and 
 inspire in the hearts of men to be that love of liberty which filled 
 his own." 
 
 " ' Resolved, That we tender to the family of our departed friend 
 the assurance of our profound sympathy, and that a committee of 
 seven be appointed to communicate a copy of these resolutions.' 
 
 " Daniel Dougherty, witli whom Mr. Brown studied 
 law, seconded the resolutions at considerable length and 
 with much feeling. He said : 
 
 " ' The sad and solemn duty devolves on me, gentlemen 
 of the bar, of formally announcing to you the demise of 
 Henry Armitt Brown. Struck down by typhoid fever, 
 he struggled for two months, alternately rallying and re- 
 lapsing, until Wednesday last, when his brief yet bright 
 career terminated on earth, to begin, I hope, an endless 
 
194 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 home in heaven. The journals of the city have given 
 full details of his birth, parentage, and education. As a 
 man he was familiar to all of us. Philadelphians, not 
 only at home but who are sojourning in different parts of 
 our country and abroad, will learn this deplorable intelli- 
 gence with sorrow deep and heartfelt. I knew him, Mr. 
 Chairman, from his youth. I watched with affectionate 
 pride the bright boy develop into the brilliant man, and 
 looked forward with fond antici[)ations to see him one of 
 America's illustrious citizens. He was the most conspicu- 
 ous young man in Philadelphia, and the one most likely in 
 the future to fill a large space in the general eye. Though 
 not officially announced, it was well knoAvn that Secretary 
 of State Evarts had offered him the position of Second 
 Assistant Secretary. As a writer he was concise and elegant, 
 adapting his style to the subject, light and airy if the theme 
 were so ; severe and grave if the importance of the com- 
 position demanded it. His speeches in his few important 
 cases at the bar elicited encomiums from the bench and 
 ranked him as a rising orator. His lectures, and his polit- 
 ical and miscellaneous addresses, extended wide his popu- 
 larity, and were earning for him a national reputation. 
 His oration at Carpenters' Hall, in the effect its delivery 
 had upon his hearers, and its glowing eloquence, mark it as, 
 without a single exception, the most masterly effort called 
 forth by our Centennial anniversaries.' 
 
 " Speaking of Mr. Brown's earnest advocacy of munici- 
 pal reform, Mr. Dougherty said : 
 
 " ' The emoluments of office had no charm for him. He 
 was without the weakness that attends ambition ; he would 
 not stoop that he might rise; he would not court the 
 schemers that, alas for our country, stand between the 
 people and public honors. He neither could be flattered 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 195 
 
 by the smiles nor bribed by the favors of those who have 
 usurped the distribution of offices. He would not sacrifice 
 his independence by shaping his opinions to suit the de- 
 signs of partisans. He was conscientious in his convictions, 
 and fearless and defiant in battling for the right. Over 
 all his public and private traits there shone the serene 
 beauty of the gentleman. Many years ago I heard his 
 father say that it had been his aim to give his children a 
 happy childhood. He did more, — he implanted in his sons 
 the seeds of noble manhood. If Harry, as his intimates 
 endearingly called him, had lived, he would have filled a 
 lofty niche as one who joined to the possession of shining 
 talents, sterling qualities that recall heroic days, and who 
 dedicated all to truth, virtue, and patriotism. I dare not 
 dwell on his home and his mother's home, both now deso- 
 late. I cannot trust myself to speak of our more than 
 friendship, and close by seconding the resolutions.' 
 
 " Hon. Wayne MacVeagh next arose. He was so com- 
 pletely overcome by his feelings that it was with difficulty 
 that he could speak the few words he had to say in behalf 
 of the memory of his dead friend. He said : 
 
 " ' I cannot refrain from taking part in this meeting, 
 and yet I cannot say anything satisfactory to the bench 
 and the bar. Between Mr. Brown and myself existed the 
 most intimate relations, and I am justified in saying that I 
 knew him thoroughly. I rise to say only that of his beauty 
 of character and patriotism the whole truth will never be 
 told. A bold and ripe scholar and an orator and patriot 
 who thought always of his country and not of himself, 
 and a stainless gentleman, — all these he was. I can say 
 no more of him. I loved him too dearly and I knew him 
 too intimately. I am therefore only listening to his praise 
 from the lips of others.' 
 
196 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 " Henry Hazleliurst, a playmate, schoolfellow, and life- 
 long friend of Mr. Brown, told of his having been asso- 
 ciated in his first case with him, and turning to the chairman, 
 he continued : 
 
 " ' I have often heard you, sir, speak of his distinguished 
 success on that occasion before a judge who is now your 
 own associate in the Supreme Court. It was not the formal 
 and courteous recollection of counsel, but the wise and just 
 appreciation of a man who promised to fill a place that was 
 vacant at the bar. Had he lived, that promise would have 
 been faithfully kept, and as a forensic orator Mr. Brown 
 would have made it our pride to tell of his triumphs. But 
 he did live to advocate the greatest of all causes, pure and 
 just municipal administration, and at a time when every 
 word he spoke brought encouragement and assurance, he 
 won his highest honors. I know of no eulogy now so fit- 
 ting to be spoken in this distinguished presence as was con- 
 tained in the message which announced to me his death. 
 The scrap of paper said, " Died at noon." In every sense 
 he died with the freshness of morning upon him, without a 
 disappointment, before envy had time to speak, and while 
 every man's hand was stretched out; at home and among 
 " troops of friends" he passed away. We must not call him 
 dead. Let us say that "at mid -day, on the King's High- 
 way, there met him an angel in the way." ' 
 
 " President Judge Hare was the next speaker. 
 
 " ' While this is no ordinary occasion,' he remarked, ' I 
 cannot do more than touch upon its cause. Henry Armitt 
 Brown was a natural-born orator, and possessed all the neces- 
 sary gifts to persuade and sway his fellow-men. He was a 
 representative man, and one of whom the city was jiroud. 
 When he rose to speak his first utterances were received 
 with pleasure, and regret followed when he closed.' 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 197 
 
 '' His Honor rehearsed the attending circumstances of 
 Mr. Brown's first public speech, and concluded with : 
 
 " ' He had a noble purpose to serve the public and his 
 fellows, and with his accomplishments what might he not 
 have accomplished ?' 
 
 " George T. Bispham followed in a brief speech, closing 
 with the following tribute : 
 
 " ' I never knew a man for whose friendship so many 
 men were eager, or one whose friendship when gained was 
 so valuable. His loss to the bar and his friends is irrepar- 
 able.' 
 
 " Samuel W. Pennypacker spoke as follows : 
 
 " ' It was my fortune to have been nearer to Mr. Brown 
 than perhaps any other of his friends among the young bar 
 during the preparation of his last and probably his greatest 
 work. After he had been invited to make the oration at 
 Valley Forge, which he considered to be the most impor- 
 tant of all the Pennsylvania celebrations, he came to me 
 because of my acquaintance with the locality. Together, 
 only four months ago, we examined the entrenchments 
 there and rode to the Paoli and the Warren Tavern, and 
 following the track of the British army, crossed the Schuyl- 
 kill at Girdont Ford. Together, little more than two months 
 ago, we read over the completed oration. The assistance I 
 was able to give him was little indeed, but the opportunity 
 it afforded me of getting a closer insight into his character 
 I shall always cherish among the happiest memories of my 
 life. The Valley Forge oration is beyond question the finest 
 which the Centennial anniversaries called forth, and as an 
 artistic production is a marvel. With patient industry and 
 a determination born of enthusiasm he thoroughly mastered 
 the subject, — topographically and historically. With clear 
 insight he caught the true inspiration of the scenes of that 
 
198 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 dreary winter. A more beautiful picture than his contrast 
 between the ragged Continentals upon the bleak hills and 
 the royalists amid the luxury of the city could not be 
 limned. And for two hours and a half the people, at the 
 close of a wearisome day of exercises, stood up and listened. 
 A very capable historical critic has said to me that there is 
 no more that can be added to the story of Valley Forge. 
 And hereafter, in the ages to come, when men look back 
 with veneration towards the heroes who suffered and died 
 there, the young orator, whose earnestness to do justice to 
 their memories so sadly shortened his own career, cannot be 
 forgotten. Surely some of their renewed glory belongs to 
 him. The sorrow which I feel in his early death is partly 
 a selfish grief, partly regret at his broken hopes, now for- 
 ever ended here, but beyond all, the loss to my native State. 
 We have many men who are capable and pure, but they 
 have eaten of the lotos and the spear has dropped from 
 their nerveless hands. With his strength and his ambition 
 he could not have been kept from the national councils ; 
 but he is dead, and the fruits we were promised we shall 
 never gather.' 
 
 " Judge Biddle recounted the circumstances of an appeal 
 made by Mr. Brown before him in mitigation of a certain 
 sentence : 
 
 " ' I was not swayed in my judgment by the appeal,' 
 said the judge, ' but I could not fail but recognize its 
 beauty and pathos. A great distinctive characteristic of 
 Mr. Brown was his manliness. He took his views and 
 shaped his course from the earlier statesmen of the country, 
 and if he had been spared he would have met many of the 
 issues of the day.' 
 
 " Judge Peirce followed. 
 
 " He remarked : ' Mr. Brown had the courasce of his 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 199 
 
 convictions, — a rare quality, — and was the steadfast oppo- 
 nent of corruption and wrong. In the death of such a 
 man the community has sustained a loss, but the example 
 of his life is not lost, and, though dead, he yet should 
 speak from the grave and move young men to fill the 
 break left vacant, and this being done it cannot be said 
 that he died in vain.' 
 
 " John J. Ridgway closed the addresses of the day, re- 
 counting the circumstances attending the illness of the 
 deceased, and spoke eloquently of his manliness and purity 
 of purpose. 
 
 " The following despatch from Mr. McClure was read 
 by Mr. Lewis Wain Smith : 
 
 " ' MiNNEQUA, August 22. 
 
 " ' James H. Heverin, — I cannot be present to join the 
 members of the Philadelphia bar on Saturday in giving 
 expression to the profound sense of bereavement that the 
 untimely death of Henry Armitt Brown has created in 
 the circle of his professional brethren. He will be lamented 
 as the most gifted of all his associates, and he will long 
 live in friendship's memories as one of the bravest, noblest, 
 and best of men. 
 
 " ' A. K. McClure.' 
 
 " The meeting then adjourned." 
 
 The subjoined brief piece came out in the Sunday 
 Transcript : 
 
 " Mr. Brown was a politician in the true sense of the 
 term, and none the less so because he ignored the j)rimaries 
 and sought only to enforce his views when the candidates 
 were selected and were before the people for election or 
 rejection. His oratory and his masterly command of the 
 
200 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 language enabled him to discuss issues and questions in 
 terse and vigorous English, but he failed to recognize that 
 higher duty of the citizen, — to attend the delegate elections. 
 Again and again has Mr. Brown denounced in scathing 
 phrases the supineness of the voters who allowed their 
 delegates to be selected without their knowledge and with- 
 out their sanction. But did he ever go down to the depths 
 and seek to discover the true cause of all the political woes 
 which he depicted in such glowing language? No. He 
 was a dilettante. He preferred, like many others, to dis- 
 cuss the evils above without reference to those below the 
 surface, and took no active part in that department where 
 delegates are made or elected and where candidates are 
 selected." 
 
 The following, under the heading " The Honor that 
 Endures," from the Philadelphia Times, August 26, is in 
 some sort a reply to the above : 
 
 " The tributes of many of the partisan organs to the in- 
 tegrity, attainments, and political efforts of the late Henry 
 Armitt Brown must attract the attention of intelligent 
 readers. He was of the class of resolute men against 
 whose teachings in modern jjolitics the mere partisan organs 
 were tuned to their steadiest pitcli, and the triumph of his 
 dream of a purified political system was what they most 
 adroitly and persistently antagonized, and what they most 
 feared as the inevitable end of their mission. The journal 
 that was ever to the front in the effort to prove that Mr. 
 Brown was always doing the right thing at the wrong time 
 and in the wrong way, and which has long been trained to 
 the obedience that treated every appeal for reform as an 
 affront to the party, now tells how the time might have 
 come when Mr. Brown would have spoken for Philadelphia 
 in Congress, and felicitates itself on the promise of such 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 201 
 
 honors in store for the one for whom every good citizen 
 mourns to-day. Doubtless the time would hiive come, but 
 it would have been only when machine politicians and 
 machine organs had perished from our contests. The Sun- 
 day Transcript, with more candor, strikes the average dis- 
 tinction between the faithful and eloquent reformer and 
 the leaders he antagonized, as it explains what it regards 
 as the failure of Mr. Brown as a politician by reminding 
 us that he failed to attend the primary elections. Doubt- 
 less Henry Arniitt Brown did not trouble himself to attend 
 political primaries, and none could better explain why he 
 so abstained than the shrewd and well-schooled leader in 
 such contests who presides over the editorial columns of 
 that journal. Mr. Brown was no novice in anything of 
 which patient research, keen observation, and intelligent 
 appreciation of men could advise him, and he well knew 
 that a half-score of regular primary managers would carry 
 any precinct at a primary conflict against five times their 
 number of men of the faith of Mr. Brown, even if all of 
 them voted solid for desired candidates. He was not a 
 great man in the battles where chicanery and brute force 
 were the implements of Avarfare, and therefore 'he failed 
 to recognize that higher duty of the citizen, — to go to the 
 delegate elections.' In that regard 'he was a dilettante,' 
 because he knew no arts but those of honesty, manly effort, 
 and unswerving devotion to the right. 
 
 " Looking back over the local battles of Philadelphia 
 during the last ten years, no one man has commanded such 
 enduring tributes from his antagonists as has Henry Armitt 
 Brown ; and those who hasten to judge his campaigns as 
 failures in practical results are strangely insensible to the 
 living witnesses and varied evidence about them. There 
 has not been a great movement against official wrong and 
 
 14 
 
202 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 for a better rule in city, State, and nation, that has not in- 
 spired the matchless eloquence of the fallen champion of 
 reform, and slowly but surely his efforts were ripening into 
 fruition. Compare the authority of Pliiladelphia to-day, 
 with the authority that defiantly ruled when he first braved 
 power and resentment to demand fidelity and competency 
 in public trust, and there can be none so blind as not to 
 appreciate the high measure of practical success that crowned 
 his brave and patriotic efforts. To the young men of the 
 nation, and especially of his native city, the courage and 
 struggles and success of this young man will stand out in 
 singleness of grandeur as the example of a life that left his 
 community and his country better than he found it. Others 
 won honors which they denied to his conceded merits, but 
 when they and their unseemly honors shall have reached 
 generous forgetfulness, it will be remembered how, in the 
 dark days of misrule, one voice, more eloquent than all 
 others, gave silvered lining to the clouds, and made justice 
 and integrity respected in the councils of our rulers." 
 
 Omitting other notices from papers all over the coun- 
 try, we give this letter, which appeared in the Nation of 
 August 29 : 
 
 " To THE Editor of the Nation. 
 
 " Sir, — The death of Henry Armitt Brown, which this 
 community so deeply deplores, is really a public calamity ; 
 and, even while our grief is freshest and keenest, I cannot 
 forbear from stating to the readers of the Nation some of 
 the qualities which compelled us to regard him as a man 
 who gave great promise of future usefulness. 
 
 " He was a ripe scholar, not only in the classics, in his- 
 tory, philosophy, and literature, but he also spoke and 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 203 
 
 wrote modern languages with unusual accuracy and ele- 
 gance. He possessed special aptitude for society, and was 
 the centre of every social gathering of which he was a part 
 by the charm of his conversation. He was a clear and 
 forcible writer, using his brilliant rhetoric and his admira- 
 ble gift of humor only when they were aids to the enforce- 
 ment of his argument. He was entitled to be called, 
 without any exaggeration, an accomplished orator. His 
 judgment in political matters was so excellent that he could 
 foresee and describe many of the grave misfortunes which 
 would follow the attempt to consider as judicial the func- 
 tions of the returning boards of Florida and Louisiana. 
 His sense of honor was so delicate that he forbade his 
 friends to solicit office for him, declaring that he could not 
 enjoy it unless it were freely conferred, upon the ground of 
 his fitness for it. 
 
 " And above and beyond all these claims to our regard, 
 the words which Mr. Burke wrote of his dead son exactly 
 describe him, — ' He was made a public creature.' His 
 guiding and controlling purpose was to try to make the 
 government of his country jjurer and stronger and better 
 in all ways than he found it. I need hardly add that he 
 was the instinctive foe of all manner of baseness and cor- 
 ruption in our jjolitics, or that he was as chivalric in utter- 
 ing his convictions as he was conscientious in forming 
 them. The simple truth is that he never had any trouble 
 in choosing the right side of any political questions, for he 
 never regarded it as a possible aid of his own ambition, but 
 simply in its relation to the public welfare, and the causes 
 he championed furnish the best evidence of the manner of 
 man he was : municipal reform, honest money, civil ser- 
 vice reform, revenue reform, the restoration of fraternal 
 feelings between all sections of the country, and the use of 
 
204 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 the lessons of the Revolution for the elevation of the spirit 
 of our public life ; for these great labors he was thoroughly 
 equipped, and to them, if he had been spared to us, he 
 would have devoted his life. 
 
 " These are the reasons why we who knew and loved 
 him feel sure that not only this city and State, but the 
 whole country has suffered in his untimely death, for, un- 
 fortunately, these other words of Mr. Burke are also appli- 
 cable : ' At this exigent moment the loss of a finished man 
 is not easily supplied.' 
 
 "Wayne MacYeagh. 
 
 " Philadelphia, August 28, 1878." 
 
 From the proceedings of tlie Massachusetts Historical 
 Society, at their meeting September 12, 1878, we make 
 this extract : 
 
 " The president (Hon. Robert C. Winthrop) then said : 
 
 "'Before turning to other topics, I am unwilling to 
 omit the opportunity of mentioning another loss to his- 
 torical literature, which has occurred within a few weeks 
 past. 
 
 " ' I had made a memorandum, in my notes for the 
 present meeting, to ask the concurrence of the council of 
 our society in proposing the name of Henry Armitt Brown, 
 of Philadelphia, as one of our corresponding members, and 
 I have no reason to doubt that lie would have been nomi- 
 nated to-day. 
 
 " ' He will be remembered by many of us as the eloquent 
 young Philadelphian who came on as a delegate to our 
 Centennial Tea-Party Celebration, in December, 1873, and 
 made an admirable address at Faneuil Hall on that oc- 
 casion. In the following year he delivered a really bril- 
 liant historical discourse in Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia, 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 205 
 
 on the one hundredth anniversary of the meeting of the 
 old Congress of 1774, which deservedly attracted great 
 attention. 
 
 " ' In December last he delivered another historical ora- 
 tion, of hardly inferior interest, at Burlington, New Jersey, 
 in commemoration of the settlement of that place by the 
 Quakers. More recently still, he had been engaged to 
 deliver the orations on the Centennial Anniversary of Val- 
 ley Forge, on the 19th of June last, and of the Battle of 
 Monmouth, on the 29th of the same month. 
 
 " ' As the result of the fulfilling of the first of these 
 engagements, and preparing for the second, he was struck 
 down with a fever, from which he did not recover. 
 
 " ' He died on the 21st of August last, in the thirty- 
 fourth year of his age. 
 
 " ' Mr. Brown has always kindly sent me everything 
 which he printed, and I have never failed to read whatever 
 he sent ; and I know of no young man or old man, of his 
 period, who has exhibited greater power or skill in work- 
 ing up the historical materials which he labored with so 
 much zeal and enthusiasm in collecting. He was an orator 
 of no second class, and his sketches and illustrations of the 
 scenes and events which he depicted were most felicitous 
 and impressive. 
 
 " ' Had his life and health been prolonged, he could 
 hardly have failed to rise to great distinction ; and his death 
 at so early an age, and after such signal evidences of his 
 taste and talent for historical research and description, en- 
 title him to be remembered in our records, though it be too 
 late to inscribe his name on our rolls. 
 
 " ' I am glad to observe a statement in the papers that 
 his anniversary addresses are to be made up into a memo- 
 rial volume.' " 
 
206 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 In his annual message, in January, 1879, Governor 
 Hartranft made a graceful allusion to three Pennsylvanians 
 who had died during the previous year, — H. A. Brown, 
 Bayard Taylor, and Morton MeMichael. He said of the 
 first of these : 
 
 " The country has suffered the loss during the year of 
 three distinguished Pennsylvanians. On the 21st day of 
 August, in the thirty-fourth year of his age, Henry Armitt 
 Brown died at Philadelphia. He belonged to public life 
 only in the highest sense of simple citizenship, for he held 
 no office, except the high position of a leader of men, and 
 wielded no authority, except the noble influence of a pure 
 and strong life. At the time of his death he had just com- 
 pleted the masterly orations on Revolutionary events, upon 
 which his reputation as a scholar and orator will eventually 
 rest, after the personal recollections of him have faded into 
 tradition." 
 
 The following tribute is from the pen of Mr. George 
 William Curtis : 
 
 " The death of Henry Armitt Brown, of Philadelphia, 
 is more than a sorrow to his friends : it is a loss to the 
 country. He was a young man of a lofty sense of political 
 duty and personal honor, of force and purity of character, 
 admirably accomplished, holding sound views upon the 
 most important public questions, and able to maintain them 
 with unusual eloquence and skill. He had, no doubt, the 
 power, also, of scorning the mean aspersions and insinua- 
 tions, the lies and taunts and ribaldry, which every such 
 man encounters from those whom he disturbs. He was, 
 indeed, a type of the American who best understands the 
 true value of American principles and institutions. 
 
 " Mr. Brown did what every young American, and not 
 
PUBLIC NOTICES. 207 
 
 least those of fortunate circumstances and of high educa- 
 tion, ought to do. He made himself acquainted with 
 public affairs, and he took an active interest in politics. 
 It is not possible, of course, tliat every man in the country 
 should devote his life, or even a great deal of time, to 
 politics ; but he should have sufficient interest and knowl- 
 edge and independence to exercise a positive and, in the true 
 sense, conservative influence upon them. It is because of a 
 general feeling that men like JNIr. Brown can do no good in 
 politics that there are so few men like him in politics. If 
 there really be no need of them in our system, then a 
 republic has no need of its best citizens. But one man 
 like him, earnest, intelligent, sagacious, unselfish, courage- 
 ous, at once shows by what he does alone how much a 
 hundred such men together might do. Demagogues appeal 
 only to passion and prejudice, swaying the brute force of 
 ignorance, and count upon a numerical majority. Their 
 reasoning or their instinct is, that the mass of men will 
 always be venal and ignorant, and therefore that if a leader 
 M'ould have a majority, he nmst appeal to the lowest pas- 
 sions. Men like Mr. Brown know that the real justifica- 
 tion of a popular government is the fact that brute force is 
 always subordinated to brain force, and that immoral brain 
 force has no advantage even with ignorant people. No 
 man who has ever faced a mob really feared it if he knew 
 that he would be heard. The demagogue, of every kind 
 and degree, therefore, tries to silence his oj)ponent by insult, 
 or threat, or ridicule. He spurts dirty water, believing that 
 a decent man will be unwilling to stand it. But if a man 
 really means to do something, he will not heed blackguards. 
 " Mr. Brown's abilities, tastes, and circumstances fitted him 
 so well for public life that his death is the loss of a man who 
 might have been of conspicuous service. It is said that a 
 
208 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 
 
 high official position was open to him had he cared for it. 
 But he showed always that his concern was less for office 
 than for a real influence. And it is always questionable in 
 the case of such men whether they do not lose rather than 
 gain influence by entering official life. There are obviously 
 two ways of serving the public, either by official action or 
 by criticising ])roperly the tone and methods of official 
 action, and the time and opportunity necessary for the last 
 are not always attainable with proper fidelity to the first. 
 The last is one of tlie chief functions of the press, and in 
 the degree that it is honestly performed the power and 
 consideration of the press increase. It was in such sub- 
 jects that Mr. Brown was interested, and for such debates 
 that he was especially equipped. We had no personal 
 acquaintance with him that would authorize us to speak of 
 delightful qualities and charms of social intercourse known 
 to us only by report. But we sincerely deplore in his death 
 the loss of a brave and sincere American, while all who are 
 striving, each in his own way, for 
 
 ' nobler modes of life, 
 With sweeter manners, purer laws,' 
 
 will surely find an inspiration in the remembrance of this 
 young fellow-laborer." 
 
 The thought suggested in the last extract, of the impor- 
 tant role that the independent political worker may play, 
 expresses one of the rare felicities of Mr. Brown's life. 
 His life conclusively proved that in a free country a man 
 of brains and of character does not need office ; and, above 
 all, that he need not be an office-seeker, which trade is 
 the curse of our land. He testified to the fact that the 
 citizen is a power in himself, and that he requires no posi- 
 
CONCLUSION. 209 
 
 tion from which to exert his power other than the popular 
 system in which he is set, and which aifords him all the 
 opportunity he Avants for self-development. 
 
 The citizen is the highest object of the republic. He is 
 in fact its noblest product. Men of brains and character 
 are often greater powers as citizens than they would be as 
 rulers. They are raised above the ordinary motives and 
 temptations wdiich aSsail those in office, and yet, as men of 
 intellectual breadth and moral earnestness, they cannot help 
 studying politics, which is simply the science of men's living 
 together in the State, or in those common relations that 
 promote their best public and private well-being. From 
 such citizens flow the ideas and influences which conserve, 
 purify, and mould political institutions. If, with this genius 
 for independent political thinking, there be combined a 
 positive talent for political and public life, then we have 
 the best possible material for making statesmen. 
 
 But if the cultivated portion of the community — what 
 the Germans call Die Gebildeten — by the very conditions 
 of their culture are to be shut out of this public life, then 
 it is time to ask to what is education tending, and what is 
 the worth of our higher schools of learning? The progress 
 of science itself does not answer this question. There are 
 interests superior even to the advancement of knowledge. 
 There is a wider interest, a larger and more generous con- 
 ception of humanity, contained in the idea of the nation, 
 than in the idea of the individual man, however highly 
 developed by culture. The students in our universities 
 should steadfastly resist the narrowing influence of their 
 training in any specific field of knowledge, and should not 
 permit themselves to be reared in that intellectual exclu- 
 siveness by which this broader instinct of humanity, this 
 grander idea of public spirit, becomes deadened. 
 
210 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 
 
 Culture in any genuine field of knowledge ought to have 
 a most liberalizing eifect upon the nature ; but, unless it be 
 accompanied by other influences, we know that it is very apt 
 to circumscribe rather than enlarge the sympathies ; and, in 
 a democracy above all, an aristocracy of learning may be 
 almost as offensive as an aristocracy of rank, or of wealth. 
 But when this wealth of culture, when these rich gifts of 
 knowledge, are meant to be used for the benefit of all, are 
 pervaded by the idea of the j)ublic good, then study is lifted 
 into a nobler plane of work ; then the higher spirit of 
 humanity comes into it, and the old narrow forms are in- 
 fused with new life and power. 
 
 Young men in our American colleges should, we think, 
 ever look forward to becoming public men, the avowed and 
 recognized servants of the republic; and they should act 
 upon the principle that from the very talents intrusted to 
 them they are expected to become the strong stays and 
 helpers of the commonwealth. By so doing they will fol- 
 low in his footsteps whose life has been imperfectly set forth 
 in these j)ages, and who fell on the " high places of the 
 field," to make more room for them to follow. 
 
HISTORICAL ORATIONS. 
 
ORATION 
 
 DELIVERED IN 
 
 OAEPEISTTEES' HALL, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 THE ONE HUNDEEDTH ANNIVEESAEY 
 
 OF THE MEETING OF 
 
 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 "It is a tale brief and familiar to all; for the examples by which you may 
 still be happy are to be found not abroad, men of Athens, but at home." 
 
 Demosthenes, 3d Olvnthiac. 
 
I 
 
ORATION. 
 
 We have come here to-day in obedience to that natural 
 impulse which bids a people do honor to its past. We 
 have assembled to commemorate a great event, — one of the 
 most famous in our history. In the midst of prosperity 
 and profound peace, in the presence of the honorable and 
 honored Vice-President of the United States, of the chosen 
 rulers of the people, of the members of the present and 
 other Congresses — the successors of the statesmen of 1774 
 — of the representatives of the learned professions, and of 
 every department of human enterprise and industry and 
 skill, we have gathered beneath this roof to celebrate, with 
 reverent and appropriate services, the one hundredth anni- 
 versary of the meeting of the First Continental Congress. 
 
 It is a great privilege to be here, and we have to thank 
 the Carpenters' Company for it.* The Carpenters' Com- 
 pany of Philadelphia has always been a patriotic body. 
 In the months which preceded the Revolution it freely 
 offered its hall for the meetings of the people ; and besides 
 the high honor of having entertained the Congress of 1774, 
 
 * " The Carpenters' Company of the city and county of Philadel- 
 phia" was founded in the year 1724, and has continued to the pres- 
 ent moment in activity and vigor. It is made up entirely of Master 
 Carpenters, who, at the time of their election, have been actively 
 engaged in business, and numbers now ninety members. 
 
 215 
 
216 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 it can point to its having sheltered the Committees of Safety 
 and the Provincial Committee for a long time beneath this 
 roof. The Carpenters' Company of Philadelphia is a very 
 ancient body. It came into existence when George the 
 First was king, when Benjamin Franklin was a printer's 
 lad, and Samuel Johnson was a boy at school. It was 
 founded fifty years before an American Congress met, and 
 it is now half as old again as American independence. 
 And more than this, it is a very honorable body. Its 
 members have been counted among our best citizens for 
 industry and character. Both this hall, in which the nation 
 may be said to have been born, and that other, where in 
 1776 its articles of apprenticeship were cancelled, are the 
 monuments of its earlier skill, and there are few houses in 
 this City of Homes in which its members have not had a 
 hand. And, after all, how fitting does it seem that the hall 
 of the Carpenters' Company should have been the scene of 
 that event which we have assembled to commemorate ! The 
 men of the First Congress were architects themselves ; the 
 master-builders of a Republic founded on the equality of 
 man — the highest types of which, in the two struggles 
 through which it has had to pass, have been Benjamin 
 Franklin, the mechanic, and the farmer's lad whose name 
 was Abraham Lincoln. They represented among them- 
 selves every rank of life — the lawyer, the merchant, the 
 farmer, the mechanic — and they did more to dignify Labor 
 and advance the cause of Humanity in the seven weeks 
 during which they sat in this place than all the parliaments 
 of the world have done in twice as many centuries. If 
 there be anything good, if there be anything noble, if there 
 be anything precious in the American Revolution, it is just 
 this — that it secured for every man an equal chance. Far 
 wiser than those who have attempted a similar work be- 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 217 
 
 neath other skies, the men who achieved that Kevolution 
 attacked no vested riglits, set up no false notions of equality, 
 nor the oppression of the many for the tyranny of the few, 
 nor did they break the chain that bound them to an hon- 
 orable past. They sought rather to make Virtue and Intel- 
 ligence the t.est of manhood — to strike down Prerogative 
 and Privilege, and open the gates of happiness to all alike. 
 And as I contemplate their glorious struggle at this dis- 
 tance of time, and think of the national life which it has 
 blessed us with — a century of which is surely a great 
 achievement for any people* — I cannot but think it to 
 have been a happy omen that it was inaugurated here. It 
 is impossible, in the time which I can allow myself, to at- 
 tempt a description of the causes of the Revolution. The 
 
 * The histoi-ian Freeman, writing in 1862, says (History of Fed- 
 eral Government, vol. i. p. 112): "At all events, the American 
 Union has actually secured, for what is really a long period of time, 
 a greater amount of combined peace and freedom than was ever 
 before enjoyed by so large a portion of the earth's surface. There 
 have been, and still are, vaster despotic empires, but never before 
 has so large an inhabited territory remained for more than seventy 
 years in the enjoyment at once of internal freedom and of exemption 
 from the scourge of internal war." 
 
 Professor Ilojspin, of Yale College, writes me of a conversation he 
 had some years ago with Professor Karl von Raumer, of Berlin : " I 
 asked him what was his opinion as to the perpetuity of republican 
 institutions. lie said : ' Under certain conditions fulfilled, they 
 would be more permanent than any other form. But,' said he, 
 starting up from his chair with great energy, 'if they should fail, 
 fifty years of American freedom would be worth a thousand years 
 of Siberian despotism !' " 
 
 A similar thought is expressed by Freeman in page 52 of the vol- 
 ume above quoted: "The one century of Athenian greatness, from 
 the expulsion of the Thirty Tyrants to the defeat of Aigospotamos, 
 is worth millenniums of the life of Egypt or Assyria." 
 
 15 
 
218 THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 
 
 duty which I have to discharge is sufficiently difficult. I 
 shall tax your patience, at any rate, I fear (for the trial is 
 rather how little than how much to say), but the story 
 must needs be long, and the occasion seems one of historic 
 dignity. 
 
 It was only a month ago that the inhabitants of a little 
 island in i\\Q northern corner of the Atlantic Ocean met on 
 their Law Mount and celebrated, with song and saga, 
 their one thousandth anniversary. That hardy race, which 
 counts among its achievements the firet discoveiy of this 
 continent, has witnessed many memorable and strange 
 events. Lo(!ked up in snow and ice, protected by the 
 warring elements, it has watched the growth and decay of 
 empires, the rise and fall of nations, the most wonderful 
 changes in every quarter of the globe. But it has seen no 
 spectacle more extraordinary than that which we commem- 
 orate to-day, and in all the sterile pages of its thousand 
 years of history it can point to no such achievements as fill 
 up the first century of this younger nation. 
 
 The tendency of the American colonies toward union 
 had frequently shown itself before 1774. There was, of 
 course, little sympathy at the outset between the Puritan 
 of New England and the Virginian cavalier, the Roman 
 Catholic of Maryland and the Pennsylvania Quaker. 
 Each had, in times past, suffered at the other's hands, 
 and the smart of their injuries w^as not soon forgotten. 
 But Time, that great healer, came after a while to efface 
 its sharpness, and when the third generation had grown up, 
 little bitterness remained. For, after all, there is no sym- 
 pathy like that which is begotten by common suffering. 
 The trials of these men had been much the same. The 
 spirit of persecution had driven forth all alike. Their 
 ideas of liberty — narrow as they were at first — did not mate- 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 219 
 
 rially differ, and their devotion to them had led all alike 
 across the seas. They spoke the same language, inherited 
 the same traditions, revered the same examples, worshipped 
 the same God. Nor had the obstacles which they had 
 overcome been different. Hcjit and cold, fire and sword, 
 hunger and thirst — they had all experienced these. The 
 Frenchman on the North and the Indian along the AVestern 
 frontier had constantly threatened them with a common 
 danger, and when the news of Braddock's defeat came 
 down the slopes of the Alleghany Mountains it sent a 
 thrill through hearts in Georgia and New Hampshire, as 
 well as in Pennsylvania and Maryland. As early as the 
 year 1754 the Indian troubles and the necessity for united 
 action had led to the assembling of a convention or council 
 at Albany, at which seven colonies were represented. The 
 scheme for a perpetual union which the genius of Franklin 
 had then devised was not successful, it is true, but the meet- 
 ing under sucli circumstances awakened a strong desire for 
 union among his countrymen; and when, in 1765, the times 
 had changed, and the mother -country, victorious over 
 France, turned her hand against her children, the sense of 
 danger found expression in the convention which the Stamp 
 Act brought together in New York. I pass without com- 
 ment over the years which intervened between 1765 and 
 1774. The Stamp Act had been repealed, but a succession 
 of severer measures had brought things from bad to worse. 
 Great Britain was in the zenith of her power. The colonies 
 were thirteen in number, and contained about two millions 
 and a half of inhabitants.* Let us, then, in the course of 
 the hour which we are to spend together here, endeavor to 
 go back in imagination to the summer of 1774. 
 
 * Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vii. p. 128. 
 
220 THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 
 
 Here in Pbilatlelphia there have been feverish clays. 
 The news of the determination of the ministry to shut up 
 the port of Boston, followed, as it is soon after, by the 
 attempt to do away with the ancient charter of Massachu- 
 setts, and to remove to Great Britain the trial of offences 
 committed in America, has aroused the patriotic resistance 
 of the whole country. In every town and hamlet, from 
 New Hampshire to the southern boundary of Georgia, bold 
 protests are recorded by the people, and Boston is declared 
 to be suffering in the common cause. The first day of 
 June, when the Port Bill goes into effect, is everywhere 
 kept as a day of fasting and humiliation. Flags are low- 
 ered to half-mast, shops shut up, and the places of worsliip 
 crowded with thoughtful men. Nine-tenths of the houses 
 in Philadelphia are closed in mourning, and the famous 
 bells of Christ Church are muffled in distress. Nor are 
 the fellow-countrymen of the Bostonians content with this 
 manifestation of their sympathy. From every part of the 
 colonies come contributions for the suftering poor. Money, 
 provisions, and articles of clothing pour in from every side. 
 There is but one sentiment in the great majority of the 
 people — a determination to support the men of Massaehii- 
 setts to the end. They were not unconscious of the dangers 
 of such a course. The disparity between the power of Great 
 Britain and their own was far more apparent to them than 
 it can ever be to us. They saw her the first power of the 
 affe — fresh from the memorable wars in which she had 
 destroyed the naval and colonial power of France. The 
 air still rang with the cheers with which they had greeted 
 her successive triumphs, each of which they had come to 
 look upon as their own. Her armies had been victorious 
 in every land, her fleets triumphant on the most distant 
 seas, and whatever of spirit, of courage, and of endurance 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 221 
 
 they micjht believe themselves to possess, they had inherited 
 from her. "We have not fit men for the times," wrote 
 one of the leadinej actors in tlie drama that was about to 
 begin ; " we are deficient in genius, in education, in travel, 
 in fortune, in everything. I feel unutterable anxiety."* 
 But there is no thought of yielding in anybody's breast. 
 " God grant us wisdom and fortitude," writes John Adams, 
 in June, and he speaks the universal sentiment of his coun- 
 trymen. " Should the opposition be suppressed, should this 
 country submit, what infamy and ruin ! God forbid ! Death 
 in any form is less terrible."t It was out of this conscious- 
 ness of weakness that the strength of the Revolution grew. 
 Had Massachusetts stood alone, had a feeling of strength 
 seduced the colonies to remain divided, the end would have 
 been far different. Singly, they would have offered but 
 a slight resistance — together, they "were invincible. And 
 the blind policy of the English king and ministry steadily 
 fostered this sentiment of union. The closing of the port 
 of Boston was intended by its authors to punish Massachu- 
 setts alone, but the merchant of Charleston or New York 
 saw in the act the attempt to exercise a power which might 
 one day be directed against him, and the Pennsylvanian 
 could have little feeling of security in submitting his 
 valued institutions to the mercy of those who sought, by 
 an act of Parliament, to sweep away the ancient charter of 
 Massachusetts. The cause of one colony became the cause 
 of all. The rights of Massachusetts were the rights of 
 America. 
 
 All through the spring and summer there has been earn- 
 est consultation. Couriers are riding here and there with 
 messages from the Committees of Correspondence which, 
 
 * Works of John Adams, vol. ii. p. 338. f Ibid. 
 
222 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 thanks to Samuel Adams, have been established in every 
 village. A constant interchange of counsels has soon be- 
 gotten confidence; with better understanding has come a 
 sense of strength. Each colony seems ready for her share 
 of the responsibility, and no town, however feeble, feels 
 alone. Boston is strengthened in her glorious martyrdom 
 as her sister towns reach forth to clasp her shackled hands, 
 and the cry goes forth, at last, for the assembling of a 
 Continental Congress. " Permit me to suggest a general 
 Congress of deputies from the several Houses of Assembly 
 on the Continent,"* John Hancock says on the 4th of 
 March, "as the most effectual method of establishing a 
 union for the security of our rights and liberties." "A 
 Congress, and then an assembly of States,"f cries Samuel 
 Adams, in April, 1773. Here is a call for a general 
 Congress in the newspaper which I hold in my hand — a 
 journal published in Philadelphia on the 11th of October^ 
 1773. " A Congress," suggest the Sons of Liberty of New 
 York in the spring of the following year, and in all parts 
 of the country the cry meets with a response. The first 
 official call comes from Virginia, dated May 28, 1774. 
 On the 20th of that month the Whigs of Philadelphia 
 have met, to the number of three hundred, in the long 
 room of the City Tavern on Second Street, and, after con- 
 sultation, unanimously resolved that the governor be asked 
 at once to call a meeting of the Assembly of this province, 
 and a Committee of Correspondence be appointed to write 
 to the men of Boston " that we consider them as suifering 
 in the general cause ;" " that we truly feel for their unhappy 
 situation ;" " that we recommend to them firmness, pru- 
 
 * Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vi. p. 508. 
 t Ibid., p. 456. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 223 
 
 dence, and moderation ;" and that " we shall continue to 
 evince our firm adherence to the cause of American lib- 
 erty."* 
 
 The messenger who bears this letter finds the country 
 all alive. The Boston Committee sends southward a calm 
 statement of the situation, and asks for general counsel and 
 support. Rumor follows rumor as the days go by, and 
 presently a courier comes riding down the dusty King's 
 Highway from the North, and never draws rein till he 
 reaches the Merchants' Coffee-House, w^here the patriots 
 are assembled in committee. The intelligence he brings is 
 stirring, for men come forth with flushed cheeks and spark- 
 ling eyes. And soon it is on every lip. Behold, great 
 news ! Bold Sam Adams has locked the Assembly door 
 on the king's officers at Salem, and the General Court has 
 named Philadelphia and the 1st of September as the place 
 and time for the assembling of a Congress of deputies 
 from all the colonies. Twelve hundred miles of coast is 
 soon aflame. Nor is the enthusiasm confined to youth 
 alone. Hopkins and Hawley in New England, and Gads- 
 den in Carolina, are as full of fire as their younger breth- 
 ren, and far away, in a corner of the British capital, a 
 stout old gentleman in a suit of gray cloth, with spectacles 
 on his nose, and a bright twinkle in his eye, is steadily 
 preparing for the struggle which he — wise, far-sighted, 
 
 * Pennsylvania Packet for June 6, 1774. The reply to the Bos- 
 tonians was written by the Rev. Dr. William Smith, first provost of 
 the University of Pennsylvania (who did service afterward as one of 
 the Provincial Convention of 1774). An interesting account of this 
 will be found on pages 41 and 42 of the valuable " Memoir of the 
 Rev. William Smith, D.D. :" for a copy of which I am indebted to 
 its author, Charles J. Stille, Esq., LL.D., the present provost of the 
 University. 
 
224 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 great-soiiled Franklin — has long foreseen and hoped for. 
 One by one the colonies choose delegates. Connecticut 
 first, Massachusetts next, Maryland the third, Ncav Hamp- 
 shire on the 21st of July, Pennsylvania on the 22d, and 
 so on until all but Georgia have elected representatives. 
 Yet still king and Parliament are deaf and blind, royal 
 governors are writing : " JNIassachusetts stands alone ; there 
 will be no Congress of the other colonies." Boston lies 
 still, the shipping motionless in her harbor, the merchandise 
 rotting on her Avharves ; and elsewhere, as of old, the dull 
 routine of provincial life goes jogging on. The creaking 
 stages lumber to and fro. Ships sail slowly up to town, 
 or swing out into the stream waiting for a wind to take 
 them out to sea. Men rise and go to work, eat, lie down 
 and sleep. The sun looks doAvn on hot, deserted streets, 
 and so the long days of summer pass until September 
 comes. 
 
 With the first days of the new month there is excite- 
 ment among the Philadelphia Whigs. All through the 
 week the delegates to Congress have been arriving. Yes- 
 terday, Christopher Gadsden and Thomas Lynch, Esquires, 
 landed at the wharf, having come by sea from Charleston, 
 South Carolina ; to-day, Colonel Nathaniel Folsom and 
 Major John Sullivan, the delegates from New Hampshire, 
 ride into town.* The friends of liberty are busy. The 
 great coach-and-fourf of John Dickinson rolls rapidly 
 through the streets as he hastens to greet the Virginian 
 gentlemen who have just arrived, and in the nortliern 
 suburbs a company of horsemen has galloped out the old 
 
 * Pennsylvania Packet for August 29, 1774. 
 
 f "Mr. Dickinson, the farmer of Pennsylvania, came in his 
 coach, with four beautiful horses, to Mr. Ward's lodgings to see 
 us." — J. Adamses Works, vol. ii. p. oGO. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 225 
 
 King's Ivoad to welcome the delegates from Massachusetts, 
 who have ai-rived at Frankford, with Sam Adams at their 
 head.* With Saturday night they are all here, save those 
 from North Carolina, who were not chosen till the 25th, 
 but are on their way, 
 
 Sunday comes — the last Sabbath of the old provincial 
 days. The bells of Christ Church chime sweetly in the 
 morning air, and her aisles are crowded beyond their wont ; 
 but the solemn service glides along, as in other days, with 
 its prayer for king and queen, so soon to be read for the 
 last time within those walls ; and the thought, perhaps, 
 never breaks the stillness of tlie Quakers' meeting-house 
 that a thing has come to pass that will make their quiet 
 town immortal. Then the long afternoon fades away, and 
 the sun sinks down yonder over Valley Forge. 
 
 The fifth day of September dawns at last. At ten in the 
 morning the delegates assemble at the Merchants' CoflPee- 
 House.f From that point they march on foot along the 
 
 * J. Adams's Works, vol. ii. p. 357: "After dinner we stopped 
 at Frankford, about five miles out of town. A number of carriages 
 and gentlemen came out of Philadelphia to meet us. . . . We were 
 introduced to all these gentlemen, and cordially welcomed to Phila- 
 delphia. We then rode into the town, and, dirty, dusty, and fa- 
 tigued as we were, we could not resist the importunity to go to the 
 tavern, the most genteel one in America." The important conse- 
 quences of this meeting at Frankford are set forth in a letter of 
 Adams to T. Pickering in 1822, printed in a note on page 512 of the 
 same volume. — Vide, also, vol. i. p. 151. 
 
 t Then called the City Tavern. It stood on the west side of 
 Second Street, above Walnut, at the corner of Gold Street (or Bank 
 Alley), and had been recently opened by Daniel Smith. It was 
 already the rendezvous of the Whigs, as the London Coffee-House 
 (still standing), at Front and Market, had long been of the Tory 
 party. — Vide Westcott's History of Philadelphia, Philadelphia Li- 
 brary copy, vol. ii. p. 364. 
 
226 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 street until they reach the thresliold of this hall. And 
 what a memorable procession ! The young men cluster 
 around them as they pass, for these are their chosen leaders 
 in the struggle that has come. The women peep at them, 
 wonderingly, from the bowed windows of their low-roofed 
 houses, little dreaming, perhaps, that these are the fathers 
 of a republic for the sake of which their hearts are soon to 
 be wrung and their homes made desolate. Here a royalist 
 — " Tory" he is soon to be called — turns out for them to 
 pass, scarcely attempting to hide the sneer that trembles on 
 his lips, or some stern-browed Friend, a man of peace, his 
 broad-brimmed hat set firmly on his head, goes by, with 
 measured footsteps, on the other side. Yonder urchin, 
 playing by the roadside, turns his head suddenly to stare at 
 this stately company. Does he dream of the wonders he 
 shall live to see? Men whose names his children shall 
 revere through all descending generations have brushed by 
 him while he played, and yet he knows them not. And so 
 along the street, and down the narrow court, and up the 
 broad steps the Congress takes its way. 
 
 The place of meeting has been well chosen. Some of 
 the Pennsylvanians would have preferred the State-House, 
 but that is the seat of government, and the Assembly, 
 which has adjourned, has made no provision for the meet- 
 ing of Congress there. Here, too, have been held the 
 town-meetings at which the people have protested against 
 the acts of Parliament, and the Carpenters' Company, 
 which owns the hall, is made up of the friends of liberty. 
 It has offered its hall to the delegates, and the place seems 
 fit. It is " a spacious hall," says one of them,* and above 
 
 * John Adams: from whose Journal or Correspondence I have 
 taken the personal descriptions in nearly every instance. 
 
 i 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 227 
 
 there is "a chamber, with an excellent library," "a con- 
 venient chamber opposite to this, and a long entry where 
 gentlemen may walk." The question is j)ut whether the 
 gentlemen are satisfied, and passed in the affirmative ; the 
 members are soon seated and the doors are shut. The 
 silence is first broken by Mr. Lynch, of South Carolina. 
 " There is a gentleman present," he says, " who has presided 
 with great dignity over a very respectable society, and greatly 
 to the advantage of America ;" and he " moves that the 
 Honorable Peyton Randolph, Esquire, one of the delegates 
 from Virginia, be appointed chairman." He doubts not it 
 will be unanimous. It is so, and yonder " large, well- 
 looking man," carefully dressed, with well-powdered wig 
 and scarlet coat, rises and takes the chair.* The commis- 
 sions of the delegates are then produced and read, after 
 which Mr. Lynch nominates as secretary Mr. Charles 
 Thomson, "a gentleman," he says, "of family, fortune, 
 and character." And thereupon, with that singular wisdom 
 which our early statesmen showed in their selection of men 
 for all posts of responsibility, the Congress calls into his 
 country's service that admirable man, " the Sam Adams of 
 Philadelphia and the life of the cause of liberty ."f While 
 
 * During the delivery of this address an original portrait of Mr. 
 Randolph hung above the chair in which he sat during the sessions 
 of Congress. 
 
 t The Hon. Eli K. Price has kindly sent me the following interest- 
 ing account of the manner in which this was made known to Mr. 
 Thomson. The allusion in the address " reminded me," writes a 
 lady of Mr. Price's family, Miss Rebecca Embree, " of the great 
 simplicity of that appointment, as I have heard it related by Deborah 
 Logan, wife of Dr. George Logan, of Stenton, viz. : ' Charles Thom- 
 son had accompanied his wife on a bi'idal visit to Deborah Logan's 
 mother, Mary Parker Norris, who resided on Chestnut Street above 
 Fourth, where the custom-house now stands. Whilst there a mes- 
 
228 
 
 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 preliminaries are being despatched, let us take a look at 
 this company, for it is the most extraordinary assemblage 
 America has ever seen. There are fifty delegates present, 
 the representatives of eleven colonies. Georgia has had no 
 election, the North Carolinians have not yet arrived, and 
 John Dickinson, that " shadow, slender as a reed, and pale 
 as ashes," that Pennsylvania farmer who has sown the seeds 
 of empire, is not a member yet.* Directly in front, in a 
 seat of prominence, sits Richard Henry Lee. His brilliant 
 eye and Roman profile would make him a marked man in 
 any company. One hand has been injured, and is wrapped, 
 as you see, in a covering of black silk, but when he speaks 
 his movements are so graceful and his voice so sweet that 
 you forget the defect of gesture, for he is an orator — the 
 greatest in America, perhaps, save only one. That tall 
 
 senger arrived inquiring for Mr. Thomson, and informed him that 
 he was wanted at Carpenters' Hall. Being introduced to the com- 
 pany there assembled, he was requested to act as their secretary, 
 which he accordingly did.' " 
 
 * Justice is not done nowadays to the patriotic labors of John 
 Dickinson. The effect of his " Farmer's Letters" in preparing the 
 minds of his countrymen for resistance to Great Britain, can hardly 
 be exaggerated, and to him they owed the phrase, " No taxation 
 without representation." When the Congress of 1774 assembled, 
 no man in the colonies was more prominent than the Farmer, and 
 his influence upon its deliberations was very great. On page 13 of 
 the valuable " Early History of the Falls of Schuylkill, etc., etc.," by 
 Charles V. Hagner, Esq., will be found an interesting account, taken 
 partly from the Pennsi/lvania Gazette of May 12, 1768, of the pre- 
 sentation of a laudatory address to Mr. Dickinson by the Society of 
 Fort St. Davids. Other similar addresses Avere sent to him from 
 various parts of the colonies — one especially worthy of note being 
 signed by Dr. Benjamin Church, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, 
 Dr. Joseph Warren, and John Rowe, and enclosing resolutions 
 adopted at a town-meeting held in Boston. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 229 
 
 man ^vith the swarthy face, and black unpowdered hair, is 
 William Livingston of New Jersey — " no public speaker, 
 but sensible and learned." Beside him, with his slender 
 form bent forward, and his face lit with enthusiasm, sits 
 his son-in-law, John Jay, soon to be famous. He is the 
 youngest of the delegates, and yonder sits the oldest of 
 them all. His form is bent, his thin locks fringing a fore- 
 head bowed with age and honorable service, and his hands 
 shake tremulously as he folds them in his lap. It is 
 Stephen Hoj^kins, once Chief Justice of Rhode Island. 
 Close by him is his colleague, Samuel Ward, and Sherman 
 of Connecticut — that strong man whose name is to be 
 made honorable by more than one generation. Johnson 
 of Maryland is here, " that clear, cool head," and Paca, 
 his colleague, "a wise deliberator." Bland of Virginia, 
 is that learned-looking, "bookish man," beside "zealous, 
 hot-headed" Edward Rutledge. The Pennsylvanians are 
 grouped together at one side — Morton, Humphreys, 
 Mifflin, Rhoads, Biddle, Ross, and Galloway, the Speaker 
 of the Assembly. Bending forward to whisjicr in the 
 latter's ear is Duane of New York — that sly-looking 
 man, a little "squint-eyed" (John Adams has already 
 written of him), "very sensible and very artful." That 
 large-featured man, with the broad, open countenance, is 
 William Hooper; that other, with the Roman nose, 
 McKean of Delaware. Rodney, the latter's colleague, sits 
 beside him, " the oddest-looking man in the world — tall, 
 thin, pale, his face no bigger than a large apple, yet beam- 
 ing with sense, and wit, and humor." Yonder is Chris- 
 topher Gadsden, who has been preaching independence to 
 South Carolina these ten years past. He it is who, roused 
 by the report that the regulars have commenced to bombard 
 Boston, proposes to march northward and defeat Gage at 
 
230 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 once, before his reinforcements can arrive ; and when some 
 one timidly says that in the event of war the British will 
 destroy the seaport towns, turns on the speaker, with this 
 grand reply : " Our towns are built of brick and wood ; 
 if they are burned down we can rebuild them ; but liberty 
 once lost is gone forever." In all this famous company 
 perhaps the men most noticed are the Massachusetts 
 members. That colony has thus far taken the lead in the 
 struggle with the mother-country. A British army is 
 encamped upon her soil ; the gates of her chief town are 
 shut ; against her people the full force of the resentment 
 of king and Parliament is spent. Her sufferings called 
 this Congress into being, and now lend sad prominence to 
 her ambassadors. And of them surely Samuel Adams is 
 the chief. What must be his emotions as he sits here to- 
 day — he who "eats little, drinks little, and thinks much"* 
 — that strong man whose undaunted spirit has led his 
 countrymen up to the possibilities of this day? It is his 
 plan of correspondence, adopted, after a hard struggle, in 
 November, 1772, that first made feasible a union in the 
 common defence. He called for union as early as April, 
 1773. For that he had labored without ceasing and with- 
 out end, now arousing the drooping spirits of less sanguine 
 men, now repressing the enthusiasm of rash hearts, which 
 threatened to bring on a crisis before the time was ripe, 
 and all the while thundering against tyranny through the 
 columns of the Boston Gazette. As he was ten years ago 
 he is to-day, the master-spirit of the time — as cool, as 
 watchful, as steadfast, now that the hour of his triumph is 
 at hand, as when, in darker days, he took up the burden 
 
 * Historical and Political Reflections on the Rise and Progress of 
 the American Rebellion, by Joseph Galloway, London, 1780. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 231 
 
 James Otis could no longer bear. Beside him sits his 
 younger kinsman, John Adams, a man after liis own heart 
 — bold, fertile, resolute, an eloquent speaker, and a leader 
 of men. But whose is yonder tall and manly form ? It 
 is that of a man of forty years of age, in the prime of 
 vigorous manhood. He has not spoken, for he is no 
 orator, but there is a look of command in his broad face 
 and firm-set mouth, that marks him among men, and seems 
 to justify the deference with which his colleagues turn to 
 speak with him. He has taken a back seat, as becomes 
 one of his great modesty — for he is great even in that — 
 but he is still the foremost man in all this company. This 
 is he who has just made in the Virginia Convention that 
 speech which Lynch of Carolina says is the most eloquent 
 that ever was made : " I will raise a thousand men, subsist 
 them at ray own expense, and march with them, at their 
 head, for the relief of Boston." These were his words — 
 and his name is Washington. Such was the Continental 
 Congress assembled in Philadelphia. 
 
 Its members were met by a serious difficulty at the very 
 outset. The question at once arose. How should their votes 
 be cast — by colonies, by interest, or by the poll? Some 
 were for a vote by colonies; but the larger ones at once 
 raised the important objection that it would be unjust to 
 allow to a little colony the same weight as a large one. 
 " A small colony," was the reply of Major Sullivan, of 
 New Hampshire, " has its all at stake, as well as a large 
 one." Virginia responded that the delegates from the Old 
 Dominion, will never consent to waive her full representa- 
 tion ; and one of them went so far as to intimate that if 
 she were denied an influence in proportion to her size and 
 numbers, she would never again be represented in such an 
 assembly. On the other hand, it %vas confessed to be im- 
 
232 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 230ssible to determine the relative weight which should be 
 assigned to each colony. There were no tables of popula- 
 tion, of products, or of trade, nor had there been a common 
 system in the choice of delegates. Each province had sent 
 as many as it liked — Massachusetts four. South Carolina 
 five, Virginia seven, Pennsylvania eight. In one case they 
 had been chosen by a convention of the people, in another 
 by a general election, in most by the Assembly of the 
 province. There was no rule by which the members could 
 be guided. Nor was this the only point of diiference 
 among the delegates. On no one thing did they seem at 
 first sight to agree. Some were for resting their rights on 
 an historical basis — others upon the law of nature. These 
 acknowledged the power of Great Britain to regulate trade 
 — those denied her right to legislate for America at all. 
 One would have omitted the Quebec Bill from the list of 
 grievances — another held it to be of them all the very 
 worst. Some were for paying an indemnity for the de- 
 struction of the tea — others cried out that this were to 
 yield the point at once. One was defiant, a second con- 
 ciliatory ; Gadsden desired independence ; Washington 
 believed that it was wished for by no thinking man. 
 
 It was with a full sense of the diversity of these views, 
 of the importance of a speedy decision, and of the danger 
 of dissension, that the Congress reassembled i\\Q next 
 morning. 
 
 When the doors had been closed, and the preliminaries 
 gone through with, it is related that an oppressive silence 
 prevailed for a long time before any man spoke. No one 
 seemed willing to take the lead. It was a season of great 
 doubt and greater danger. Now, for the first time perhaps, 
 when the excitement of the assembling had passed away, 
 and reflection had come to calm men's minds, the members 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 233 
 
 realized completely the importance of tlieir acts. Their 
 countrymen watched and waited everywhere. In the most 
 distant hamlet beyond the mountains, in the lonely cabin 
 by the sea, eyes were turned to this place with anxious 
 longing, and yonder, in the North, the brave town lay 
 patient in her chains, resting her hopes for deliverance 
 upon them. And not Boston only, nor Massachusetts, de- 
 pended upon them. The fate of humauity for generations 
 was to be affected by their acts. Perhaps in the stillness 
 of this morning hour there came to some of them a vision 
 of the time to come. Perhaps to him, on whose great 
 heart was destined so long to lie the weight of all America, 
 it was j)ermitted to look beyond the present hour, like that 
 great leader of an earlier race when he stood silent, upon 
 a peak in Moab, and overlooked the Promised Land. 
 Like him, he was to be the chosen of his people. Like 
 him, soldier, lawgiver, statesman. Like him, he was des- 
 tined to lead his bretlu-en through the wilderness; and, 
 happier than he, was to behold the fulfilment of his labor. 
 Perhaps, as he sat here in the solemn stillness that fell 
 upon this company, he may have seen, in imagination, the 
 wonders of the century that is complete to-day. If he had 
 spoken, might he not have said : I see a winter of trouble 
 and distress, and then the smoke of cannon in the North. 
 I see long years of suffering to be borne, our cities sacked, 
 our fields laid waste, our hearths made desolate ; men 
 trudging heavily through blood-stained snow, and wailing 
 women refusing to be comforted. I see a time of danger 
 and defeat, and then a day of victory. I see this peoj^le, 
 virtuous and free, founding a government on the rights of 
 man. I see that government grown strong, that people 
 prosperous, pushing its way across a continent. I see these 
 villages become wealthy cities; these colonies great States; 
 
 16 
 
234 'I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 the Union we are about to found, a power among the 
 nations; and I know that future generations shall rise up 
 and call us blessed. 
 
 Such might have been his thoughts as these founders of 
 an empire sat for a while silent, face to face. It was the 
 stillness of the last hour of night before the morning 
 breaks; it was the quiet which precedes the storm. 
 
 Suddenly, in some part of this hall a man rose up. His 
 form was tall and angular, and his short wig and coat of 
 black gave him the appearance of a clergyman. His com- 
 plexion was swarthy, his nose long and straight, his mouth 
 large, but with a firm expression on the thin lips, and his 
 forehead exceptionally high. The most remarkable feature 
 of his face was a pair of deep-set eyes, of piercing brilliancy, 
 changing so constantly with the emotions which they ex- 
 pressed that none could tell the color of them. He began 
 to speak in a hesitating manner, faltering through the 
 opening sentences, as if fully convinced of the inability, 
 which he expressed, to do justice to his theme. But pres- 
 ently, as he reviewed the wrongs of the colonies through 
 the past ten years, his cheek glowed and his eye flashed fire 
 and his voice rang out rich and full, like a trumpet, thro"ugh 
 this hall. He seemed not to speak like mortal man, thought 
 one who heard him ten years before in the Virginia House 
 of Burgesses ; and a recent essayist in a leading English 
 Review has spoken of him as one of the greatest orators 
 that ever lived.* There was no report made of his speech 
 that day, but from the notes which John Adams kept of 
 the debate, we may learn what line of argument he took. 
 He spoke of the attacks made upon America by the king 
 and ministry of Great Britain, counselled a union in the 
 
 * Essays, by A. Ilayward, Esq., Q. C, 3d series, p. 50. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 235 
 
 general defence, and predicted tliat future generations would 
 quote the proceedings of this Congress with applause. A 
 step in advance of his time, as he had ever been, he went 
 far beyond the spirit of the other delegates, who, with the 
 exception of the Adamses and Gadsden, did not counsel or 
 desire independence. " An entire new government must 
 be founded," was his cry ; '' this is the first in a never- 
 ending succession of Congresses," his prophecy. And 
 gathering up, as it was the gift of his genius to do, the 
 thought that was foremost in every mind about him, he 
 spoke it in a single phrase : " British oppression has effaced 
 the boundaries of the several colonies ; I am not a Vir- 
 ginian, but an American." 
 
 ]My countrymen, we cannot exaggerate the debt we owe 
 this man. The strength of his intellect, the fervor of his 
 eloquence, the earnestness of his patriotism, and the courage 
 of his heart placed him in the front rank of those early 
 patriots, and he stands among them the model of a more 
 than Roman virtue. His eloquence was one of the chief 
 forces of the American Revolution — as necessary to that 
 great cause as the intelligence of Franklin, the will of 
 Samuel Adams, the pen of Thomas Jefferson, or the sword 
 of Washington. In such times of a nation's trial there is 
 always one voice which speaks for all. It echoes the spirit 
 of the age — proud or defiant, glad or mournful, now raised 
 in triumph, now lifted up in lamentation. Greece stood on 
 the Bema with Demosthenes ; indignant Rome thundered 
 against Catiline with the tongue of Cicero. The jjroud 
 eloquence of Chatham rang out the triumphs of the Eng- 
 lish name, and France stood still to hear her Mirabeau. 
 Ireland herself pleaded for liberty when Henry Grattan 
 spoke, and the voice of Patrick Henry was the voice of 
 America, struggling to be free ! 
 
236 ^^^ CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 Rest in peace, pure and patriotic heart ! Thy work is 
 finished and thy fame secure. Dead for three-quarters of 
 a century, thou art still speaking to the sons of men. 
 Through all descending time thy countrymen shall repeat 
 thy glowing words, and, as the pages of their greatest bard 
 kept strong the virtue of the Grecian youth, so from the 
 grave shalt thou, who " spoke as Homer wrote,"* inspire 
 in the hearts of men to be, that love of liberty which filled 
 thine own ! 
 
 Great as were at first the differences of interest and 
 opinion among the members of the Congress of 1774, there 
 were none which their patriotic spirits could not reconcile. 
 It was the salvation of the Americans that they had chosen 
 for their counsellors men who believed, Avith Thomas Jef- 
 ferson, that " the whole art of government consists in the 
 art of being honest,"t and who were enthusiastic lovers of 
 their country. No matter how strong had been their indi- 
 vidual opinions, or how dear the separate interests involved, 
 there seemed to these men no sacrifice too great to make 
 for the common cause. As the debates progressed, differ- 
 ent views were reconciled and pet theories sacrificed to the 
 general judgment. Day after day they became more united 
 and confidence increased. " This," wrote John Adams on 
 the 17th of September, "was one of the happiest days of 
 my life. In Congress we had noble sentiments and manly 
 eloquence. This day convinced me that America will sup- 
 port the Massachusetts or perish with her."| After a full 
 and free discussion, in which the subject was considered in 
 all its aspects, it was decided that each colony was entitled 
 
 * Memoir of Thomas Jefferson, vol. i. p. 3. 
 
 t Ibid., p. 115. 
 
 X Journal of John Adams, vol. ii. p. 380. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 237 
 
 to a single vote. By this means the integrity of the prov- 
 inces was preserved, and out of it grew the theory, so 
 familiar to us, of the sovereignty of the State. It was 
 next agreed u})on to rest the rights of the colonies on an 
 historical basis. By this wise determination the appearance 
 of a revolution was avoided, while the fact remained the 
 same. Nor was there a sudden break in the long chain of 
 the nation's history ; the change was gradual, not abrupt. 
 The common law of England, under tlie benign influence 
 of which tlie young colonies had grown up, remained un- 
 changed, and when, in less than two years, the Declaration 
 of Independence created a new government, the common- 
 wealth quietly took tlie place of king. The revolution 
 was then com])]ete ; the struggle which followed was merely 
 to secure it ; and the American grew strong with the belief 
 that it was his part to defend, not to attack — to preserve, 
 not to destroy ; and that he was fighting over again on his 
 own soil the battle for civil liberty which his forefathers 
 had won in England more than a century before. We 
 cannot too highly prize the wisdom which thus shaped the 
 strugo-le. 
 
 Having decided these points, the Congress agreed upon 
 a declaration of rights. First, then, they named as natural 
 rights the enjoyment of life, liberty, and fortune. They 
 next claimed, as British subjects, to be bound by no law to 
 which they had not consented by their chosen representa- 
 tives (excepting such as might be mutually agreed upon 
 as necessary for the regulation of trade). They denied to 
 Parliament all power of taxation, and vested the right of 
 legislation in their own Assemblies. The common law of 
 England they declared to be their birthright, including the 
 rights of a trial by a jury of the vicinage, of public meet- 
 ings, and petition. They protested against the maintenance 
 
238 ^^^ CONGEESS OF 1774. 
 
 in the colonies of standing armies Avithout their full con- 
 sent, and against all legislation by councils depending on 
 the Crown. Having thus proclaimed their rights, they 
 calmly enumerated the various acts which had been passed 
 in derogation of them. These were eleven in number, 
 passed in as many years — the Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, 
 the Tea Act, those which provided for the quartering of 
 the troops, for the supersedure of the New York Legisla- 
 ture, for the trial in Great Britain of offences committed in 
 America, for the regulation of the government of Massa- 
 chusetts, for the shutting of the port of Boston, and the last 
 straw, known as the Quebec Bill. 
 
 Their next care was to suggest the remedy. On the 
 18th of October they adopted the articles of American 
 Association, the signing of which (on the 20th) should be 
 regarded as the commencement of the American Union. 
 By its provisions, to which they individually and as a body 
 solemnly agreed, they pledged the colonies to an entire 
 commercial non-intercourse Avitli Great Britain, Ireland, 
 the West Indies, and such North American provinces as did 
 not join the Association, until the acts of which America 
 complained were all repealed. In strong language they 
 denounced the slave-trade, and agreed to hold non-inter- 
 course with all who engaged therein. They urged upon 
 their fellow-countrymen the duties of economy, frugality, 
 and the development of their own resources ; directed the 
 appointment of committees in every town and village to 
 detect and punish all violators of the Association, and in- 
 form each other from time to time of the condition of affairs; 
 and bound themselves, finally, to carry out the provisions 
 of the Association by the sacred ties of " virtue, honor, and 
 love of country." 
 
 Having thus declared their rights, and their fixed deter- 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 239 
 
 mination to defend them, they sought to conciliate their 
 English brethren. In one of the most remarkable state 
 papers ever written, they called upon the people of Great 
 Britain, in a firm but affectionate tone, to consider the cause 
 for which America was contending as one in which the 
 inhabitants of the whole empire were concerned, adroitly 
 reminding them that the power which threatened the liber- 
 ties of its American, might more easily destroy those of its 
 Englisli, subjects. They rehearsed the history of their 
 wrongs, and " demanded nothing but to be restored to the 
 condition in which they were in 1763." Appealing at last 
 to the justice of the British nation for a Parliament which 
 should overthrow the "power of a wicked and corrupt 
 ministry," they used these bold and noble words : " Permit 
 us to be as free as yourselves, and we shall ever esteem a 
 union with you to be our greatest glory and our greatest 
 happiness ; we shall ever be ready to contribute all in our 
 power to the welfare of the empire ; we shall consider your 
 enemies as our enemies, your interests as our own. But if 
 you are determined that your ministers shall sport wantonly 
 with the rights of mankind, — if neither the voice of justice, 
 the dictates of the law, tlie principles of the constitution, 
 nor the suggestions of humanity can restrain your hands 
 from shedding blood in such an impious cause — we must 
 then tell you that we will never submit to be hewers of 
 wood or drawers of water for any ministry or nation in the 
 world." 
 
 In an address to the people of Quebec they described the 
 despotic tendency of the late change in their government 
 effected by the Quebec Bill, which threatened to deprive 
 them of the blessings to which they were entitled on be- 
 coming English subjects, naming particularly the rights of 
 representation, of trial by jury, of liberty of person and 
 
240 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 habeas corpus, of the tenure of land by easy rents instead 
 of oppressive services, and especially that right so essential 
 " to the advancement of truth, science, art, and morality," 
 " to the diffusion of liberal sentiments" and " the promotion 
 of union" — " the freedom of the press." " These are the 
 rights," said they, " without which a people cannot be free 
 and happy," and " which we are, with one mind, resolved 
 never to resign but with our lives." In conclusion, they 
 urged the Canadians to unite with their fellow-colonists 
 below the St. Lawrence in the measures recommended for 
 the common good. They also prepared letters to the 
 people of St. John's, Nova Scotia, Georgia, and East and 
 West Florida, who were not represented in this Congress, 
 asking for their co-operation and suj^jjort. 
 
 Nor was anything omitted by these men which could 
 soften the hearts of their oppressors. Declining to petition 
 Parliament, they had addressed themselves to the people, 
 recognizing in them for the first time the sovereign power. 
 They now decided to petition the king. In words both 
 humble and respectful, they renewed their allegiance to his 
 crown, detailed the injuries inflicted on them by his minis- 
 ters, and besought his interference in their behalf. " We 
 ask," they said, " but for peace, liberty, and safety. We 
 wish not a diminution of the prerogative, nor do we solicit 
 the grant of any new right in our favor. Your royal 
 authority over us and our connection with Great Britain, 
 we shall always carefully and zealously endeavor to sup- 
 port and maintain." Solemnly professing that their '' coun- 
 sels were influenced by no other motive than a dread of im- 
 pending destruction," they earnestly besought their " Most 
 Gracious Sovereign" " in the name of his faithful people 
 in America," " for the honor of Almighty God," " for 
 his own glory," " the interest of his family," and the good 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 241 
 
 and welfare of his kingdom, to suffer not tlie most sacred 
 " ties to be further violated" in the vain ho])e " of effects" 
 which, even if secured, could " never compensate for the 
 calamities through which they must be gained." 
 
 There remained now for the Cono-ress but one thino: to 
 do — to render to its countrymen an account of its steward- 
 ship. In a long letter to their constituents, the delegates 
 gave a summary of their proceedings, of the difficulties they 
 had encountered, the opinions they had formed, the policy 
 they had agreed to recommend, and, with a mournful 
 prophecy of the trials that were at hand, urged their fellow- 
 countrymen " to be in all respects prepared for every con- 
 tingency." Such were, in brief, the memorable state papers 
 issued by the First Continental Congress. And, terrible 
 as were the dangers which seemed to threaten them from 
 without, its members were to be subjected to a trial from 
 within. On the 28tli of September, Joseph Galloway of 
 Pennsylvania, submitted to the Congress his famous plan.* 
 A man of talent and address, at one time high in the opin- 
 ion and confidence of Franklin, he stood at the head of the 
 Pennsylvania delegation. The Speaker of the House of 
 Assembly, he had wielded great influence in the policy of 
 the province. Cold, cautious, and at heart a thorough 
 royalist, he determined, if possible, to nip the patriotic 
 movement in the bud. Seconded by Duane of New York, 
 he moved that the Congress should recommend the estab- 
 lishment of a British and American government, to consist 
 of a President-General, appointed by the king, and a Grand 
 Council, to be chosen by the several Legislatures ; that the 
 Council should have co-ordinate powers with the British 
 
 * Vide Tucker's History, vol. i. p. Ill ; Sabine's American Loy- 
 alists, vol. i. p. 309 ; John Adams's Works, vol. ii. p. 389. 
 
242 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 House of Commons, either body to originate a law, but the 
 consent of both to be necessary to its passage ; the members 
 of the Council to be chosen for three years, the President- 
 General to hold office at the pleasure of the king. Here, 
 then, was an ingenious trap in the very path of the infant 
 nation. Some men, and good ones, too, fell into it. The 
 project was earnestly supported by Duane. The younger 
 Rutledge thought it "almost perfect," and it met with the 
 warm approbation of the conservative Jay. But wiser men 
 prevailed. The Virginian and Massachusetts members op- 
 posed it earnestly. Samuel Adams saw in it the doom of 
 all hope for liberty, and Henry condemned in every aspect 
 the proposal to substitute for " a corrupt House of Com- 
 mons" a "corruptible" legislature, and intrust the power 
 of taxation to a body not elected directly by the people. 
 His views were those of the majority, and the dangerous 
 proposition met with a prompt defeat. The Suffolk County 
 resolutions, adopted on the 9th of September, at Milton, 
 Massachusetts, had reached Philadelphia and the Congress ;.;. 
 
 on the 17th, and awakened in every breast the warmest 
 admiration and sympathy. Resolutions were unanimously 
 adopted, expressing these feelings in earnest language, rec- 
 ommending to their brethren of Suffolk County " a perse- 
 verance in the same firm and temperate conduct," and W^ 
 urging upon the people of the other colonies the duty of 
 contributing freely to the necessities of the Bostonians. 
 There now came a still more touching appeal from ]\Iassa- 
 chusetts. " The governor," it said, " was suifering the sol- 
 diery to treat both town and country as declared enemies ;" 
 the course- of trade was stopped; the administration of law 
 obstructed ; a state of anarchy prevailed. Filled with the 
 spirit which, in olden times, had led the Athenians to leave 
 their city to the foe and make their ships their country, this 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 243 
 
 gallant people promised to obey should the Congress advise 
 them to "quit their town ;" but if it is judged, they added, 
 that " by maintaining their ground they can better serve 
 the public cause, they will not shrink from hardship and 
 danger,"* Such an appeal as this could not have waited 
 long for a worthy answer from the men of the First Amer- 
 ican Congress. The letter was received upon October 6th. 
 Two days later the official journal contains these words : 
 " Upon motion it was resolved that this Congress approve 
 the opposition of the inhabitants of the Massachusetts Bay 
 to the execution of the late acts of Parliament ; and if the 
 same shall be attempted to be carried into execution, all 
 America ought to support them in their opposition." 
 "This," says the historian, "is the measure which hardened 
 George the Third to listen to no terms."t In vain con- 
 ciliation and kind words ; in vain all assurances of affection 
 and of loyalty. The men of Massachusetts are traitors to 
 their king, and the Congress of all the colonies upholds 
 them in rebellion. " Henceforth," says Bancroft, " con- 
 ciliation became impossible." 
 
 Having thus asserted their rights to the enjoyment of 
 life, liberty, and fortune ; their resistance to taxation with- 
 out representation ; their purpose to defend their ancient 
 charters from assault ; having denounced the slave-trade in 
 
 * The spirit of this people is reflected in a letter from Boston, 
 printed in the Pennsylvania PacK-et for October 10, 1774, describing 
 a conversation which the writer had with a fisherman. "I said: 
 'Don't you think it time to submit, pay for the tea, and get the 
 harbor opened?' 'Submit? No. It can never be time to become 
 slaves. I have yet some pork and meal, and when they are gone I 
 will eat clams ; and after we have dug up all the clam-banks, if the 
 Congress will not let us fight, I will retreat to the woods; I am 
 always sure of acorns !' " 
 
 f Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vii. p. 145. 
 
244 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 language which startled the world, and recognized, for the 
 first time in history, the People as the source of Authority; 
 having laid the firm foundations of a Union based upon 
 Freedom and Equality — the First Congress passed out of 
 existence on the 26tli of October, after a session of two 
 and fifty days. Half a hundred men, born in a new 
 country, bred amid trials and privations, chosen from every 
 rank of life, untried in diplomacy, unskilled in letters, un- 
 trained in statecraft, called suddenly together in a troubled 
 time to advise a hitherto divided people, they had shown 
 a tact, a judgment, a self-command, and a sincere love 
 of country hardly to be found in the proudest annals of 
 antiquity. And their countrymen were worthy of them. 
 If the manner in which they had fulfilled their duties had 
 been extraordinary, the spirit with which their counsels 
 were received was still more remarkable. In every part 
 of the country the recommendations of the Congress were 
 obeyed as binding law. No despotic power in any period 
 of history exercised over the minds and hearts of men a 
 more complete control. The Articles of Association were 
 signed by tens of thousands, the spirit of Union grew 
 strong in every breast, and the Americans steadily prepared 
 to meet the worst. The stirring influence of this example 
 penetrated to the most distant lands. " The Congress," 
 wrote Dr. Franklin from London in the following winter, 
 "is in high favor here among the friends of liberty."* 
 " For a long time," cried the eloquent Cliarles Botta, " no 
 spectacle has been oifered to the attention of mankind of 
 so powerful an interest as this of the present American 
 Congress."t " It is impossible," says the Scotch writer, 
 
 * Letter to Charles Thomson, 5th February, 1775 ; Watson's An- 
 nals of Philadelphia, vol. i. p. 421, 
 t Otis's Botta, vol. i. p. 128. 
 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 245 
 
 Grahame, " to read of its transactions without the highest 
 admiration."* "Tliere never was a body of delegates 
 more faithful to the interests of their constituents," was 
 the opinion of David Ramsay, the historian.f " From the 
 moment of their first debates," De Tocqueville says, "Eu- 
 rope was moved."! The judgment of John Adams de- 
 clared them to be, " in point of abilities, virtues, and 
 fortunes, the greatest men upon the continent. "§ Charles 
 Thomson, in the evening of his well-spent life, pronounced 
 them " the purest and ablest patriots he had ever known ;"|| 
 and, in the very face of king and Parliament, the illustrious 
 Chatham spoke of them the well-known words : " I must 
 avow and declare that in all my reading of history — and 
 it has been my favorite study ; I have read Thucydides 
 and admired the master states of the world — that for 
 solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of con- 
 clusion, under such a complication of circumstances, no 
 nation or body of men can stand in preference to the Gen- 
 eral Congress assembled in Philadelphia."T[ Long years 
 have passed, and there have been many changes in the 
 governments of men. The century which has elapsed has 
 been crowded with great events, but the calm judgment of 
 posterity has confirmed that opinion, and mankind has not 
 
 * History of tbe United States, by James Grahame, LL.D., vol. 
 ii. p. 496. 
 
 t History of the American Revolution, by David Ramsay, M.D., 
 vol. i. p. 174. 
 
 J La Democratie en Am6rique, by Alexis de Tocqueville, vol. iii. 
 p. 182. 
 
 I John Adams's Letters to his Wife, vol. i. p. 21. 
 
 II Field-Book of the Revolution, by B. J. Lossing, vol. ii. p. 60, 
 note. 
 
 T[ Speech in Favor of the Removal of Troops from Boston, Jan- 
 uary 20, 1775. 
 
246 ^^^ CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 ceased to admire the spectacle which was once enacted here. 
 " But that you may be more earnest in the defence of your 
 country," cried the great Roman orator, speaking in a vision 
 with the tongue of Scipio, " know from me that a certain 
 place in heaven is assigned to all who have preserved, or 
 assisted, or improved their country, where they are to enjoy 
 an endless duration of happiness. For there is nothing 
 which takes place on earth more acceptable to the Supreme 
 Deity, Avho governs all this world, than those councils and 
 assemblies of men, bound together by. law, which are termed 
 states; the founders and preservers of these come from 
 heaven, and thither do they return."* The founders and 
 preservers of this Union have vanished from the earth, 
 those true lovers of their country have long since been 
 consigned into her keeping, but their memory clings 
 around this place, and hath hallowed it for evermore. 
 Here shall men come as to a sanctuary. Here shall they 
 gather with each returning anniversary, and as the story 
 of these lives falls from the lips of him who shall then 
 stand Avhere I stand to-day, their souls shall be stirred 
 within them and their hearts be lifted up, and none shall 
 despair of the Republic while she can find among her 
 children the courage, the wisdom, the eloquence, the self- 
 sacrifice, the lofty patriotism, and the spotless honor of 
 those who assembled in this hall an hundred years ago. 
 
 The conditions of life are always changing, and the 
 experience of the fathers is rarely the experience of the 
 sons. The temptations which are trying us are not the 
 temptations which beset their footsteps, nor the dangers 
 which threaten our pathway the dangers which surrounded 
 them. These men were few in number, we are many. 
 
 * Cicero, De Ke Publica, lib. vi. ; Somnium Scipionis, ^ iii. 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 247 
 
 They were poor, but we are rich. They were weak, but 
 we are strong. What is it, countrymen, that we need to- 
 day ? Wealth ? Behold it in your hands. Power ? God 
 hath given it you. Liberty ? It is your birthright. Peace? 
 It dwells among you. You have a government founded 
 in the hearts of men, built by the people for the common 
 good. You have a land flowing with milk and honey; 
 your homes are happy, your workshops busy, your barns 
 are full. The school, the railway, the telegraph, the print- 
 ing-press have welded you together into one. Descend 
 those mines that honeycomb the hills ! Behold that com- 
 merce whitening every sea ! Stand by your gates and see 
 that multitude pour through them from the corners of the 
 earth, grafting the qualities of older stocks upon one stem, 
 mingling the blood of many races in a common stream, 
 and swelling the rich volume of our English speech with 
 varied music from an hundred tongues. You have a long 
 and glorious history, a past glittering with heroic deeds, an 
 ancestry full of lofty and imperishable examples. You 
 have passed through danger, endured privation, been 
 acquainted with sorrow, been tried by suffering. You 
 have journeyed in safety through the wilderness and 
 crossed in triumph the Red Sea of civil strife, and the 
 foot of Him who led you hath not faltered nor the light 
 of His countenance been turned away ! It is a question 
 for us now, not of the founding of a new government, but 
 of the preservation of one already old ; not of the forma- 
 tion of an independent power, but of the purification of a 
 nation's life ; not of the conquest of a foreign foe, but of 
 the subjection of ourselves. The capacity of man to rule 
 himself is to be proven in the days to come — not by the 
 greatness of his wealth, not by his valor in the field, not 
 by the extent of his dominion, not by the splendor of his 
 
248 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 genius. The dangers of to-day come from within. The 
 worship of self, the love of power, the lust of gold, the 
 weakening of faith, the decay of public virtue, the lack of 
 private worth — these are the perils which threaten our 
 future; these are the enemies we have to fear; these are 
 the traitors which infest the camp ; and the danger was far 
 less when Catiline knocked with his army at the gates of 
 Rome than when he sat smiling in the Senate House. We 
 see them daily face to face — in the walk of virtue, in the 
 road to wealth, in the path to honor, on the Avay to happi- 
 ness. There is no peace between them and our safety. 
 Nor can we avoid them and turn back. It is not enough 
 to rest upon the past. No man or nation can stand still. 
 We must mount upward or go down. We must grow worse 
 or better. It is the Eternal Law — we cannot change it. 
 Nor are we only concerned in what we do. This govern- 
 ment, which our ancestors have built, has been " a refuge 
 for the oppressed of every race and clime," where they 
 have gathered for a century. The fugitive of earlier times 
 knew no such shelter among the homes of men. Cold, 
 naked, bleeding, there was no safety for him save at the 
 altars of imagined gods. I have seen one of the most 
 famous of those ancient sanctuaries. On a bright day in 
 spring-time I looked out over acres of ruin. Beside me 
 the blue sea plashed upon a beach strewn with broken 
 marble. That sacred floor, polished with the penitential 
 knees of centuries, was half hidden with heaps of rubbish 
 and giant weeds. The fox had his den among the stones, 
 and the fowl of the air her nest upon the capitals. No 
 sound disturbed them in their solitude, save sometimes the 
 tread of an adventurous stranger, or the stealthy footfall 
 of the wild beasts and wilder men that crept down out of 
 the surrounding hills under cover of the night. The god 
 
THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 249 
 
 had vanished, his seat was desolate, the oracle was dumb. 
 Far different was the temple which our fathers builded, 
 and " builded better than they knew." The blood of mar- 
 tyrs was spilled on its foundations, and a suffering people 
 raised its walls with prayer. Temple and fortress, it still 
 stands secure, and the smile of Providence gilds plinth, 
 architrave, and column. Greed is alone the Tarpeia that 
 can betray it, and vice the only Samson that can pull it 
 down. It is the Home of Liberty, as boundless as a con- 
 tinent, "as broad and general as the casing air;" a "temple 
 not made with hands ;" a sanctuary that shall not fall, but 
 stand on forever, founded in eternal truth ! 
 
 My countrymen : the moments are quickly passing, and 
 we stiind like some traveller upon a lofty crag that separates 
 two boundless seas. 
 
 The century that is closing is complete. " The past," 
 said your great statesman, " is secure." It is finished, and 
 beyond our reach. The hand of detraction cannot dim its 
 glories nor the tears of repentance wipe away its stains. 
 Its good and evil, its joy and sorrow, its truth and false- 
 hood, its honor and its shame, we cannot touch. Sigh for 
 thera, blush for them, w^eep for them, if we will ; we can- 
 not change them now. We might have done so once, but 
 we cannot now. The old century is dying, and they are 
 to be buried with him ; his history is finished, and they 
 will stand upon his roll forever. 
 
 The century that is opening is all our own. The years 
 that lie before us are a virgin page. We can inscribe it 
 as we will. The future of our country rests upon us — the 
 happiness of posterity depends on us. The fate of humanity 
 may be in our hands. That pleading voice, choked with 
 the sobs of ages, which has so often spoken unto ears of 
 stone, is lifted up to us. It asks us to be brave, benevolent, 
 
 17 
 

 250 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 
 
 consistent, true to the teachings of our history — proving 
 " divine descent by worth divine." It asks us to be virtu- 
 ous, building uj) public virtue upon private worth ; seeking 
 that righteousness which exalteth nations. It asks us to 
 be patriotic — loving our country before all other things; 
 her happiness our happiness, her honor ours, her fame our 
 own. It asks us in the name of Justice, in the name of 
 Charity, in the name of Freedom, in the name of God ! 
 
 My countrymen : this anniversary has gone by forever, 
 and my task is done. While I have spoken the hour has 
 passed from us ; the hand lias moved upon the dial, and 
 the Old Century is dead. The American Union hath en- 
 dured an hundred years ! Here, on this threshold of the 
 future, the voice of humanity shall not plead to us in vain. 
 There shall be darkness in the days to come ; Danger for 
 our Courage ; Temptation for our Virtue ; Doubt for our 
 Faith ; Suffering for our Fortitude. A thousand shall fall 
 before us and tens of thousands at our right hand. The 
 years shall pass beneath our feet, and century follow cen- 
 tury in quick succession. The generations of men shall 
 come and go ; the greatness of Yesterday shall be forgotten 
 To-day, and the glories of this Noon shall vanish before 
 To-morrow's sun ; but America shall not j)erish, but endure, 
 while the spirit of our fathers animates their sons ! 
 
''THE SETTLEMENT OF BUELINGT N." 
 
 AN ORATION 
 
 Delivered in that City December 6, 1S77, 
 
 IN COMMEMORATION OF 
 
 THE TWO HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY 
 
 OF ITS SETTLEMENT 
 
 BY THE PASSENGERS OF THE GOOD SHIP KENT, WHO 
 
 LANDED AT RACCOON CREEK, AUGUST 16, 0. S., AND LAID OUT 
 
 THE TOWN ON CHYGOE'S ISLAND " TOWARDS 
 
 YE LATTER PART OF YE 8th 
 
 MONTH," 1677. 
 
ORATION. 
 
 Theee are few events in American history more interest- 
 ing than that which we commemorate to-day. There are 
 few stories more honorable than that which I shall have to 
 tell. The sun which has broken through the clouds of this 
 morning with such unexpected and auspicious splendor, has 
 rarely looked down upon an anniversary more worthy to 
 be observed than this which marks the peaceful planting 
 of a people — the founding of a free and happy common- 
 wealth. The life of old Burlington has been a modest one. 
 She sings no epic-song of hard-fought fields and gallant 
 deeds of arms ; she tells no tales of conquest, of well-won 
 triumphs, of bloody victories. Seated in smiling meadows 
 and guarded by the encircling pines, her days have been 
 full of quietness and all her paths of peace. The hand of 
 Time has touched her forehead lightly. The centuries 
 have flown by so softly that she has hardly heard the rustle 
 of their wings. The stream of years has flowed before her 
 feet as smoothly as the broad bosom of her own great river 
 by whose banks she dwells. But her history is none the 
 less worthy to be remembered, for it is full of those things 
 which good men rejoice to find in the character of their 
 ancestors — of a courage meek but dauntless, a self-sacrifice 
 lowly but heroic, a wisdom humble and yet lofty, a love of 
 humanity that nothing could quench, a devotion to liberty 
 that was never shaken, an unfaltering and childlike faith 
 
 253 
 
254 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 in God. And it is right that it be remembered by those 
 who enjoy the blessings which such qualities have won. 
 " I wish/' wrote one who had witnessed the beginning, de- 
 scribing in her old age the dangers and trials of her youth, 
 " I wish they that come after may consider these things."* 
 Seven-score years have gone since that w^as written. The 
 heart that held that hope has long been still. The hand 
 that wrote those words has been motionless for more than 
 a century, and the kindred to whom they were addressed 
 have vanished from the earth. But here to-day in that 
 ancient town, strangely unaltered by the changes of two 
 centuries — here amid scenes with which those venerable 
 eyes were so familiar — we who have "come after" have 
 assembled to fulfil that pious wish, to "consider those 
 things" with reverence and gratitude, and take care that 
 they be held hereafter in eternal remembrance and everlast- 
 ing honor. 
 
 The causes which led to the event which it is my duty to 
 describe to-day are to be found in one of the most interest- 
 ing periods of English history. The attempt of Charles I. 
 to secure for the Crown a power which not even the pride 
 of Henry VIII. had claimed, had ended in disastrous fail- 
 ure. Conquered by his people, the unfortunate monarch 
 had paid for his folly with his life — a victim less of polit- 
 ical hatred than of that personal distrust which his frequent 
 Avant of faith had planted in the breast of friends and 
 foes — and England was nominally at peace. In reality, 
 however, she continued in commotion. The excesses into 
 which their triumph over their king and his party not un- 
 
 * Account of Mary Murfin Smith in Baxter and Howe's New 
 Jersey Historical Collection, p. 90. Mrs. Smith came over with 
 her parents while yet a child. She was drowned in 1739. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 255 
 
 naturally led the victors were soon over, and already, in 
 1650, the reaction had set in which Avas destined to lead the 
 countr}' backward to the Restoration. But the passions 
 into which the civil wars had thrown all classes would not 
 easily cool. The struggle of the Cavalier and the Round- 
 head was not like that in which two great sections of a vast 
 country — each in itself a unit — are pitted against each other. 
 It aroused feelings far more personal and bitter. Families 
 were divided among themselves, and every man was in arms 
 against his neighbor. No single county had borne the 
 brunt of a war which had involved all alike, ravaged the 
 whole country, and brought desolation to half the hearths 
 in England ; and, though peace might be proclaimed, some 
 of the spirits which it had called up would not down even at 
 the bidding of such a man as Cromwell. Feared at home 
 and abroad, and armed with an authority which belonged 
 less to his office than to himself, the victor of Worcester 
 could govern his turbulent countrymen, but pacify and unite 
 them he could not. It might have been possible had their 
 differences been simply political, but a deeper feeling entered 
 into all the actions of that time. It was the age of politico- 
 religious fanaticism. The Cavalier and the Roundhead, 
 the Royalist and the Republican, had they been notliing 
 more, might have been made to sit down in peace together 
 under a liberal and strong government, which, though it 
 represented the peculiar ideas of neither, expressed in its 
 actions many of the views of both. But Baptist, Presby- 
 terian, and Independent, Protestant and Roman Catholic 
 no man could reconcile, and between the many sects which 
 the spirit of free inquiry had bred in the heat of those 
 fanatic days the most vigorous ruler England had ever seen 
 had hard work to keep the peace. It is not easy in these 
 colder, calmer times to understand the polemic spirit of that 
 
256 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 age. It had arisen suddenly and grown with amazing 
 speed, and the transition from the manners of the time 
 when the graceful Buckingham had set the fashion to those 
 of a day in which the psalm-singing soldier of Cromwell 
 stood guard before Whitehall, was as extraordinary as it 
 had been startling and abrupt. Religion now was the 
 mainspring of men's actions, the subject of their talk, the 
 basis of their politics, the object of their lives. It is strange 
 that religious liberty remained yet to be contended for. Too 
 near to the Reformation to have escaped its spirit, and not 
 far enough from Philip and Mary's day to have forgotten 
 the crimes committed in their name — of which indeed he 
 had had beneath his eyes a constant reminder in the scenes 
 of which Holland had been the theatre for more than sixty 
 years — the Englishman of 1650 was sincerely and aggres- 
 sively a Protestant, and it might naturally have been ex- 
 pected that religious freedom would in his mind have gone 
 hand in hand with the civil liberty for which he had recently 
 gained such splendid and substantial triumphs. But such 
 was not the case. Free from political tyranny from within, 
 he would not brook even the semblance of interference in 
 religious matters from without, but, in the fierce contro- 
 versies of Englishmen with each other, liberty of conscience 
 meant to the zealous theologian of that day — when all men 
 claimed to be theologians — only the right of all other men 
 to yield their own opinions and agree with him. It was 
 soon observed that the sincere bigotry of the Roman Cath- 
 olic and the proud intolerance of the English Churchman 
 had only given place to a fervent bat narrow piety, which, 
 like them, would brook no opposition, mistook differences 
 of opinion for hostility, and watched all other creeds with a 
 jealous and unchristian eye. Forgetful of the truth that 
 all cannot think alike, mixing essentials and non-essentials 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 257 
 
 ill blind confusion, and armed with the cant and loose 
 learning of the day, men went forth to controversy as the 
 knights errant of an earlier and more chivalric, but not more 
 zealous, age went forth to battle. Each sect became a po- 
 litical party, and every party a religious sect. Each in its 
 turn, according to its power, persecuted the others, and all 
 united to persecute the Quakers. 
 
 I have no time to-day to describe the rise of the Society 
 of Friends. Considered only as a political event and in its 
 bearing upon the struggle for civil and religious liberty, it 
 is a strange chapter in the history of progress, and it is one 
 of the peculiar glories of those whom the world calls 
 Quakers, that without justice to their achievements such a 
 history would be incomplete.* It was in the midst of the 
 stormiest years of the civil war that George Fox began his 
 ministry. An humble youth watching his flocks by night 
 in the fields of Nottingham, he had heard, as he believed, 
 the voice of God within him, and seen afar oiF the star 
 that was to become the beacon of his chosen people. That 
 light shining impartially on all ; that voice speaking to the 
 hearts of all alike ; God and the soul of man in close com- 
 munion — the Creator and the humblest of his creatures 
 face to face — here was at last the scheme of a spiritual 
 democracy striving to lead all men in a single pathway, 
 and unite the nations under the same promise of salvation. 
 A mystery even to himself, and believing that he was 
 divinely appointed. Fox went forth to preach to his coun- 
 trymen the new gospel founded on freedom of conscience, 
 purity of life, and the equality of man.f The times were 
 
 * Vide Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. chap. xvi. 
 f Vide Fox's Life, Barclay's Apology, Gough and Sewell, Besse, 
 and Penn's Witness. 
 
258 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 ripe for such a mission. The public mind was like tinder, 
 and the fire that came from the lips of the joung enthusiast 
 soon set England in a blaze. The people flocked to hear 
 him, and his enemies became alarmed. Here was not only 
 a new religious creed, but a dangerous political doctrine. 
 Here was an idea, that, once embodied in a sect, would 
 strike a blow at caste and privilege, and shake the very 
 foundations of society. But nothing availed to tie the 
 tongue of Fox or cool the fervor of his spirit. Threatened, 
 fined, and beaten, he turned neither to the right hand nor 
 to the left. Often imprisoned, he was released only to set 
 forth again undaunted. 
 
 His followers rapidly increased, and the sober yeomanry 
 of England began to abandon all and follow him. At 
 Cromwell's death the Quakers were already a numerous 
 people. At the Restoration they had grown to dangerous 
 proportions. Obnoxious naturally to all parties, there were 
 reasons wiiy they incurred especial hatred. Their refusal 
 to fight, to take an oath, to j)ay tithes or taxes for the re- 
 pairs of churches, or acknowledge the authority of the 
 priesthood, their determination to worship God publicly 
 and ]>roclaim the truth abroad, aroused the hatred of the 
 Church, angered all other sects, and brought against them 
 the penalties of the existing law, while their simple but 
 unwavering determination not to take off their hats, " not 
 for want of courtesy," as they said, but as a symbol of their 
 belief in man's equality, gained for them the suspicious 
 hostility of those whose privileges such a principle would 
 utterly destroy. 
 
 Against them, therefore, was directed the vengeance of 
 all parties and of every sect. Under all governments it 
 was the same, and the Quaker met with even worse treat- 
 ment from the Puritan government of New England than 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 259 
 
 he had received from either the stern republican of Crom- 
 well's time or the gay courtier of the Restoration. Though 
 his hand was lifted against no man, all men's were laid 
 heavily on him. Everywhere he was exposed to persecution 
 and nowhere understood. His religion was called fanaticism, 
 his courage stubbornness, his frugality avarice, his simplicity 
 ignorance, his piety hypocrisy, his freedom infidelity, his 
 conscientiousness rebellion. In En2:land the statutes ao;ainst 
 Dissenters, and every law that could be twisted for the 
 purpose, were vigorously enforced against him.* Special 
 ones were enacted for his benefit, and even Charles II., from 
 whose restoration they, in common with all men, expected 
 some relief — good-natured Charles, who in general found 
 it as hard to hate his enemies as to remember his friends ; 
 too indolent, for the most part, either to keep his word or 
 lose his temper — took the trouble to exclude the Quakers 
 by name from all indulgence.f During the Long Parlia- 
 ment, under the Protectorate, at the Restoration — for more 
 than thirty years — they were exposed to persecution, fined, 
 turned out-of-doors, mobbed, stoned, beaten, set in the 
 stocks, crowded in gaols in summer, and kept in foul dun- 
 geons without fire in the winter-time, to be releiised at last 
 and sold into colonial bondage.| But though they fought 
 no fight, they kept the faith. Whatever history may record 
 of their lives; whatever learning may think of their at- 
 tainments ; whatever philosophy may say of their intelli- 
 gence; whatever theology may hold about their creed; 
 whatever judgment a calmer posterity, in the light of a 
 
 * Vide Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. chap. xvi. 
 
 f Letter of the King to the Massachusetts Government. 
 
 J Vide Williamson's North Carolina. In one vessel, in March, 
 1664, sixty Quaker convicts were shipped for America. Vide also 
 Besse and Fox's Journal, Anno 1665. 
 
260 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 higher civilization and a freer age, may pass upon their 
 actions, none can deny that they were men who sought the 
 faith with zeal, believed with sincerity, met danger with 
 courage, and bore suffering with extraordinary fortitude. 
 Gold had no power to seduce, nor arms to frighten them. 
 " They are a people," said the great Protector, " whom I 
 cannot win with gifts, honors, offices, or places."* Dragged 
 from their assemblies, they returned ; their meeting-houses 
 torn down, they gathered on the ruins. Armed men dis- 
 persed them, and they came together again. Their enemies 
 " took shovels to throw rubbish on them, and they stood 
 close together, willing to be buried alive witnessing the 
 Lord." f And when in one of their darkest hours their 
 comrades lay languishing in prison, the rest marched in 
 procession to Westminster Hall to offer themselves to Par- 
 liament as hostages for their brethren. 
 
 I know of few things in the history of the English race 
 more noble than this act. No poet has made it the subject 
 of his eulogy, and even the historians of civil and religious 
 liberty have passed it by. But surely never did the groined 
 arches of that ancient hall look down upon a nobler spec- 
 tacle. They had seen many a more splendid and brilliant 
 one, but none more honorable than this. They had looked 
 down on balls and banquets, and coronations and the trial 
 of a king, but never, since they were hewn from their native 
 oak, did they behold a sight more honorable to human 
 nature than that of these humble Quakers grouped below. 
 They had rung with the most eloquent voices that ever spoke 
 
 * Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. p. 345 ; Fox's 
 Journal, p. 162. 
 
 f Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. p. 355 ; Barclay, 
 356, 483, 484. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 261 
 
 the English tongue, but never heard before such words as 
 these. (Let me repeat them here to-day, for among tliose 
 that spoke them were men that founded Burlington) : " In 
 Love to our Brethren," they say to Parliament, " that lie 
 in Prisons and Houses of Correction and Duno-eons, and 
 many in Fetters and Irons, and have been cruelly beat by 
 the cruel Gaolers, and many have been persecuted to Death 
 and have died in Prisons, and many lie sick and weak in 
 Prison and on Straw," we "do oifer up our Bodies and 
 Selves to you, for to put us as Lambs into the same Dun- 
 geons and Houses of Correction, and their Straw and nasty 
 Holes and Prisons, and do stand ready a Sacrifice for to go 
 into their Places, that they may go forth and not die in 
 Prison as many of the Brethi'en are dead already. For we 
 are willing to lay down our Lives for our Brethren and to 
 take their Sufferings upon us tliat you would inflict on 
 them. . . . And if you will receive our Bodies, which we 
 freely tender to you, for our Friends that are now in Prison 
 for speahing the Truth in several places ; for not paying 
 Tithes; for meeting together in the Fear of God ; for not 
 Swearing; for wearing their Hats; for being accounted as 
 Vagrants; for visiting Friends, and for Things of a like 
 Nature. We, whose Names are hereunto subscribed, being 
 a sufficient Number, are waiting in Westminster-hall for an 
 Answer from you to us, to answer our Tenders and to mani- 
 fest our Love to our Friends and to stop the Wrath and 
 Judgment from coming to our Enemies."* 
 
 Well done, disciple of the shoemaker of Nottingham ! 
 No prince or king ever spoke braver words than these! 
 What matter if your Parliament send back for answer sol- 
 
 * Vide Preface to Joseph Besse's Sufferings of the Quakers, vol. i. 
 p. iv. 
 
262 "^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 diers with pikes and muskets to drive you out into the 
 street? Go forth content! What if your brethren lan- 
 guish and die in gaol? You shall not long be parted. 
 What if the times be troubled and nights of sorrow follow 
 days of suffering? They cannot last forever. What if the 
 heathen rage and the swords of the wicked be drawn against 
 you ? The peace within you they cannot take away. The 
 world may note you little and history keep no record of 
 your life. Your kindred may pass you by in silence and 
 your name be unremembered by your children. No man 
 may know your resting-place. But what of that? You 
 have done one of those things that ennoble humanity — and 
 by One, at least, who saw it, you will not be unrewarded 
 nor forgotten ! 
 
 Such was the condition of affairs when the opportunity of 
 the Quakers arose out of the necessities of their enemies. 
 Between the Dutch New Netherlands and the English colony 
 of Virginia lay a noble river draining a fertile and pleasant 
 land. Hudson had discovered it in 1609, and the following 
 year the dying Lord de la Warr had bequeathed to it his 
 name. For thirty years the three Protestant nations of 
 Europe had contended for its shores, each victorious in its 
 turn, until, at length, the dominion of the Dutchman and 
 the Swede came to an end forever, and the flag of England 
 floated in triumph over their few and feeble settlements.* 
 
 It was at this time, in the year 1664, that the Duke of 
 York, afterward James II., eager to mend his fortunes, 
 persuaded King Charles II. to give him a large share of 
 
 * I cannot but regret the necessity which compelled me to pass 
 by in a paragraph the forty years which followed the expedition of 
 Captain Mey. Some future historian of Pennsylvania will find them 
 full of fascinating materials. Isaac Miekle's " Reminiscences of Old 
 Gloucester" is well worth reading in this connection. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 263 
 
 the newly-acquired territoiy in America. It was hardly 
 yet subdued, but Charles carelessly complied. In a patent, 
 the date of which reveals the duke's haste to secure the 
 grant, the king conveyed to his brother all that territory 
 M'hieli may be roughly described as lying between Delaware 
 Bay and the Canadian border. Hardly had the ink become 
 dry upon this parchment when James himself, in consider- 
 ation of " a competent sum of money," sold what is now 
 known as New Jersey to two of his friends, Sir George 
 Carteret and Lord Berkeley. England was now full of 
 colonization schemes. The rude interruption of the civil 
 war was over, and men began to remember the days when 
 Smith and lialeigh were wont to return from America with 
 glowing descriptions of what they had seen in that mys- 
 terious country. A sterner age had followed, and few now 
 perhaps cherished the golden visions which had led those 
 brilliant adventurers into the exploits which have immor- 
 talized their names, but there still lived in the Englishman 
 of the seventeenth century the love of adventure, and the 
 desire to spread the dominion of the Crown, and America 
 lay before him an attractive field. The failure of Sir Ed- 
 mund Ployden to carry out his romantic and fantastic plan 
 of building up a power called New Albion, of which he 
 assumed in advance the title of Earl Palatine,* taught an 
 unheeded lesson, and dreams of future empire continued to 
 dazzle many an English mind. But years passed by w^ith- 
 out result. Carteret, the younger of the new proprietors, 
 managed to plant some settlements in Eastern Jersey, where 
 to this day the city of Elizabeth perpetuates the name of his 
 
 * Vide Mickle's Reminiscences of Old Gloucester, p. 24. Beau- 
 champ Plantagenet's Description of New Albion, in the Philadelphia 
 Library. 
 
264 "^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 accomplished wife, and a few Englishmen from Connecticut 
 found a precarious foothold on the banks of the Delaware, 
 but for the most part all attempts to encourage immigration 
 ended in expensive failure. As it had been with Massa- 
 chusetts it was with Pennsylvania and the Jerseys. The 
 foot of the adventurer was not suifered to rest in peace upon 
 soil destined by the Almighty for a nobler purpose than to 
 enrich the unworthy or mend the broken fortunes of an 
 English nobleman. The fingers which had grasped so 
 eagerly the choice places of the New Continent were quickly 
 to be loosened, and the wilderness kept ready as a place of 
 refuge for an oppressed and persecuted people. 
 
 After ten years of thankless eiforts and unprofitable 
 ownership, and too old to hope for a realization of his 
 plans, my Lord Berkeley became anxious to be rid of his 
 province, and offered it for sale. The opportunity was a 
 rare one for the Quakers. To America they had naturally 
 looked as a place to which they might escape and bear with 
 them in peace their peculiar principles and creed. In that 
 distant country they might, it seemed to them, worship God 
 according to their consciences. Three thousand miles of 
 sea (ten times as great a distance then as now) would lie 
 between them and their enemies, and in the wilderness, at 
 least, with trial and privation would dwell peace. 
 
 For a while, indeed, they were deterred by a sentiment 
 that was natural to men of English blood. Persecution, 
 thought some of them, ought not to be avoided. The 
 trials, the sufferings, the dangers to which they were ex- 
 posed it was their duty to meet, and not to shun. Let us 
 endure these things for the glory of the truth, and not try, 
 like cowards, to avoid them. Let us bear this burden our- 
 selves, nor leave it for others to take up. This unwilling- 
 ness to flee before the face of persecution held them for 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 265 
 
 some time resolute and tirm. But, at length, another sen- 
 timent prev^ailed. It sprang from the thought that others 
 were destined to come after them. There is nothing more 
 remarkable in the history of this country than the fact that 
 those who settled it seem everywhere alike to have been 
 moved by the belief that they acted, not for themselves, 
 but for posterity. Not for himself alone did the Pilgrim 
 embark upon the Mayflower : not for himself alone did the 
 Puritan seek a shelter on the bleak shores of Massachusetts: 
 not for himself only did Roger Williams gather his little 
 colony at the head of Narragansett Bay ; and the same 
 faith that he was building in the wilderness a place of 
 refuge for the oppressed forever led the stern Quaker out 
 of England. Not for us, but for the sake of them that 
 shall come after us. This was the faith that sustained 
 them without a murnmr through all the horrors of a New 
 England winter ; that kept their courage up while the Con- 
 necticut Valley rang with the war-whoop of the Indian ; 
 that raised their fainting spirits beneath the scorching rays 
 of a Southern sun ; that made them content and hapj[)y in 
 the untrodden forest of New Jersey. 
 
 "The settlement of this country," writes one who wit- 
 nessed it, " was directed l)y an impulse on the spirits of 
 God's people, not for their own ease and tranquillity, but 
 rather for the posterity that should be after them.'* 
 
 Proud may we justly be, Americans, of those who laid 
 the foundations of our happiness. I know of no people 
 who can })oint to a purer and less selfish ancestry — of no 
 nation that looks back to a nobler or more honorable origin. 
 
 There were many reasons why our forefathers, when at 
 
 * Thomas Shai'p's Memoir in Newton Monthly Meeting Records. 
 Vide Bowden's History of Friends, p. 16. 
 
 18 
 
266 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 last they had convinced themselves that it was right for 
 them to emigrate, should have turned their eyes upon New 
 Jersey. The unrelenting Puritan had long ago shut in 
 their faces the doors of Massachusetts Bay and Plymouth 
 Colony. New York had already been appropriated by the 
 Dutch, and the followers of Fox could find little sympathy 
 among; those who had established settlements within the 
 wide borders of the Old Dominion. Besides, George Fox 
 himself had travelled across New Jersey two or three years 
 before. He had seen the beauty of the South Piver and 
 the majestic forests that lined its shores. The Swedes and 
 Dutch upon its banks were few in number and of a peace- 
 ful disposition, and the Indians, its natives, were noted for 
 their gentleness. The river of Delaware was universally 
 described as a " goodly and noble river" — the soil was rich 
 and fertile, the " air," as was soon to be written, was " very 
 delicate, pleasant, and wholesome, the heavens serene, rarely 
 overcast, bearing mighty resemblance to the better part of 
 France."* Just at this time the property of Lord Berke- 
 ley was offered for sale. The wealthier men among the 
 Friends saw the opportunity, and Edward Byllynge and 
 John Fenwick became its purchasers. A devoted Friend, 
 Byllynge had been one of those who offered themselves as 
 hostages at Westminster in 1659. He had suffered like all 
 the rest, but had continued to be thought a man of prop- 
 erty. But times were hard, and when the conveyance came 
 to be made the name of John Fenwick, as trustee, was 
 substituted for that of Byllynge, and after a little while all 
 the interest of the latter was given up for the benefit of 
 creditors to three trustees, Gawen Lawrie, Nicholas Lucas, 
 
 * Gabriel Thomas's Description of Pennsylvania and West Jersey, 
 published in 1698, p. 7. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 267 
 
 and William Pcnn. Now for the first time in American 
 history appears the name of that great man whom, in the 
 words of Lord Macaulay, who viewed him with mistaken 
 and unfriendly eye, " a great Commonwealth regards with 
 a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for 
 Theseus and the Romans for Quirinus."* It is interesting 
 to remark, as one reads of the reluctance with which he 
 assumed this task, how directly Penn's connection with the 
 settlement of Burlington led to the founding of Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 It was now the year of Grace 1675. John Fenwick, a 
 soldier of the civil Avar and now a Quaker (whose memory 
 has been recently preserved by the pen of a Jerseymanf), 
 soon set sail Avitli his family and a small company of 
 Friends. Entering the Capes, after a prosperous voyage, 
 he landed on the eastern shore at a "pleasant, rich spot," 
 to which, in memory of its peaceful aspect, he gave the 
 name of Salem — an appellation which that quiet town has 
 continued to deserve even unto this day. Two years of 
 comparative inaction followed. Troublesome disputes be- 
 tween Fenwick and Byllynge, which it required all the 
 authority and address of Penn to settle, threatened destruc- 
 tion to the colony. But at length these came to an end, 
 and the settlement began in earnest. There were important 
 things to be done at the beginning. First, the province 
 had to be divided by agreement with the owner of the 
 other half, and this was not accomplished until 1676. A 
 line was provided to be drawn northward from Egg Har- 
 
 * Macaulay's History of England, vol. i. p. 394. 
 
 t lion. John Clement, of Iladdonfield, New Jersey, to whom I am 
 indebted for kind suggestions in the preparation of this address. A 
 full account of the relations of Fenwick and Byllynge may be found 
 in his valuable History of Fenwick's Colony. 
 
268 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 bor to the Delaware, dividing the province into two. The 
 eastern part was taken by Sir George Carteret ; the other by 
 the trustees, who gave it the name of West New Jersey. 
 Penn and his agents next divided their share into one hun- 
 dred parts, of which they assigned ten to Fenwick and 
 ninety to the creditors of Byllynge. But their most im- 
 portant duty was to frame a constitution for tlie new coun- 
 try. This was no easy task. None of these men were 
 legislators. Neither by birth nor election had they en- 
 joyed the advantages of experience in the legislative bodies 
 of their country. They were not generally men of reading 
 or education (with the exception of Penn), nor of that 
 training which is usually essential to true statesmanship. 
 Nor in those days had the making of free constitutions 
 been a frequent task. He who attempted it entered an 
 unknown and dangerous country, full of disappointments. 
 Lucas and LaM^rie were men of business little known ; 
 Penn was a youth of two-and-thirty, and among all their 
 associates there were few who had knowledge and none 
 who had experience of Statecraft. But they were animated 
 by the truest spirit of philanthropy, by the sincerest love 
 of liberty, by the warmest devotion to what they under- 
 stood to be the command of God. And they were, after 
 all, worthy to lay the foundations of a free and humane 
 government. Independence of thought, Freedom of per- 
 son, Liberty of conscience : these were the things they all 
 believed in, and for them they were ready to make any 
 sacrifice. For liberty they had suffered each and all. For 
 it, men like them had scorned danger and gone chanting 
 into battle. For the sake of it they had even welcomed 
 the horrors of civil war. For it they had charged their 
 brethren at Naseby and ridden rough-shod over their kin- 
 dred upon Marston Moor. And now they were ready, if 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 269 
 
 the day were lost at home, to abandon all and seek it be- 
 yond the sea. On liberal principles, then, did they natur- 
 ally determine to build up their new government in the 
 wilderness, where, a century afterward, their children, for 
 whom they were making so many sacrifices, were destined 
 to fight over again the same battle with an equal courage 
 and devotion. Little did they dream — those stern yet 
 gentle men of peace — wdien they gave to their infant 
 Commonwealth freedom from all taxation except what its 
 own Assemblies should impose, that a hundred years later 
 England would rise up, sword in hand, to take it back ; 
 that for the sake of a principle, which they never thought 
 to call in question, the little town which they were about 
 to found would one day tremble at the roar of contending 
 cannon, and the banks of Delaware be stained with Eng- 
 lish blood ! Could they have been permitted to foresee the 
 struggle that was yet to come they could not more wisely 
 have prepared posterity to meet it. First, they created an 
 Executive and Legislative power ; the former to be chosen 
 by the latter, the Assembly by the people, voting to be by 
 ballot, and every man capable to choose and to be chosen. 
 Each member of the Assembly they agreed " hath liberty 
 of speech," and shall receive for wages one shilling a day, 
 " that thereby he may be known as the servant, of the peo- 
 ple." No man shall be imprisoned for debt nor, without 
 the verdict of a jury, deprived of life, liberty or estate, 
 "and all and every person in the province shall, by the 
 help of the Lord and these fundamentals, be free from op- 
 pression and slavery." The Indian was to be protected in 
 his rights and the orphan brought up by the State. Re- 
 ligious freedom in its broadest sense was to be secured, and 
 no one " in the least punished or hurt, in person, estate or 
 privilege, for the sake of his opinion, judgment, faith, or 
 
270 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 worship toward God in matters of religion ; for no man nor 
 number of men upon earth have power to rule over men's 
 consciences."* " Such," writes one who, though an alien 
 to their blood and of an hostile creed, could do them justice, 
 "is an outline of the composition which forms the first 
 essay of Quaker legislation, and entitles its authors to no 
 mean share in the honor of planting civil and religious 
 liberty in America/'f Happy would it have been for 
 the children of those simple-minded men had they never 
 departed from ideas so true, so wise, and so humane ! 
 
 The authors of this document, adopted and signed on the 
 3d of March, 1676, seem to have seen the goodness of their 
 handiwork. " There," they cry in words which are at once 
 a prophesy and a confession of faith, " we lay a foundation 
 for after-ages to understand their liberty, as men and 
 Christians, that they may not be brought in bondage but 
 by their own consent. For we put the power in the people.^^X 
 
 So much, then, for this government on paper. AVhere 
 now are the men to put it into execution? They come 
 from two diiferent parts of England. Among the cred- 
 itors of Byllynge were five Friends who dwelt in Yorkshire. 
 Persecutions had been very severe in that county, and York 
 Castle at one time contained a large number of prominent 
 Friends.§ Among these latter were five heads of families 
 
 * Smith prints this remarkable document in full in the appendix 
 to his History of New Jersey, p. 512. 
 
 t History of the United States, by James Grahame, LL.D., vol. i. 
 p. 475. 
 
 X Letter of Penn and the others to Ilartshorne, London, 6th mo. 
 26, 1676 ; Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 80. 
 
 I William Clayton, Richard nancock, John Ellis, Richard Guy, 
 and Richard Woodmancy were in York Castle at different times 
 between 1660 and 1677 ; Christopher Wetherill in Beverley Gaol in 
 1660. F/rfc Besse, ^assm. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 271 
 
 who were glad to join the creditors of Byllynge in their 
 new plan for settling West Jersey, and a company was 
 speedily formed among them, which was known as the 
 Yorkshire Company. It was thus that the names of Clay- 
 ton, Ellis, Hancock, Helmsley, Stacy, and Wetherill first 
 came to be transported into Jersey. Meantime another 
 coraj)any was forming in the vicinity of London. Men 
 came from different parts of England to join its ranks ; 
 William Peachy, fresh from his trial at Bristol and under 
 sentence of banishment as a convict for attending: " meet- 
 ings;" John Kinsey, of Hadham in Hertfordshire, himself 
 a prisoner a few years before, and marked among these 
 settlers of Burlington as the first to die ; John Cripps, 
 twelve days in a cell in Newgate for " keeping his hat on 
 in a bold, irreverent manner" when the Lord Mayor passed 
 by into Guildhall ; Thomas Ollive, familiar with the inside 
 of Northampton Gaol ; John Woolston, his companion in 
 that prison, and Dr. Daniel AYills, tried for banishment for 
 a third offence, and thrice in prison for holding meetings in 
 his house.* The last three were all men of note, and their 
 joining the London Company had great influence on its 
 history. In the little town of Wellingborough, the home 
 of Ollive, and near which the others dwelt, there was a 
 monthly meeting. Here Dewsbury, in 1654, had converted 
 many to the Truth, and here he had been mobbed and 
 thrown in gaol. By the spring of 1677 his disciples had 
 become numerous in Northamptonshire, and nowhere, per- 
 
 * Vide Besse's Sufferings, where these facts are all set forth with 
 painful particularity. The names of nearly all the early settlers of 
 Burlington can be found in that record of persecution. I doubt if 
 there has ever been another town of which so many of its citizens 
 had been in gaol. Certainlj'- no other can speak of the matter Avith 
 so much honest pride. 
 
272 "THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 haps, had the propriety of going to America been more 
 earnestly discussed. " Many who were vahiable," sayS an 
 old account, "doubting, lest it should be deemed flying 
 from persecution." In the midst of this discussion, he, 
 who had converted so many in the place twelve years before, 
 gathered the faithful about him and bade them go. "The 
 Lord," he said, "is about to plant the wilderness of America 
 with a choice vine of noble seed, which shall grow and 
 flourish." Let His servants depart thither and they shall 
 do well. "I see them, I see them, under His blessing, 
 arising into a prosperous and happy state."* And so it 
 came about that many of that little band followed the lead 
 of Thomas Ollive and Dr. Daniel Wills, and turned their 
 faces toward London. 
 
 The preparations are now made and the time for departure 
 is at hand. The two companies have appointed commis- 
 sioners to govern them — Joseph Helmsley, Robert Stacy, 
 William Eraley, and Thomas Foulke, for the Yorkshire 
 people; Thomas Ollive, Daniel Wills, John Penford, and 
 Benjamin Scott, for the London purchasers. They have 
 secured a staunch ship, under the command of an expe- 
 rienced seaman, and she is now lying ready in the Thames. 
 With what feelings does this band of self-devoted exiles go 
 on board ! Does any one of tlie half million souls in the 
 great metropolis notice the little company of English yeo- 
 men, as, laden with their scanty store of household stuff' 
 and leading their wives and children by the hand, they 
 shake the dust of England from their feet and clamber on 
 the deck ? Does any one foresee, as he looks with pride on 
 
 * Life of William Dewsbury ; Account of James and William 
 Brown in Nottingham, Pennsylvania, Monthly Meeting Records. 
 Vide aLvo The Friend, vol. 23, pp. 443, 451. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 273 
 
 the forest of masts and yard-arms tliat stretches from Lon- 
 don Tower to London Bridge, that of all the ships that 
 move to and fro beneath him, or lie at anchor in the 
 crowded Thames, but one shall be remembered? It is not 
 that big merchantman, fast to yonder wharf, discharging 
 the rich cargo she has just brought from the Indies; nor 
 this gallant vessel that, as she swings with the tide, turns 
 to him a hull scarred with many a Dutch or Spanish 
 broadside; nor yet the stately ship that, at this moment, 
 comes slowly up, under full sail, from Gravesend. Long 
 after these and they that sailed them shall have been for- 
 gotten, the happy citizens of a free commonwealth in a 
 distant land shall speak with affectionate remembrance of 
 the good ship " Kent" and " Master Godfrey Marlow !" 
 Obscure and unnoticed and, perhaps on that account undis- 
 turbed, all are at last on board. They have taken leave of 
 their country ; it remains only to say farewell to their King. 
 It is a pleasant day in the opening summer, and London is 
 full of gayety. The banquets at Whitehall have never 
 been more brilliant, and the King, in spite of French 
 victories and Popish plots and Quaker persecutions, is as 
 gay as ever. What cares good-natured Charles, or my lady 
 of Cleveland, or his Lordship of Buckingham if the public 
 mind be full of discontent and the public coffers empty and 
 the prestige of England be threatened both on sea and 
 land ? The weather is fine, the French gold still holds 
 out, and the charms of Her Grace of Portsmouth are as 
 fresh as ever. The bright sun and the pleasant air tempt 
 His Majesty upon the water and he passes the afternoon 
 floating in his barge. The Thames is full of shipping, for 
 at this time London has no rival in commerce but Amster- 
 dam, and the King amuses himself watching the vessels as 
 they come to and fro. Suddenly the barge aj)proaches a 
 
274 '^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 ship evidently about to sail. Something attracts the King, 
 and draws him near. A group of men and women are on 
 the deck, plain in appearance, sombre in dress, quiet in 
 demeanor. They are of the yeoman class chiefly, and the 
 gay courtiers wonder what attracts the attention of the 
 King. The two strangely different vessels come together, 
 and for a moment those widely separated companies are face 
 to face. Charles, with that pleasant voice that could heal 
 with a friendly phrase the wounds inflicted by a lifetime of 
 ingratitude, inquires who they are. " Quakers, bound to 
 America !" is the reply. There is a pause for an instant, 
 and then the King, with a royal gesture, flings them his 
 blessing, and Charles II. and his Quaker subjects have 
 parted forever.* Each to his fate according to his manner. 
 " Now," said old Socrates to his weeping friends, " it is time 
 to part, you to life and I to death — which of the two things 
 is the better is known only unto God."t And now the 
 wind is fair and the tide is full and the steeples of London 
 are sinking in the west. Farewell, broad fields of Norfolk 
 and pleasant Kentish woods ! Farewell, ye Yorkshire 
 moors and sloping Sussex downs ! Farewell, old mother 
 England! Our feet shall never tread upon your shores 
 again. Our eyes shall never more behold your face ; but 
 from our loins a greater Britain shall arise to bless a con- 
 tinent with English law and English liberty and English 
 speech ! 
 
 On the 6th of August (old style), 1677, there is excite- 
 ment on the Kent. The voyage has been fair, but the 
 
 * Vide Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 93 : " King; Chai-les the 
 Second in his barge, pleasuring on the Thames, came alongside, 
 seeing a great many passengers, and, informed whence they were 
 bound, asked if they were all Quakers, and gave them his blessing.'' 
 
 t Plato's Apologia, cap. xxxiii. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 275 
 
 ocean is wide and full of perils, and all are longing for the 
 land. Suddenly a faint line appears on the horizon. Slowly 
 it rises from the sea until at last the straining ej'es of the 
 Kent's passengers can make out land. It is a low, sandy 
 beach projecting far into the sea. By and by behind it 
 appears the faint blue of distant hills, and at last the clear 
 outlines of a well-wooded shore. The old ship turns to the 
 northwest and enters tlie mouth of a beautiful bay. This 
 is the first view of the Western World — the harbor of New 
 York. The object the emigrants have in view in coming 
 here is to wait upon Sir Edmund Andros, the Duke of 
 York's lately appointed governor of his territory.* Ac- 
 cordingly the commissioners go on shore. Andros receives 
 them coldly. They inform him of their purpose to settle 
 on the Delaware. He feigns an ignorance of their author- 
 ity. They remind him of the law, and repeat how the land 
 in West Jersey was granted by the King to his brother, by 
 the Duke to Carteret and Berkeley, and by them to their 
 grantors. It is of no use. " Show me a line from the 
 Duke himself," says Andros. They have neglected this 
 precaution. Upon which the governor forbids them to 
 proceed, and when remonstrated with, touches his sword 
 significantly. Here is a new and unexpected trouble, and 
 it is no comfort to learn that John Fenwick is at the 
 moment a prisoner in New York for attempting his settle- 
 ment at Salem without the Duke's authority. Suddenly 
 their perplexity is unexpectedly relieved. If they will take 
 commissions from him Sir Edmund will allow them to set 
 sail, but they must promise to write to England and abide 
 by the result. Anxious to escape from the dilemma they 
 accept the proposal ; Fenwick is released at the same time, 
 
 * Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 93. 
 
276 I'HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 and they set sail for the Delaware. On the 16th day of 
 August — about the 26th according to our style — they reach 
 the site of New Castle, and presently — two hundred and 
 thirty in number — land at the mouth of Raccoon Creek.* 
 The few settlements of the Dutch and Swedes have hardly 
 changed the original appearance of the country, and they 
 find themselves on the borders of a wilderness. The Swedes 
 have a few houses at the landing-place, and in these and in 
 tents and caves our new-comers take temporary lodging. It 
 is a change from the snug homes to which they have been 
 accustomed, and tlie fare they find is rough, but there is no 
 murmuring among them. "I never heard them say," 
 wrote one of their number, who had herself exchanged a 
 pleasant home in England for a cave — "I never heard 
 them say ' I would I had never come,' which it is worth 
 observing, considering how plentifully they had lived in 2 
 
 England."t But they were not given to complaining, and *• ' 
 
 * Smith's History, p. 93. 
 
 f Barber and Howe's Historical Collection, p. 90. " My friend 
 William John Potts, Esq., of Camden, New Jersey, an indefatigable 
 antiquary, whose acquaintance with early history has been of the 
 greatest assistance to me, writes : ' Some of them were obliged to live 
 in caves, owing to the scarcity of houses. Similar instances occurred 
 in the first settlement of Philadelphia. I have the honor to descend 
 from a cave-dweller myself. The most noted instance of this I think 
 you will find in Barber and Howe, under Columbus, where it is men- 
 tioned that in that part of Burlington County Thomas Seattergood, 
 whose benevolent name still flourishes among us, brought up nine 
 children in a cave.' Like Mr. Potts, I can count a cave-dweller 
 among my ancestors. One of them sailed up Dock Creek, now Dock 
 Street, and landing, lived in a cave below Second Street while his 
 house was building. No less a person than Francis Daniel Pastorius 
 lived in a cave in October, 1683. These caves were excavations in 
 the banks, roofed and faced with logs overlaid with sod or bark, or 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 211 
 
 moreover the autumn is at hand. Without delay the com- 
 missioners set out to examine the country and settle the 
 terms of purchase with the Indians. Accompanied by 
 Swedisli interpreters they buy three tracts — from the As- 
 san])ink to the liancocas, from Rancocas to Timber Creek, 
 and from Timber Creek to Old Man's Creek.* The York- 
 shire purchasers choose the former as their share; the 
 London decide to settle at Arwaumus, near tiie present 
 Gloucester; and Daniel Wills orders timber to be felled 
 and grass to be cut in preparation for the winter. 
 
 But a second thought prevails. Why should we sepa- 
 rate? We have passed through many perils together, we 
 are few in number, the forests are thick and full of savages ; 
 let us build a town in company. It is at once agreed upon. 
 Where shall it be? Old Man's Creek is too near John 
 Fenwick's colony ; Assanpink is too far ; the mouth of the 
 Rancocas is a marsh. None of these points will do. About 
 six miles above the last-named creek, within the limits of 
 the Yorkshire tenth, there are two islands. One, called 
 " Matiniconk," lies in the middle of the river, which here 
 turns suddenly to the south, and forms a little bay. The 
 other lies close against the Jersey shore, from which it is 
 separated only by a narrow creek w'here the tide ebbs and 
 flows, and is known as "Jegou's Island." It has taken 
 this name not from an Indian chief, as is at first supposed, 
 but from a Frenchman who lately lived at " Water-Lily 
 Point."t On this neck of land between the Asiskonk 
 
 plastered with clay." — Vide \Yatson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. i. 
 p. 171. 
 
 * The list of articles paid for the land can be found in Smith's 
 History of New Jersey, p. 95, note. 
 
 f In an unpublished lecture delivered in 1S70, the Rev. William 
 Allen Johnson, formerly rector of St. Mary's, has solved these two 
 
278 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 Creek and the Delaware River, opposite Matiniconk, three g 
 
 Dutchmen settled long before the surrender to the English. f 
 
 Their rights were recognized by Governor Carteret in 1666, 
 and soon afterward sold to Peter Jegou, M'ho, about 1668, ' 
 
 armed with a license from the same authority, built on the '• 
 
 point, hard by the water-side, a log house after the Swedish 
 fashion.* It was the only tavern in this part of the country. 
 And it was well placed, for at this point the narrow foot- 
 path which leads through the woods from the banks of the 
 North River comes out upon the Delaware, and those who 
 journey from Manhattan toward Virginia, must cross the - 
 
 latter river at this point. This is the place which Gov- W 
 
 ernor Lovelace meant when in .expectation of a journey 
 thither some years ago, he directed one of his servauts to » 
 
 "go with the horse allotted by the captain, as speedily as a 
 
 you can, to Navesiuk, and thence to the house of Mr. Jegoe, ■ 
 
 riffht ag-ainst Matiniconk Island, on Delaware River, where 
 there are persons ready to receive you."f But the journey 
 was not undertaken, for somehow or other Jegou became 
 an object of hatred to the Indians, and recently (in 1670) || 
 
 they have plundered him and driven him away. His house W 
 
 questions, which so long puzzled the local antiquary : " Chygoe," 
 he says, is a misspelling of the name of Jegou, and "Lazy" or 
 " Leazy" Point — which he has found spelled in five different ways -S 
 
 — a corruption of the Dutch word Lisch, Pond- or Water-Lily. I 'f 
 
 have no doubt of the correctness of this simple explanation. Water- ' 
 
 Lily Point would not be an inappropriate name for the place to- 
 day. Mr. Johnson's lecture was the result of much labor and 
 careful examination. The credit of settling these points belongs 
 entirely to him. 
 
 * Record of Upland Court, 9th mo. 25, 1679 ; Memoirs of Histori- 
 cal Society of Pennsylvania, vol. vii. p. 140. 
 
 f For this I am indebted to the discoveries among the Records at 
 Albany of the Rev. W. A. Johnson. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 279 
 
 was empty and deserted five years ago, as is mentioned by 
 a very noted traveller. After a day's journey of fifty miles 
 without seeing man or woman, house or dwelling-place, he 
 says, " at night, finding an old house which the Indians had 
 forced the people to leave, we made a fire and lay there at 
 the head of Delaware Bay. The next day we swam our 
 horses over the river, about a mile, twice, first to an island 
 called Upper Dinidock, and then to the mainland, having 
 hired Indians to help us over in their canoes." This is 
 especially interesting, for the name of that traveller was 
 George Fox.* 
 
 " Matiniconk" lies too far from the mainland, but Jegou's 
 Island is a very fit place for a town. It is about a mile 
 long and half as wade. It lies, as I have said, on the only 
 path between the North River and the South, and the chan- 
 nel in front of it is deep enough for ships of large burden. 
 Its soil is rich, its meadows rank with grass, its trees tall 
 and luxuriant, and its green and sloping bank destined to 
 be always beautiful. The decision in its favor is soon made, 
 and the emigrants, embarking in small boats, ascend the 
 Delaware. 
 
 Tinakonk, the residence of the ancient Swedish Gover- 
 nors ; Wickakoe, a small settlement of that people, close to 
 the high bluff called " Coaquannock," " a splendid site for a 
 town ;" Takona, an ancient Indian town, and the mouth of 
 the Rancocas, or " Northampton River," are passed in turn. 
 It is already late in October, and the wild landscape lies 
 bathed in the mellow glory of the Indian summer. Beneath 
 a sky more cloudless than English eyes have been wont to 
 see, waves the primeval forest clad in the rainbow garments 
 of the Fall. No sound breaks the stillness save the plash 
 
 * Fox's Journal, 7th mo. 10, 1672 
 
280 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 of the oars in the water or the whistling of the wings of the 
 wild-fowl that rise in countless numbers from the marshes. 
 The air is full of the perfume of grapes, that hang in 
 clusters on the banks and climb from tree to tree, and the 
 sturgeons leap before the advancing prow. The startled 
 deer stands motionless upon the beach ; and hidden in the 
 tangled thickets the Indian gazes in silent wonder at 
 the pale-faced strangers who have come to take his place 
 in the land of his fathers. Presently the river seems 
 suddenly to come to a stop. On the left is a gravel beach. 
 In the distance in front, is an island, with a steep red bank 
 washed by the rushing stream and pierced with swallows' 
 holes. To the right, a bit of marsh, the mouth of a 
 silvery creek, a meadow sloping to the shore, and then 
 a high bank lined with mulberries and sycamores and 
 unutterably green. For the first time, and after so many 
 days, the eyes of its founders have rested U230n Burling- 
 ton ! 
 
 Among them was a youth of one-and-twenty. The first 
 of his race to be born in the Quaker faith, he had grown 
 up amid persecution and been familiar with suffering from 
 his boyhood. A child of tender years he had, wonderingly, 
 followed his family, driven from their old home for con- 
 science' sake, and among his earliest recollections was the 
 admonition of his dying father to seek a refuge beyond the 
 sea. Beside him was the English maiden who, in a short 
 time, in the primitive meeting-house made of a sail taken 
 from the Kent, was to become his wife. Little that youth- 
 ful pair imagined, as they gazed for the first time on Jegou's 
 Island, that at the end of two centuries, one of their name 
 and lineage, looking back to them over the graves of five 
 generations of their children, would stand here in old Bur- 
 lington to-day, and lift his voice in commemoration of an 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 281 
 
 event in Mhich tlicy were then taking an humble but honor- 
 able part !* 
 
 Among those who landed on the bank at Burlington on 
 that autumn day was Richard Noble, a surveyor. He had 
 come with John Fen wick two years before, and his profes- 
 sion had naturally made him familiar with the country. To 
 him was at once committed the duty of laying out the town 
 — a labor in which William Matlack and others of the 
 young men assisted. t A broad and imposing main street 
 was opened through the forest, running at right angles to 
 the river, southward into the country. It is probable that 
 it did not at first extend very far past the place at which 
 we are gathered now. Another, crossing it, ran lengthwise 
 through the middle of the island, and a third Avas opened 
 on the bank. The town thus laid out was divided into 
 twenty properties — ten in the eastern part for the Yorkshire 
 men, and ten in the western for the London proprietors. 
 All hands went at once to work to prepare for the winter. 
 Marshall, a carpenter, directed the building, and the forests 
 began to resound with the blows of his axe. A clearing 
 
 * James Browne, tlie fourth son of Richard and Mary Browne, of 
 Sywell, in Northamptonshire, was born on the 27th of 3d month, 
 165G. His father, whom William Dewsbury had converted in 1654-5, 
 died in 1662, before which time the family had removed to Pudding- 
 ton, in Bedfordshire. James remained at Burlington but a short 
 time, settling in 1678 at Chichester or Markus Hook, in Pennsyl- 
 vania. On the 8tli of the 6tli month, 1679, he married, at Burling- 
 ton, Honour, the daughter of William Clayton (one of the Yorksliire 
 purchasers and a passenger with his family in the Kent). lie lived 
 on his place, called " Podington," on Chichester Creek, until 1705, 
 when he gave it to his son William and removed "into the wilder- 
 ness." He died at Nottingham, Pennsylvania, in 1716. 
 
 f William Matlack's affidavit, stating these facts, is to be found 
 in Book A, in the Surveyor-General's office in Burlington. 
 
 19 
 
282 'THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 was made on the south side of tlie raaui street, near Broad, 
 and a tent pitched there as a temporary meeting-honse. In 
 a short time the settlement began to have the appearance of 
 a town, and, when worthy of a name, in memory of a vil- 
 lage in old Yorkshire, was christened " Burlington."* The 
 dwellings were at first caves, dug in the banks and faced 
 with boards, or shanties of the most primitive description. 
 They were not built of logs, as is popularly believed. It 
 is to the Swede alone that we owe the " block-house" of 
 our early Indian wars and the " log cabin" of political cam- 
 paigns. Two Dutch travellers who saw Burlington when 
 it was two years old, say on this point that " the English 
 and many others have houses made of nothing but clap- 
 boards, as they call them here. They make a wooden 
 frame, as in Westphalia and at Altona, but not so strong, 
 then split boards of clapwood like coopers' staves, though 
 unbent, so that the thickest end is about a little finger thick, 
 and the other is made sharp like the end of a knife. They 
 are about five or six feet long, and are nailed on with the 
 ends lapping over each other. . . . When it is cold and 
 windy the best people plaster them with clay."t From 
 these details we can imagine the homes of our first settlers, 
 " many of whom," says one of them, " had been men of 
 good estate." That they remembered their English homes 
 
 * Smith says it was first called New Beverley, and next, Bridling- 
 ton, and by the latter name it appears on Holme's Map, dated 1682. 
 I find, however, that the earliest letters written from the place (sev- 
 eral within a week or two of the beginning of the town) are dated 
 at " Burlington." Bridlington and Burlington are the same name, 
 and the latter is a very old form of the word. Richard Boyle was 
 created Earl of BnrUngton in 1663. 
 
 t Journal of Dankcrs and Sluyter in 1679, published by Long 
 Island Historical Society, vol. i. pp. 173-175. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 283 
 
 M'itli fond aflPcctioii is proved in many ways. Wills gave 
 to one portion of the neighborhood the name of his native 
 " ^Northampton," which it bears to-day, and the township 
 of " Willingborough," where many of you dwell, recalls the 
 home of Ollive. " York" Street is close at hand, though 
 the bridge that bore that name has disappeared ; and what 
 boy is there in Burlington to-day that has not thrown a 
 line from " London" bridge ? " Oh, remember us," they 
 write to their friends in England, " for we cannot forget 
 you ; many waters cannot quench our love nor distance 
 wear out the deep remembrance. . . . Tiiough the Lord 
 hath been pleased to remove us far away from you, as to 
 the ends of the earth, yet are we present with you. Your 
 exercises are ours ; our hearts are dissolved in the remem- 
 brance of you." 
 
 But though their thoughts turned fondly to England and 
 their brethren, they did not repine. They found the coun- 
 try good ; " so good," wrote one as early as the 6th of No- 
 vember, 1677, " that I do not see how reasonably it can be 
 found fault with. The country and air seem very agreeable 
 to our bodies, and we have very good stomachs to our 
 victuals. Here is plenty of provision, of fish and fowl and 
 good venison, not dry, but full of gravy. And I do be- 
 lieve that this river of Delaware is as good a river as most 
 in the world." " I like the place well," said another, three 
 days afterward ; " it's like to be a healthful place and very 
 pleasant to live in." A report having spread in England 
 that the w^ater and soil were bad, and danger to be feared 
 from bears, wolves, rattlesnakes, and Indians — the first, but 
 not the last time that Burlington has been slandered — six 
 of the leading settlers indignantly deny its truth, declaring 
 that " those that cannot be contented with such a country 
 and such land as this is are not worthy to come here." "" I 
 
284 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 affirm," said one, " that these reports are not true, and fear 
 they were spoke from a spirit of envy. It is a country that 
 produceth all things for the support and sustenance of man. 
 I have seen orchards laden with fruit to admiration ; their 
 very limbs torn to pieces with the weiglit, and most deli- 
 cious to the taste and lovely to behold. I have seen an 
 apple-tree from a yippin kernel yield a barrel of curious 
 cyder, and peaches in such plenty that some people took 
 their carts a peach gathering. I could not but smile at the 
 conceit of it. I have known this summer forty bushels of 
 bold wheat from one bushel sown. We have from the time 
 called May till Michaelmas great store of very good wild 
 fruits — strawberries, cranberries, and whortleberries, very 
 wholesome. Of the cranberries, like cherries for color and 
 bigness, an excellent sauce is made for venison and turkeys. 
 Of these we have great . plenty, and all sorts of fish and 
 game. Indeed the country, take it as a wilderness, is a 
 most brave country, and," he adds, in words that you may 
 make use of to the world yourselves to-day, "whatever 
 envy or evil spies may speak of it, I could wish you all 
 here."* From the Indians these settlers exjjerienccd little 
 trouble. The JNIantas, it is true, who dwelt hard by, had 
 committed a murder at Matiniconk and plundered poor 
 Jegou some years before the arrival of the Kent, but these 
 were exceptional instances. The Leni Lenape were a peaceful 
 race. Upright in person and straight of limb, their fierce 
 countenances of tawny reddish-brown belied a gentle nature. 
 Grave even to sadness, courteous to strangers and respectful 
 to the old, never in haste to speak, and of cool, deliberate 
 temper, this mysterious people easily forgave injury and 
 never forgot kindness — more than repaying the benevolent 
 
 * Smith's History of New Jersey contains these letters. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 285 
 
 humanity of the settlers of Burlington by a forbearing 
 friendship that lived as long as they. At the same time at 
 which the savages of Virginia were punishing cold-blooded 
 murder with passionate bloodshed, and scourging with fury 
 every plantation from the Potomac to the James, and on the 
 northern sky the light of blazing villages, from one end of 
 New England to the other, marked the despairing vengeance 
 of King Philip, the banks of Delaware smiled in unbroken 
 peace, and their simple-hearted native, conscious of the fate 
 that would speedily overtake his people — which no one fore- 
 told sooner or more toucliingly than he — was saying in a 
 council here in Burlington : '^ We are your brothers, and 
 intend to live like brothers with you. We will have a 
 broad jmth for you and us to walk in. If an Indian be 
 asleep in this path, the Englishman shall pass him by and 
 do him no harm ; and if an Englishman be asleep in it, 
 the Indian shall pass him by and say : ' He is an English- 
 man — he is asleep — let him alone.' The path shall be 
 plain ; there shall not be in it a stump to hurt the feet."* 
 
 The soil fertile, the climate healthy, the situation good, 
 and the Indian friendly, the little settlement soon became 
 a prosperous colony. Ships began to come with emigrants 
 from different parts of England. The Willing Mind, from 
 London, with sixty passengers; the " Flieboat" Martha, 
 from the older Burlington, with one hundred and fourteen ; 
 the Shield, from Hull, and several more beside. It is this 
 
 * Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 100, and 136, note ; Bancroft, 
 vol. ii. p. 102, et seq.; Idem., p. 216. " When six of the hostile cliief- 
 tains pi'esented themselves as messengers to treat of a reconcilia- 
 tion, in the hlind fury of the moment they were murdered." This 
 was in 1675. The war in Virginia continued more than a year after- 
 wards. King Philip's "rebellion" broke out in June, 1675. He 
 was killed in August, 1676. 
 
286 'I'HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 last one of which the story is told that tacking too near the 
 
 high shore called " Coaquannock/' her masts caught in an 
 
 overhanging tree, and her passengers, unconscious of the 
 
 Philade]]>hia that was soon to be, were struck by the beauty 
 
 of the site, and spoke of its fitness for a town.* The 
 
 forests were feUed and farms s]>rang up in all directions. 
 
 Ollive's new mill, on the " Mill Creek" that runs into 
 
 Rancocas, was quickly built. The trade with Barbadoes , 
 
 w^as begun by Mahlon Stacy and others as early as the 
 
 winter of 1679-80, whose ^' ketch of fifty tons" met with 
 
 the good fortune their enterprise deserved. By an Act of 
 
 Assembly in the following year, " all vessels bound to the 
 
 province" were " obliged to enter and clear at" its " chief ^ i 
 
 town and head," "the port of Burlington," and at the 
 
 same time two annual fairs were provided for in the market 
 
 street, " for all sorts of cattle and all manner of merchan- .^ 
 
 dise."t But in the bustle of the growing town and the ^*' 
 
 attractions of an opening trade, other things were not for- **■ 
 
 gotten. The first act of the meeting was to provide for 
 
 the collections of money once a month for " ye support of 
 
 ye poor," and the next to consider " selling of rum unto 
 
 Indians," and whether it " be lawful att all for friends 
 
 pfessing truth to be concerned in itt." It has been said 
 
 that the Quaker has never been the friend of education. 
 
 These at least are two honorable truths in the history of 
 
 Burlington: That there, before 1690, William Bradford 
 
 found work and welcome for his printing-press ;| and her 
 
 * Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. i. p. 10. 
 
 t Learning and Spicer's Laws of New Jersey, p. 435; Hazard's 
 Annals of Pennsylvania, vol. i. p. 537. 
 
 ? My authority for this statement was the following: "At A yearly 
 meetinge held at Burlington in west new Jersey the 10th of the 7th 
 month 1C90: An Account beinge giucn heere that seuerall particular 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 287 
 
 people — before William Peiin had ever set foot on Amer- 
 ican soil — commemorated the fifth anniversary of their 
 settlement by consecrating "to the use of the public schools" 
 the broad acres of jNIatiniconk, and have kept them piously 
 devoted to that purpose from that day to this.* 
 
 How fortunate would it have been, my friends of Bur- 
 lington, if the spirit had moved one of these early settlers 
 to have given posterity a sketch of the daily life of the 
 
 friends haue engaged themselues to raise A considerable sum of 
 money for the encouragement of the printer to continue the press 
 heere : it is Agreed that it bee recommend to each quarterly meet- 
 inge belonging to this meetinge." The Hon. John William Wallace, 
 who is an authority on these matters, and lias given especial atten- 
 tion to the life of the printer William Bradford {vide his valuable 
 Address on the subject in New York in May, 1863), has called my 
 attention to the following extract from the Salem Monthly Meeting 
 Minute Book No. 1 : '' whereas in the month Called nouember: 1689: 
 A gratuity was giuen to William bradford printer that bee should 
 continue his press in Philadelphia it being forty pound A yeare fi-om 
 and After the date hereof, for Seuen years;" and adds, "on 5th 
 mo. 2Gth 1689 Bradford, being then in Philada., gaue notice to 
 Friends of his purpose to go to England and got a bene decessit 
 accordingly. Now, by the above extract the meeting in 1689 gave 
 (actually gave, it would seem) a gratuity to Bradford to 'continue' 
 his press in Philadelphia for seven years from that time. We have 
 in 1688 and also in 1693 books printed by him in Philadelphia. In 
 1690 he established a paper-mill on the Wissahickon. It would 
 seem, therefore, that the word ' heere' does not mean here in Bur- 
 lington, but here in America, or hereabouts and within the juris- 
 diction of the Quakers assembled at Burlington." I agree with 
 Mr. Wallace that "this, I fear, hardly makes out the case for our 
 dear old town of Burlington ;" but I leave the passage in the text 
 to stand as spoken, with this correction in a note. The town was 
 not, in all probability, the scene of Bradford's labors, as I thought 
 at the time I said so, but the townsfolk are entitled to the credit 
 which I claimed for them just the same. 
 * Act of Assembly, September 28, 1682. 
 
288 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 young colony ! How delightful to have been able to see, as 
 with the eye of a contemporary, the infant town ! The 
 forest of oak and sassafras, and birch and maple encii'cling 
 the island ; the broad main street cut through the clearing, 
 and but lately freed from stumps ; the clap-board houses 
 beginning to rise on every side ; Samuel Jennings's, on the 
 corner of Pearl Street, the new Governor, " a man of both 
 spiritual and worldly wisdom, a suppressor of vice and an 
 encourager of virtue;"* and Thomas Gardiner's next, 
 where the meetings are held till the new place of worship 
 can be built. It is at one of these, perhaps, that the 
 Labadists dine in 1679, on their way to Tinicum and Up- 
 land. " The Quakers," they write, " are a very worldly 
 people. On the window we found a co])y of Virgil, as if 
 it had been a common hand-book, and Helmont's book on 
 medicine !" How pleasant, too, to walk in imagination 
 along the bank of the newly-surveyed river lots and admire 
 the good ship Shield, as she lies in the stream, moored by 
 a long rope to a leaning buttonwoodf that stands by the 
 water's edge, or watch yonder canoe as it comes swiftly 
 across the river laden with the fat carcass of a noble buck ! 
 The village is full of cheery noise, the constant sound of 
 the hammer and the saw, and every now and then a crash 
 like distant thunder tells of the falling of some giant tree. 
 Now, perhaps, a horn blown from Thomas Gardiner's calls 
 the town-meeting together, to ajipoint ten men to help lay 
 out the town's share of a road through the wilderness to 
 Salem, or four of the proprietors to get to work to drain 
 
 * Robert Proud, quoted by Bowden in his History of Friends. 
 
 t Tradition says tliat tliis is the gigantic tree in front of Gov- 
 ernor Franklin's house (now torn down) about which the "witches 
 used to dance." 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 289 
 
 the meadows, or solemnly resolve " that the townfolk meet 
 at five o'clock the next morning to go and clear the brush 
 upon the island." It may be market day, and here are 
 Indians with venison and turkeys and plenty of wild fruit 
 for sale; or, yonder on a stump, Ollive, the magistrate, 
 holds his rustic court, and, while his neighbors stand rev- 
 erently by, dispenses impartial justice. The Sabbath morn- 
 ing comes to begin the busy week, and the little town is 
 still. The hammer and the saw are laid aside, and the axe 
 rests undisturbed against the tree. All is so quiet that the 
 rustling of the dead leaves can be heard as they fall through 
 the frosty air, and the cawing of the crows as they rise from 
 their roost in the distant pines. No sentinel, with leathern 
 doublet, his matchlock resting in the hollow of his arm, 
 stands guard by yonder house, or watches with suspicious 
 eye, his hand upon his cutlass, the curious savage who 
 walks unbidden to the door. Within is gathered a little 
 company, seated in solemn silence or listening with rapt 
 attention as one of their number, with rude but reverent 
 manner, and perhaps unlettered speech, talks of the Inner 
 Light and of ihe goodness of Him who placed them in the 
 wilderness and protects them there. 
 
 A simple anecdote recorded by a descendant, and, until 
 now, forgotten for a century, is worthy of remembrance :* 
 "Tradition delivers," he says, "that when Thomas Ollive 
 acted in the quadruple character of governor, preacher, 
 tanner, and miller, a customer asked, ' Well, Thomas, when 
 can my corn be ground ?' ' I shall be at the Assembly next 
 
 * My friend Brinton Coxe, Esq., to whom I am under many obli- 
 gations for kind and intelligent assistance in gathering materials, 
 has given me this, which he found in a MS. note written by R. Smith 
 in 1796 on page 573 of his copy of Learning and Spicer. 
 
290 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 Third-day,' replied the good man, ' and I will bring it for 
 thee behind nie on my horse.' " Such were your governors 
 in those early days! O rara temporum simplicitas ! 
 
 What wonder then tliat the seed planted by those hands 
 took root and brought forth fruit an hundred-fold ! What 
 wonder that the strong right arm of men like this conquered 
 the forest and made the wilderness to bloom ! What won- 
 der that as this godly people looked back to those days be- 
 yond the stormy sea their hearts were stirred within them 
 and they cried : " Blessed be the God of Abraham, of Isaac, 
 and of Jacob that has called us not hither in vain !" " He 
 was with us and is with us ; yea, he hath made our way for 
 us and proved and confirmed to us his word and provi- 
 dence !" " The desert sounds ; the wilderness rejoices, a 
 visitation outwardly and inwardly is come to America ; 
 God is Lord of all the earth and at the setting of the sun 
 will his name be famous."* 
 
 My countrymen: Since those words were spoken and 
 this town was built two hundred vears have come and o-one. 
 The seed that could blossom in the dense thickets of New 
 Jersey and find a root among the rocks of Plymouth has 
 planted a continent with liberty and law. The light that 
 glimmered on the Delaware and lit the cold waves of Boston 
 Bay, was but the dawn of that advancing age whose morn- 
 ing beams now shine with imj)artial splendor upon all man- 
 kind. Your fathers' prayers are granted, and their prophecy 
 fulfilled ! Here on the threshold of your history I needs 
 must stop. My task is finished, and my duty done. How 
 could I hope to tell the story of two centuries? How dear 
 old St. Mary's Church was founded in Queen Anne's reign. 
 
 * Letter of Williani Penn and others, 1st month, 1683. Vide 
 Bowden's History of Friends, vol. i. p. 20. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 291 
 
 How in colonial days great men as Governors lived in Bur- 
 lington ; how Council and Assembly met in the now ran- 
 ished court -house, bsfore whose door one day George 
 Whitefield preached ; how, in a darker time, the Plessians 
 camped in a meadow Ijeyond Yorkshire Bridge ; how the 
 Whigs knocked one night at Margaret INIorris's door, and' 
 the Tory parson hid trembling in the " anger hole ;" how 
 ])atriotic gondolas bombarded Burlington, and managed to 
 hit a house at Broad and York Streets ; how, in the follow- 
 ing year, the British in their turn opened the cannonade, 
 and after an hour's fire knocked a hole in Adam Shepherd's 
 stable near the wharf; how things were quiet for a little 
 while till Light- FTorse Harry Lee came thundering in.* 
 
 And what can I hope to say, in the last moments of so 
 long a speech, of the inhabitants of a city whose life has not 
 been more peaceful than her sons illustrious. From the 
 beginning to the end, in times of the Colony, the Province, 
 and State, it has always been the same. Here were the 
 famous printers, Bradford the pioneer, and Isaac Collins, 
 who published the first Jersey newspa])er.f Here dwelt 
 
 * James Craft's Journal, Hist. Mag., vol. i. p. 300, Boston, 1857: 
 " 6th ino. 16th, 1770, Geo. Whitefield, the Great Calvinistic Preacher, 
 . preacht before the Court House. Great Audience. Deal of liumor. 
 12th mo. 1 1th, 1776, sad work this day. The Hessians came. Town 
 fired on by gondolas. Nobody hurt, altho' large and small shot was 
 fired plenty and in all directions. 5th mo. 10, 1778. British came 
 back (from Bordentown) and what a whipping our poor town got, 
 tho' through blessing nobody hurt. Bullets and every kind of shot 
 showered down upon us for hours. 12th mo. 16th, 1778, Lee's troop 
 of horse at Burlington." For an amusing account of Dr. Odell's 
 adventure in the hidden chamber called the "Auger hole," see Dr. 
 Hill's excellent History of the Cliurch in Burlington, p. 321. Vide 
 Barber and Howe's Historical Collection, pp. 94, 95. 
 
 t Of Bradford I have spoken in an earlier note. Isaac Collins was 
 a man of great prominence in the Colony. He was appointed Co- 
 
M 
 
 292 "THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 Judge Daniel Coxe, wlio planned a union for the Colonies 
 full thirty years ere Franklin thought of it, and half a cen- 
 tury before the Revolution.* Here came Elias Boudinot, 
 the President of Congress, to pass the evening of his well- 
 spent life ; and in the spacious garden of his house some 
 of you may have seen his daughter and her friend, those r^ 
 
 venerable women who had borne the names of William h 
 
 Bradford and Alexander Hamilton. f Here, on a Saturday ii 
 
 morning, weary with walking " more than fifty miles," 
 clad " in a working dress," his " pockets stuffed out with 
 shirts and stockings," a boy of seventeen came trudging 
 into town. Nobody noticed him, except to smile perhaps, || 
 
 save an old woman who talked to him kindly and sold him 
 o;ino;erbread. Years afterward he came acrain to i)rint the 
 money of the Province and become the friend of all the 
 great men who dwelt in Burlington, for by that time the 
 world had begun to hear of Benjamin Franklin. | Two 
 
 lonial printer in 1770, and issued the first number of tiie N^civ Jersey 
 Gazette on December 5, 1777. 
 
 * In the preface to his " Description of Carolana, &c., &c.," pub- .7' 
 
 lished in London in 1722. He was the son of Daniel Coxe, of Lon- 
 don, the Proprietary Governor, and was a Judge of the Supreme 
 Court. The Coxe family was long prominent in the history of Bur- 
 lington and West Jersey. 
 
 f Elias Boudinot was President of Congress in 17S2, and Director 
 of the Mint under General Washington's administration. He was 
 the first President, and in conjunction with his friend and kinsman 
 Mr. Wallace, the originator of the American Bible Society. His 
 daughter and only child married the Hon. William Bradford, At- 
 torney-General in Washington's cabinet. Alexander Hamilton had 
 been a friend in the family of Mr. Boudinot in his boyhood, and the 
 colleague of his son-in-law in the cabinet. The friendship between 
 the widows of those two reniarkal)le men, both so untimely cut off 
 in their prime, continued to the end of their long lives. 
 
 X Bigelow's Franklin's Autobiography, pp. 110 and 1G3. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 293 
 
 other boys belong to Burlington. Born side by side^ be- 
 neath adjoining roofs, close to this spot where you are 
 gathered now, both became sailors ; but of different desti- 
 nies. The elder, after a brief but brilliant life, fell in dis- 
 astrous battle on the deck with the immortal cry upon his 
 lips of " Don't give uj) the shij) !" The younger lived to 
 a green and vigorous old age, to make those Jersey names 
 of Fenimore and Coo2)er famous forever in American litera- 
 ture !* Count this array of native or adopted citizens : 
 Ellis and Stockton and Dutton and Sterling and Woolman 
 and the mysterious Tyler; Franklin, the Tory governor, 
 and Temple, his accomplished son; Samuel Smith, the his- 
 torian, and Samuel J. Smith, the poet; William Coxe, the 
 pomologist, and John Griscom, the friend of learning; 
 Shippcn and Cole in medicine, and Dean and the Gum- 
 meres in education ; Bloomfield and Mcllvaine and Wall 
 in politics, and at the bar, Griffith, Wallace, Reed, two gen- 
 erations of the Mcllvaines and four of the name of Kinsey, 
 and those great masters of the law, Charles Chauncey and 
 Horace Binney.t Read the long list of teachers of religion; 
 
 * James Fenimore Cooper in a published letter dated 1844 said : 
 " I was born in the last honse but one of the main street of Burling- 
 ton as one goes into the country. There are two houses of brick 
 stuccoed, built together, the one having five windows in front and 
 the other four, the first being the last house in the street. In this 
 house dwelt Mr. Lawrence, my old commander. Captain Lawrence's 
 father, and in the four-window house my father." 
 
 f Charles Ellis, Samuel Stockton, and Thomas Dutton were prom- 
 inent citizens in Burlington half a century ago ; the latter in connec- 
 tion with John Griscom, LL.D,, W. R. Allen, and Thomas Milnor, 
 was active in founding the Public Schools, and the names of all of 
 them are honorably borne in Burlington to-day. James Sterling was 
 a famous merchant — his store at the corner of Broad and Main Streets 
 was known from Sussex to Cape May. James Hunter Sterling is 
 
294 '^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 I name tlie dead alone — Grellefc and Cox and Hoskins 
 and Mott and Dillwyn among Friends, and in the Churcii 
 
 remembered as the benefactor of the Library, to whom we owe the 
 handsome building. Richard Tyler was an accomplished English- 
 man of wealth and evidently of rank, who settled in Burlington early 
 in this century. There was some mystery about his life which has 
 never been solved. It has been conjectured that he was a relative 
 of Warren Hastings. John Woolman, the famous Quaker preacher, 
 was a Burlington County man, and the name has existed there for 
 the past two centuries; the late Burr Woolman and his son Frank- 
 lin Woolman, Esq., have both been Surveyor-Generals of AVest Jer- 
 sey. Governor William Franklin lived in the large house on the 
 bank afterward occupied by Charles Chauncey as a summer resi- 
 dence, and torn down in 1873. Ilis son. Temple, lived in elegant 
 retirement with his books, and died at Franklin Park on the Kan- 
 cocas, about six miles out of town. Samuel Smith, the historian, was 
 long Treasurer of the Province. A notice of him has recently appeared 
 as a preface to a second edition of his history, published in 1877, and 
 an interesting paper on this subject of Samuel J. Smith and his 
 writings can be found at page 39 of vol. ix. of the Proceedings of 
 the New Jersey Historical Society. Both are by John Jay Smith, 
 Esq. Dr. William Coxe was quite famous as a pomologist about the 
 beginning of this century, and Griscom's Travels was a noted and 
 much read book. Dr. Edward Siiippen lived many years in the house 
 occupied for nearly fifty years by the late Joseph Askew in Ellis 
 Street at the end of Broad. Dr. Nathaniel W. Cole was an excellent 
 citizen and a physician of great skill and experience. James Dean, 
 LL.D., Professor of Mathematics in Vermont University ; John Gum- 
 mere, the author of works on Astronomy, Surveying, etc., and Samuel 
 R. Gummere, of others on Oratory, Geography, etc., are honored 
 names in the history of Education. "Guuniiere's schools" had a 
 famous reputation foi'ty years ago. Joseph Bioomfield, a soldier of 
 the Revolution and long Governor of the State, lived in the large 
 house on Main Street known by his name. Joseph Mcllvaine was 
 United States Senator in 1820, Garret D. Wall in 1834, and liis son 
 James W. Wall in 1800. William Griffith was a most accomplished 
 lawyer and stood at the head of the bar. He Avas one of John 
 Adams's " Midnight Judges ;" Joshua Maddox Wallace, also at one 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 295 
 
 Talbot, the missionary, the witty Odell, tlie venerable 
 Wharton, the saintlike Mcllvaine, and that princely prelate 
 — the most imposing figure of my boyish memories — 
 
 time Judge of the Pleas of Burlington County, was a very distin- 
 guished man, the co-worker of Mr. Boudinot in the Bible Society. 
 He was the father of another well-known lawyer, John B. Wallace, 
 and the grandfather of two others whose names are prominent in 
 American legal literature — John William Wallace, lately the Reporter 
 of the United States Supreme Court, and Horace Binney Wallace. 
 Bowes Reed was a brother of General Joseph Reed, Washington's 
 Aide-de-Camp. Joseph McHvaine, the Senator, was also distinguished 
 at the Bar and the father of Bloomfield Mcllvaine, whose early death 
 alone prevented his taking the front rank in the yirofession. The 
 Kinsey family has been remarkable in the law. John Kinsey, the 
 son of the first-comer, was noted in provincial history as a leader of 
 the profession ; John Kinsey, his son, was Chief Justice of Pennsyl- 
 vania and died in 1750 ; Jauies Kinsey, his grandson, was Chief Jus- 
 tice of New Jersey, and the late Charles Kinsey, his great-grandson, 
 was an eminent and learned lawyer. Mr. Chauncey and Mr. Binney 
 lived for many summers side by side on the bank, the latter at the 
 corner of Wood Street, in the house owned by the late Edward B, 
 Grubb. 
 
 There are many other names which one might speak of and which 
 ought to be remembered ; Samuel Emien, Elihu Chauncey, who lived 
 where the College stands to-day, Charles Read, Judge of Admiralty 
 before the Revolution, and AndrcAV Allen the grandson of Chief- 
 Justice Allen, "a most accomplished man," at one time British 
 Consul at Boston, but after 1812 a resident of Burlington, in the 
 house where St. Mary's Hall was afterwards erected, were all men 
 whose names ought not to be forgotten. Barbaroux and Benoist 
 were Frenchmen of family and fortune who settled in Burlington 
 after the troubles in San Domingo. Both of these families lived on 
 the bank. Juhn Michael ILanckel was the Principal of the Academy : 
 " His talents," said Rev. Dr. Wharton in his epitaph, "were of the 
 first order." He died at twenty-nine. In an humbler walk in life 
 were Thomas Aikman, the Sexton and Undertaker, Ben Shepherd, 
 and Captain Jacob Myers of the "Mayflower," a well-known char- 
 acter. 
 
29G ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 
 
 whose tongue alone could have done justice to this anni- 
 versary !* 
 
 Now as I sj)eak of them under the inspiration of these 
 memories I seem to feel the touch of vanished hands and 
 hear the sound of voices that are still. Before me rise the 
 scenes of other days. I see the brilliant Wall ; tlie rough 
 and ready Engle ; the venerable Grellet ; Allen, your Mayor 
 for quarter of a century ; the little form, too small for such 
 a heart, of William Allinson ; the white head of Thomas 
 Milnor; the well-beloved face of Cortlandt Van Rens- 
 
 * John Cox, John Iloskins, Richard Mott, and George Dlllwyn 
 were eminent as preachers. Stephen Grellet had an extraordinary 
 life; born a nobleman, he escaped from France during the terrors of 
 1793 and became a Missionary among Friends. Vide his life, pub- 
 lished by Benjamin Seebohn, London. He was a man of excellent 
 talents, and great purity and benevolence. Dr. Hill's boL.k, to 
 which I have referred before, contains the best account of Talbot, 
 Odell, and Wharton. The Rt. Rev. Charles Pettit Mcllvaine, D.D., 
 LL.D., D.C.L., Bishop of Ohio, was certainly one of the most distin- 
 guished prelates in the Episcopal Church. He was born at the 
 northwest corner of Broad and Main Streets. His father, the Sen- 
 ator, was a son of Colonel Joseph Mcllvaine of the Revolution; 
 His wife was a daughter of Dr. William Coxe. I cannot condense 
 into a note any expression which would convey to those who never 
 knew him the place which Bishop Doane filled in Burlington between 
 1840 and 1859. Riverside was an Episcopal palace, filled always 
 with distinguished men from home and abroad, among whom the 
 host was an acknowledged chief. Burlington College was in the 
 beginning of an apparently flourishing life. St. Mary's Hall was a 
 successful institution. St. Marj'^s was the cathedral church of the 
 Diocese, and on every occasion, ecclesiastical, collegiate, social, polit- 
 ical, on Commencement Day, at Christmas, on the Fourth of July, the 
 Bishop was a prominent and attractive figure. I shall never forget 
 the wondering admiration with which I used to look at him ; and 
 the fascination of his manner — for no one had the gift of charming 
 the young more than he — lingers with ine still. 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 297 
 
 selaer; and tlie splendid countenance and manly form of 
 him — the friend of many here — whose name I dare not trust 
 myself to speak ! And you, too — friends of my boyhood's 
 days, whom death has crowned with an immortal youth — 
 you, young defenders of my country's honor — Grubb, 
 Chase, Barclay, Baquet, and Van Rensselaer — on such a 
 day as this you, too, shall be remembered!* 
 
 * These names need no explanatory note to-day, but I must not 
 forget that a generation is rapidly approaching to whom they will 
 seem as shadowy as do to me most of those which I have mentioned 
 in the preceding paragraph. James W. Wall, often the candidate 
 of his party for Congress and a Senator for a short time in 1860, 
 was a man of brilliant talents, a witty poet, a graceful writer, and 
 an orator of no little power. Frederick Engle, who died a Rear 
 Admiral of the United States Navy, was a gallant and distinguished 
 sailor. Of the venerable and excellent Grellet I have already spoken ; 
 he lived in Main Street, next the alley called Library Street, opposite 
 Governor Bloomfield's. When it was known that perhaps " Friend 
 Grellet would preach," there were many of the world's people at 
 meeting. I have heard him, and recall a tall slender figure speak- 
 ing with strong French accent, and with French rather than Quaker 
 warmth and vehemence. William II. Allen was a strong man in every 
 sense; he made himself felt in the community in many ways. The 
 name of AUinson is honorably remembered. David Allinson was 
 a publisher and Samuel a brewer; William J. was a druggist and 
 apothecary •, he was active in all that concerned the good of Bur- 
 lington, and was a great benefactor of the Library and other institu- 
 tions. He had much literary taste, and great antiquarian knowledge 
 and zeal. Thomas Milnor was another excellent man, whose name 
 should not be forgotten. Of the Rev. Dr. Cortlandt Van Rensselaer 
 all Burlingtonians have pleasant memories. His activity in all 
 good works outside of his church, of which he may be called the 
 founder, as well as in it, endeared him greatly to the community. 
 He was a very distinguished minister in the Presbyterian Church, 
 and a man of great learning and culture. Frederick Brown of 
 Philadelphia built his house called " Summer Home" in 1847, and 
 made it his place of refuge from the cares of an active life, as labor- 
 
 20 
 
298 
 
 THE SETTLEMENT OE BURLINGTON. 
 
 My countrymen : The age that saw the birth of Burling- 
 ton has passed away. The passions that raged about her 
 cradle have long been dead. The furies of contending 
 creeds have been forgotten, and Quaker and Presbyterian, 
 Churchman and Catholic, rest in her bosom side by side. 
 The twin sycamores by yonder meeting-house stand guard 
 above a soil enriched witli the bones of six generations of 
 your kindred, and the spire of old St. Mary's springs from 
 a doubly consecrated mould. The tree, the ancient church, 
 the pleasant field, the flowing river — these shall endure, but 
 you shall pass away. The lifeless thing shall live and the 
 deathless die. It is God's mystery; we cannot solve it. 
 
 ions as it was singularly useful, until his death in 1864. Here were 
 the extensive graperies filled with well-selected vines, the orchards 
 of dwarf pears, the rare plants and flowers, and the choice trees in 
 which he took such genuine delight and which must ever be asso- 
 ciated in his children's minds with the memories of a perfectly happy 
 
 childhood. 
 
 "Ille te mecum Jocus et beatae 
 Postulant arces ; ibi tu calentem 
 Debita sparges lacrima favillam 
 PatHa amici." 
 
 There are other names which ought to be remembered on such 
 anniversaries, but those of Isaac Parker Grubb, Richard Chase, 
 Mark Wilkes Collet Barclay, Francis Baquet, and Cortlaiidt Van 
 Kensselaer, Jr., I love especially to recall. They all died in the 
 active service of their country during the Rebellion. Three of 
 them " with their bodies bore the brunt of battle, and after a short 
 and quickly decided crisis of tlieir fate, at the height of glory, not 
 of fear, yielded up their lives !" Of all it is true that, in those other 
 words of Pericles, "they laid down their bodies and their lives for 
 their country, and therefore as their private reward they receive a 
 deathless fame and the noblest of sepulchres, not so much that in 
 which their bones are entombed as that in which their glory is pre- 
 served to be had in eveidasting remembrance on all occasions, whether 
 of speech or action." 
 
THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 299 
 
 That change that has come to all must come to you — and 
 long before this story shall be told again, you will have fol- 
 lowed the footsteps of your fathers. But still on the banks 
 of Delaware shall stand your ancient town. Time shall 
 not harm her nor age destroy the beauty of her face. 
 Wealth may not come to her, nor power, nor fame among 
 the cities of the earth ; but civil freedom and liberty of 
 conscience are now her children's birthright, and she rests 
 content. Happy, indeed, if they can exclaim, with each 
 recurring anniversary, as their fathers did two hundred 
 years ago : " We are a family at peace within ourselves !"* 
 
 * Wrote William Penn and others in the 1st month (March), 1683 : 
 "Dear friends and brethren, we have no cause to murmur; our lot 
 is fiillen every vray in a good place, and the Son of God is among 
 us. We are a family at peace within ourselves, and truly great is 
 our joy therefore." I add an amusing quotation from old Gabriel 
 Thomas. Writing in 1698 he says: "Of Laioyers and Physicians 
 I shall say nothing, because this Country is very Peaceable and 
 Healthy ; long may it so continue and never have occasion for the 
 Tongue of the one, nor the Pen of the other, both equally destruc- 
 tive to Men's Estates and Lives ; besides forsooth they, Ilang-Man 
 like, have a License to Murder and Make Mischief." 
 
p 
 
 ¥ 
 
ORATION 
 
 AT 
 
 VALLEY FORGE, 
 
 June 19, 1878, 
 
 THE ONE HUNDKEDTH ANNIVERSAEY OF THE DE- 
 
 PAETUKE OF THE AEMY OF THE EEVOLUTION 
 
 FEOM WINTEE QUAETEES AT THAT PLACE. 
 
i 
 
 
ORATION. 
 
 It is an honor to be here to-daj. It is a privilege to 
 behold this anniversary. This unusual spectacle, tliese 
 solemn services, these flags and decorations, this tuneful 
 choir, this military array, this distinguished company, this 
 multitude darkening all the hillside, proclaim the general 
 interest and attest its magnitude. And it is proper to 
 commemorate this time. One hundred vears ag-o this 
 country was the scene of extraordinary events and very 
 honorable actions. We feel the influence of them in our 
 institutions and our daily lives, and it is both natural and 
 right for us to seek, by some means, to mark their hun- 
 dredth anniversaries. Those moments are passing quickly. 
 Lexinf>;ton, Bunker Hill, Germantown, Sarat02;a, have o-oue 
 by already. Monmouth, Stony Point, Eutaw, and York- 
 town are close at hand. It is eminently fit that we should 
 gather here. 
 
 I cannot add to what has already been said about this 
 place. The deeds which have made it famous have jiassed 
 into history. The page on which they are recorded is 
 written. We can neither add' to it nor take away. The 
 heroic dead who suffered here are far beyond our reach. 
 No human eulogy can make their gh)ry greater, no failure 
 to do them justice make it less. Theirs is a perfect fame 
 — safe, certain, and complete. Their trials here secured 
 the happiness of a continent; their labors have borne fruit 
 
 303 
 
304 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 in the free institutions of a powerful nation ; their examples 
 give hope to every race and dime; their names live on the 
 lips of a grateful people; their memory is cherished in 
 their children's hearts and shall endure forever. It is not 
 for their sakes then, but for our own, that we have assem- 
 bled here to-day. This anniversary, if I understand it 
 right, has a purpose of its own. It is duty that has brought 
 us here. The spirit appropriate to this hour is one of 
 humility rather than of pride, of reverence ratlier than of 
 exultation. We come, it is true, the representatives of 
 forty millions of free men by ways our fathers never * 
 
 dreamed of, from regions of which they never heard. We 
 come in the midst of plenty, under a sky of peace, power 
 in our right hand and the keys of knowledge in our left. 
 But we are here to learn rather than to teach ; to worship, 
 not to glorify. We come to contemplate the sources of our 
 country's greatness; to commune with the honored past; 
 to remind ourselves, and show our children that Joy can 
 come out of Sorrow, Ha])piness out of Suffering, Light out 
 of Darkness, Life out of Death. 
 
 Such is the meaning of this anniversary. I cannot do 
 it justice. Would that there could come to some one in 
 this multitude a tongue of fire — an inspiration born of the 
 time itself, that, standing in this place and speaking with 
 the voice of olden time, he might tell us in fitting language 
 of our fathers ! But it cannot be. Not even now — not 
 even here. Perhaps we do not need it. Some of us bear 
 their blood, and all alike enjoy the happiness their valor 
 and endurance won. And if my voice be feeble, we have 
 but to look around. The hills that saw them suffer look 
 down on us; the ground that thrilled beneath their feet we 
 tread to-day ; their unmarked graves still lie in yonder 
 field ; the breastworks which they built to shelter them 
 
VALLEy FOROE. 305 
 
 surround us here ! Dumb witnesses of the heroic past, ye 
 need no tongues ! Face to face with you we see it all : — 
 this soft breeze changes to an icy blast; these trees drop 
 the glory of the summer, and the earth beneath our feet is 
 wrapped in snow. Beside us is a village of log huts — 
 along that ridge smoulder the fires of a camp. The sun 
 has sunk, the stars glitter in the inky sky, the camp is 
 hushed, the fires are out, the night is still. All are in 
 slumber save when a lamp glimmers in a cottage window, 
 and a passing shadow shows a tall figure pacing to and fro. 
 The cold silence is unbroken save when on yonder rampart, 
 crunching the crisp snow with wounded feet, a ragged 
 sentinel keeps watch for Liberty ! 
 
 The close of 1777 marked the gloomiest period of the 
 Revolution. The early enthusiasm of the struggle had 
 passed away. The doubts which the first excitements 
 banished had returned. The novelty of war had gone, and 
 its terrors become awfully familiar. Fire and sword had 
 devastated some of the best parts of the country, its cities 
 were half ruined, its fields laid waste, its resources drained, 
 its best blood poured out in sacrifice. The struggle now had 
 become one of endurance, and while Liberty and Independ- 
 ence seemed as far off as ever, men began to appreciate the 
 tremendous cost at which they were to be purchased. The 
 capture of Burgoyne had, after all, been only a temporary 
 check to a powerful and still unexhausted enemy.* Nor 
 
 * Such at least was the opinion of Lafayette (Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 34 
 and 35). A friend to whom Mr. Brown read this oration, pointed out 
 the fact that the capture of Bur^oyne's army had been considered 
 by all the latest and most accurate historians as the undoubted turn- 
 ing-point of the war, and that Creasy had included the battle of 
 Behmus's Heights in the fifteen decisive battles of the tvorld. Mr. 
 Brown said that although it had undoubtedly proved so, he felt 
 
306 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 \vas its effect on the Americans themselves wholly beneficial. 
 It had caused the North to relax, in a great measure, its 
 activity and vigilance, and, combined with the immunity 
 from invasion which the South had enjoyed, "to lull asleep 
 two-thirds of the continent." While a few hundred ill- 
 armed, half-clad Americans guarded the Highlands of the 
 Hudson, a well-equipped garrison, several thousand strong, 
 lived in luxury in the city of New York.* The British 
 fleet watched with the eyes of Argus the rebel coast. 
 Rhode Island lay undisputed in their hands ; Georgia, 
 Virginia, and the Carol inas were open to their invasion, 
 and as incapable of defence as Maryland had been when 
 they landed in the Chesapeake. Drawn upon for the army, 
 the sparse population could not half till the soil, and the 
 savings of laborious years had all been spent. While the 
 miserable paper currency which Congress, with a fatal folly 
 never to be absent from the counsels of men, continued to 
 issue and call money, obeyed natural rather than artificial 
 laws and fell four hundred per cent., coin flowed to Phila- 
 delphia and New York, and in spite of military orders and 
 civil edicts, the scanty produce of the country followed it. 
 Nor could the threatened penalty of death restrain the evil. 
 Want began to be widely felt, and the frequent proclama- 
 tions of the British, accompanied with Tory intrigue and 
 abundant gold, to have effect. To some, even of the wisest, 
 
 that in picturing the feeling of the day he was justified in using the 
 impression left on the mind of so distinguished an actor as Lafay- 
 ette ; but that, when the oration was printed, he would add a note 
 that would protect him from any criticism prompted by the suppo- 
 sition, that biased by local prejudice, he had spoken lightly of a 
 brilliant event which occurred in a neighboring State, in order to 
 give prominence to the trials of Valley Forge. — Ed. 
 * Vide Lafayette's Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 34 and 35. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 307 
 
 the case was desperate. Even the elements seemed to com- 
 bine against the cause. A dehige prevented a battle at the 
 Warren Tavern ; a fog robbed Washington of victory at 
 Germantown ; and at last, while the fate of America hung 
 on the courage, the fortitude, and the patriotism of eleven 
 thousand half-clothed, half-armed, hungry Continentals, 
 who, discomforted but not discouraged, beaten but not dis- 
 heartened, suffering but steadfast still, lay on their firelocks 
 on the frozen ridges of Whitemarsh, a British army, nine- 
 teen thousand five hundred strong, of veteran troops, per- 
 fectly equipped, freshly recruited from Europe, and flushed 
 with recent victory, marched into winter quarters in the 
 chief city of the nation. 
 
 Philadelphia surely had never seen such gloomy days as 
 those which preceded the entry of the British. On the 
 24th of August the American army marched through the 
 length of Front Street;* on the 25th the British landed at 
 the Head of Elk. Days of quiet anxiety ensued. On 
 the 11th of September, as Tom Paine was writing a letter 
 to Dr. Franklin, the sound of cannon in the southwest in- 
 terrupted him.f From morning until late in the afternoon 
 people in the streets listened to the dull sound like distant 
 thunder.| About six o'clock it died away, and the straining 
 ear could catch nothino; but the soughing of the wind. 
 With what anxiety men waited — with what suspense ! 
 The sun sank in the west, and the shadows crept over the 
 little city. It was the universal hour for the evening meal, 
 but who could go home to eat ? Men gathered about the 
 State House to talk, to conjecture, to consult together, and 
 
 * Saffell's Records of the Revolutionary War, p. 333. 
 
 f Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. ii. p. 283. 
 
 J Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. ii. p. 283, 
 
308 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 the women whispered in little groups at the doorsteps, and 
 craned their necks out of the darkened windows to look 
 nervously up and down the street. About eight o'clock 
 there was a little tumult near the Coffee House. The story- 
 spread that Washington had gained a victory,* and a few 
 lads set up a cheer. But it was not traced to good authority, 
 and disappointment followed. By nine in the evening the 
 suspense was painful. Suddenly, far up Chestnut Street, 
 was heard the clatter of horses' feet. Some one was gal- 
 loping hard. Down Chestnut like an arrow came at full 
 speed a single horseman. He had ridden fast, and his 
 horse was splashed with foam. Hearts beat quickly as 
 he dashed by; past Sixth Street, past the State House, 
 past Fifth, and round the corner into Fourth. The crowd 
 followed, and instantly packed around him as he drew rein 
 at the Indian Queen. f He threw a glance at the earnest 
 faces that were turned toward his, and spoke : " A battle 
 has been fought at the Birmingham Meeting-House, on 
 the Brandy wine ; the army has been beaten ; the French 
 Marquis Lafayette shot through the leg. His Excellency 
 has fallen back to Chester ; the road below is full of 
 stragglers." And then the crowd scattered, each one to 
 his home, but not to sleep. A few days followed full of 
 contradictory stories. The armies are manoeuvring on the 
 Lancaster Road. Surely Washington will fight another 
 battle. And then the news came and spread like lightning 
 — Wayne has been surprised and his brigade massacred 
 at the Paoli, and the enemy are in full march for Phila- 
 delphia ; the Whigs are leaving by hundreds ; the author- 
 ities are going ; the Congress have gone ; the British have 
 
 * Irving's Washington, vol. iii. p. 202. 
 f Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 283. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 309 
 
 arrived at Germantown.* Who can forget the day that 
 followed ? 
 
 A sense of something dreadful about to happen hangs 
 over the town. A third of the houses are shut and empty. 
 Shops are unopened, and busy rumor flies about the streets. 
 Early in the morning the sidewalks are filled with a quiet, 
 anxious crowd. The women watch behind bowed Avindows 
 with half curious, half frightened looks. The men, solemn 
 and subdued, whisper in groups : "Will they come to-day?" 
 " Are they here already ?" " Will they treat us like a con- 
 quered people?" It was inevitable since the hot-bloods 
 would have war. Sometimes the Tory can be detected by 
 an exultant look, but the general sentiment is gloomy.f 
 The morning drags along. By ten o'clock Second Street 
 from Callowhill to Chestnut, is filled with old men and 
 boys. There is hardly a young man to be seen. About 
 eleven! is heard the sound of approaching cavalry, and a 
 squadron of dragoons comes galloping down the street, 
 scattering the boys right and left. The crowd parts to let 
 them by, and melts together again. In a few minutes far 
 up the street there is the faint sound of martial music and 
 something moving that glitters in the sunlight. The crowd 
 thickens, and is full of hushed expectation. Presently one 
 can see a red mass swaying to and fro. It becomes more 
 and more distinct. Louder grows the music and the tramp 
 of marching men, as waves of scarlet, tipped with steel, 
 come moving down the street. They are now but a square 
 off — their bayonets glancing in perfect line, and steadily 
 advancing to the music of " God Save the King."§ 
 
 * Miller's Diary, given in Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 68. 
 t Morton's Diary, Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. i. p. 8. 
 t Ibid., p. 7. 
 ^ Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 315. 
 
310 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 These are the famous grenadiers. Their pointed caps of 
 red, fronted with silver, their white leather leggins and 
 short scarlet coats, trimmed with blue, make a magnificent 
 display. They are perfectly equipped and look well fed 
 and hearty.* Behind them are more cavalry. No, these 
 must be officers. The first one is splendidly mounted and 
 wears the uniform of a general. He is a stout man with 
 gray hair and a pleasant countenance,t in spite of the squint 
 of an eye which disfigures it. A whisper goes through the 
 bystanders : " It is Lord Cornwallis himself." A brilliant 
 staff in various uniforms follows him, and fiv^e men in 
 civilian's dress. A glance of recognition follows these last 
 like a wave along the street, for they are Joseph Galloway, 
 Enoch Story, Tench Coxe, and the two Aliens — father and 
 son — Tories, who have only dared to return home behind 
 British bayonets. J Long lines of red coats follow till the 
 Fourth, the Fortieth, and the Fifty-fifth regiments have 
 passed by. But who are these in dark blue that come be- 
 hind tiic grenadiers? Breeches of yellow leather, leggins 
 of black, and tall, pointed hats of brass, complete their uni- 
 form. They wear moustaches and have a fierce foreign 
 look, and their unfamiliar music seems to a child in that 
 crowd to cry " Plunder ! plunder ! plunder !" as it times > 
 
 their rapid march. § These are the Hessian mercenaries 
 whom Washington surprised and thrashed so well at 
 Christmas in '76. And now Grenadiers and Yagers, horse, 
 foot, and artillery that rumbles along making the windows 
 
 * Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 284. f Ibid., p. 289. 
 
 J It lias been said that with others Tench Coxe went out to meet 
 Howe to ask him to protect the city. His conduct, liowever, was 
 such that he was attainted of treason, and it is also true that he 
 surrendered himself and was acquitted. — Ed. 
 
 § Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 283. 
 
VALLEF FORGE. 311 
 
 rattle, have all passed by. The Fifteenth Regiment is 
 drawn up on High Street, near Fifth ; the Forty-second 
 Highlanders in Chestnut, below Third, and the artillery is 
 parked in the State House yard.* All the afternoon the 
 streets are full — wagons with luggage lumbering along, 
 officers in scarlet riding to and fro, aids and orderlies seek- 
 ing quarters for their diflPerent officers. Yonder swarthy, 
 haughty-looking man, dismounting at Norris's door, is my 
 Lord Rawdon. Lord Cornwallis is quartered at Peter 
 Reeve's in Second, near Spruce, and Knyphauscn at 
 Henry Lisle's, nearer to Dock Street, on the east. The 
 younger officers are well bestowed, for Dr. Franklin's 
 house has been taken by a certain clever Captain Andre.f 
 The time for the evening parade comes, and the well- 
 equipped regiments are drawn up in line, while slowly to 
 the strains of martial music the sun sinks in autumnal 
 splendor in the west. The streets are soon in shadow, but 
 still noisy with the tramping of soldiers and the clatter of 
 arms. In High Street, and on the commons, fires are lit 
 for the troops to do their cooking, and the noises of the 
 camp mingle with the city's hum. Most of the houses are 
 shut, but here and there one stands wide 0j)en, while bril- 
 liantly-dressed officers lounge at the windows or pass and 
 repass in the doorway. The sound of laughter and music 
 is heard and the brightly-lit windows of the London Coffee 
 House and the Indian Queen tell of the parties that are 
 celebrating there the event they think so glorious ; and thus, 
 amid sounds of revelry, the night falls on the Quaker City. 
 In spite of Trenton and Princeton and Brandy wine; in 
 spite of the wisdom of Congress and the courage and skill 
 of the commander-in-chief; in spite of the bravery and 
 
 * Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 287. f H^i'l-i P- -^9- 
 
312 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 fortitude of the Continental army, the forces of the king 
 are in the Rebel capital, and the "all's well" of hostile 
 sentinels keeping guard by her northern border passes 
 unchallenged from the Schuylkill to the Delaware. 
 
 What matters it to Sir William Howe and his victorious 
 army if rebels be starving and their ragged currency be 
 almost worthless ? Here is gold and plenty of good cheer. 
 What, whether they threaten to attack the British lines or 
 disperse through the impoverished country in search of 
 food ? The ten redoubts that stretch from Fairmount to 
 Cohocsink Creek are stout and strongly manned, the river 
 is open, and supplies and reinforcements are on the way 
 from England. What if the earth be wrinkled with frost? 
 The houses of Philadelphia are snug and warm. What if 
 the rigorous winter have begun and snow be whitening the 
 hills? Here are mirth and music, and dancing and wine, 
 and women and play, and the pageants of a riotous capital ! 
 And so with feasting and with revelry let the winter wear 
 away ! 
 
 The wind is cold and piercing on the old Gulf Road, and 
 the snow-flakes have begun to fall. Who is this that toils 
 up yonder hill, his footsteps stained with blood ? " His 
 bare feet peep through his worn-out shoes, his legs nearly 
 naked from the tattered remains of an only pair of stock- 
 ings, his breeches not enough to cover his nakedness, his 
 shirt hanging in strings, his hair dishevelled, his face wan 
 and thin, his look hungry, his whole appearance that of a 
 man forsaken and neglected."* On his shoulder he carries 
 a rusty gun,f and the hand that grasps the stock is blue with 
 
 * Diary of Albigence Waldo, kept at Valley Forge. Historical 
 Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. 
 
 t Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 117. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 313 
 
 cold. TTis comrade is no better off, nor he who follows, for 
 both are barefoot, and the ruts of the rough country road 
 are deep and frozen hard. A fourth comes into view, and 
 still another. A dozen are in sight. Twenty have reached 
 the ridge, and there are more to come. See them as they 
 mount the hill that slopes eastward into the Great Valley. 
 A thousand are in sight, but they are but the vanguard of 
 the motley company that winds down the road until it is 
 lost in the cloud of snow-flakes that have hidden the Gulf 
 hills. Yonder are horsemen in tattered uniforms, and be- 
 hind them cannon lumbering slowly over the frozen road, 
 half dragged, half pushed by men. They who appear to 
 be in authority have coats of every make and color. Here 
 is one in a faded blue, faced with buckskin that has once 
 been buff. There is another on a tall, gaunt horse, wrapped 
 " in a sort of dressing-gown made of an old blanket or 
 woollen bed cover."* A few of the men wear long linen 
 hunting shirts reaching to the knee, but of the rest no two 
 are dressed alike — not half have shirts, a third are barefoot, 
 many are in rags.f Nor are their arms the same. Cow- 
 horns and tin boxes they carry for want of pouches. A 
 few have swords, fewer still bayonets.| Muskets, carbines, 
 fowling-pieces, and rifles are to be seen together side by side. 
 Are these soldiers that huddle together and bow their 
 heads as they face tlie biting wind ? Is this an army that 
 comes straggling through the valley in the blinding snow ? 
 No martial music leads them in triumph into a captured 
 capital. No city full of good cheer and warm and comfort- 
 able homes awaits their coming. No sound keeps time to 
 their steps save the icy wind rattling the leafless branches 
 
 * Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 118. 
 t Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 19. 
 X Life of Steuben, p. 118. 
 21 
 
;314 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 and tlie dull tread of their weary feet on the frozen ground. 
 In yonder forest must they find their shelter, and on the 
 northern slope of these inhospitable hills their place of 
 refuge. Perils shall soon assault them more threatening 
 than any they encountered under the windows of Chew's 
 house or by the banks of Brandywine. Trials that rarely 
 have failed to break the fortitude of men await them here. 
 False friends sliall endeavor to undermine their virtue and 
 secret enemies to shake their faith ; the Congress whom 
 they serve shall prove helpless to protect them, and their 
 country herself seem unmindful of their sufferings ; Cold 
 shall share their habitations, and Hunger enter in and be 
 their constant guest; Disease shall infest their huts by day, 
 and Famine stand guard with them through the night; Frost 
 shall lock their camp with icy fetters, and the snows cover 
 it as with a garment ; the storms of winter shall be pitiless 
 — but all in vain. Danger shall not frighten nor tempta- 
 tion have power to seduce them. Doubt shall not shake 
 their love of country nor suffering overcome their fortitude. 
 The powers of evil shall not prevail against them, for they 
 are the Continental Army, and these are the hills of Valley 
 Forge ! 
 
 It is not easy to-day to imagine this country as it appeared 
 a century ago. Yonder city, which now contains one-fourth 
 as many inhabitants as were found in those days between 
 Maine and Georgia, was a town of but thirty thousand men, 
 and at the same time the chief city of the continent. The 
 richness of the soil around it had early attracted settlers, 
 and the farmers of the Great Valley had begun to make that 
 country the garden which it is to-day ; but from the top of 
 this hill one could still behold the wilderness under cover 
 of which, but twenty years before, the Indian had spread 
 havoc throuo-h the back settlements on the Lehigh and the 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 315 
 
 Susquehanna. The most important place between the Latter 
 river and the site of Fort Pitt, "at the junction of the 
 Ohio," was the frontier village of York, where Congress 
 had taken refuge. The single road which connected Phila- 
 delphia with the Western country had been cut through the 
 forest to Harris's Block House but forty years before. It 
 was half a century only since its iron ore had led to the 
 settlement of Lancaster, and little more than a quarter since 
 a single house had marked the site of Reading. The ruins 
 of Colonel Bull's plantation, burned by the British on their 
 march, lay in solitude on the hills which are covered to-day 
 with the roofs and spires of Norristown ;* and where yonder 
 cloud hangs over the furnaces and foundries of Phcenix- 
 ville, a man named Gordon, living in a cave, gave his name 
 to a crossing of the river.f Nor was this spot itself the 
 same. A few small houses clustered about Potts's Forge, 
 where the creek tumbled into the Schuylkill, and two or 
 three near the river bank marked the beginning of a little 
 farm. The axe had cleared much of the bottom lands and 
 fertile fields of the Great Valley, but these hills were still 
 wrapped in forest that covered their sides as far as the eye 
 could reach. The roads that ascended their rido^e on the 
 south and east plunged into densest woods as they climbed 
 the hill, and met beneath its shadow at tlie same spot where 
 to-day a school-house stands in the midst of smiling fields. 
 It is no wonder that the Baron De Kalb, as he gazed on 
 the forest of oak and chestnut that covered the sides and 
 summit of Mount Joy, should have described the place 
 bitterly as " a Avilderness."| 
 
 * Historical Collections of Pennsylvania, by Sherman Day, p. 499. 
 
 t Annals of Phoenixville, by S. W. Pennypacker, p. 174. 
 
 X Life of General Baron De Kalb, by Frederick Kapp, p, 128. 
 
316 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 But nevertheless it was well chosen. There was no town 
 that would answer. Wilmington and Trenton would have 
 afforded shelter, but in the one the army would have been 
 useless, and in the other in constant danger. Reading and 
 Lancaster were so distant tliat the choice of either would 
 liave left a large district open to the enemy, and both, in 
 which were valuable stores, could be better covered by an 
 army here. Equally distant with Philadelphia from the 
 fords of Brandy wine and the ferry into Jersey, the army 
 could move to either point as rapidly as the British them- 
 selves, and while distant enough from the city to be safe 
 from surprise or sudden attack itself, it could protect the 
 country that lay between, and at the same time be a constant 
 menace to the capital. Strategically, then, the General could 
 not have chosen better. And the place was well adapted 
 for the purpose. The Schuylkill, flowing from the Blue 
 Hills, bent here toward the eastward. Its current was 
 rapid, and its banks precipitous. The Valley Creek, cut- 
 ting its way through a deep defile at right angles to the 
 river, formed a natural boundary on the west. The hill 
 called Mount Joy, at the entrance of that defile, threw out 
 a spur which, running parallel to the river about a mile, 
 turned at length northward and met its banks. On the one 
 side tills ridge enclosed a rolling table land; on the other it 
 sloped sharply to the Great Valley. The engineers under 
 Du Portail marked out a line of entrenchments four feet 
 high, protected by a ditch six feet wide, from the entrance of 
 the Valley Creek defile, along the crest of this ridge until 
 it joined the bank of the Schuylkill, where a redoubt marked 
 the ciistern angle of the encampment. High on the shoulder 
 of Mount Joy a second line girdled the mountain, and then 
 ran northward to the river, broken only by the hollow 
 through Avhich the Gulf Road descended to the Forge. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 317 
 
 This hollow place was later defended by an abattis and a 
 triangular earthwork. 
 
 A redoubt on the east side of Mount Joy commanded 
 the Valley road, and another behind the left flank of the 
 abattis, that which came from the river, while a star redoubt 
 on a hill at the bank acted as a tete-de-pont for the bridge 
 that Avas thrown across the Schuylkill. Behind the front 
 and before the second line the troops were ordered to build 
 huts for winter quarters. Fourteen feet by sixteen, of logs 
 plastered with clay,* these huts began to rise on every side. 
 Placed in ro\vs, each brigade by itself, they soon gave the 
 camp the appearance of a little city. All day long the axe 
 resounded among the hills, and the place was filled with the 
 noise of hammering and the crash of falling trees. " I 
 was there when the army first began to build huts," wrote 
 Paine to Franklin. " They appeared to me like a family 
 of beavers, every one busy ; some carrying logs, others 
 mud, and the rest plastering them together. The whole 
 was raised in a few days, and it is a curious collection of 
 buildings in the true rustic order."f The weather soon 
 became intensely cold. Tlie Schuylkill froze over, and 
 the roads were blocked with snow, but it was not until 
 nearly the middle of January that the last hut was built 
 and the army settled down into winter quarters on the bare 
 hillsides. Lono; before that its sufferings had begun. 
 
 The trials which have made this place so famous arose 
 chiefly from the incapacity of Congress. It is true that 
 the country in the neighborhood of Philadelphia was well- 
 nigh exhausted. An active campaign over a small extent 
 of territory had drawn heavily on the resources of this part 
 
 * Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 525. 
 t Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. ii. p. 294. 
 
318 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 of Pennsylvania and the adjacent Jersey. Both forces had 
 fed upon the country, and it was not so much disaifection 
 (of which Washington wrote) as utter exhaustion which 
 made the farmers of the devastated region furnish so little 
 to the army. Nor would it have been human nature in 
 them to have preferred the badly printed, often counter- 
 feited, depreciated promise to pay, of the Americans, for the 
 gold which the British had to offer. In spite of the efforts 
 of McLane's and Lee's Light Horse and the activity of 
 Lacey, of the militia, the few supplies that w^ere left went 
 steadily to Philadelphia, and the patriot army remained in 
 want. But the more distant States, north and south, could 
 easily have fed and clothed a much more numerous army. 
 That they did not was the fault of Congress. That body 
 no longer contained the men who had made it famous in 
 the years gone by. Franklin was in Paris, where John 
 Adams was about to join him. Jay, Jefferson, Rutledge, 
 Livingston, and Henry were employed at home. Hancock 
 had resigned. Samuel Adams was absent in New England. 
 Men much their inferiors had taken their places.* 
 
 The period, inevitable in the history of revolutions, had 
 arrived, when men of the second rank came to the front. 
 With the early leaders in the struggle had disappeared the 
 foresight, the breadth of view, the loftiness of purpose, and 
 the self-sacrificing spirit belonging only to great minds 
 which had marked and honored the commencement of the 
 struggle. A smaller mind had begun to rule, a narrower 
 view to influence, a personal feeling to animate the members.f 
 Driven from Philadelphia, they were in a measure disheart- 
 
 * P. S. Duponceau, quoted in Kapp's Steuben, p. 100. 
 
 f These views are expressed in Hamilton's letter to Clinton, Feb- 
 ruary 7, 1778. Vide History of the llepublic of the United States, 
 vol. i. p. 422. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 319 
 
 ened, and their pride touched in a tender spot. Incapable 
 of the loftier sentiments which had moved their predeces- 
 sors, they could not overcome a sense of their own impor- 
 tance and the desire to magnify their office. Petty rivalries 
 had sprung up among them, and sectional feeling, smothered 
 in '74, '75, and '76, had taken breath again, and asserted 
 itself with renewed vigor in the recent debates on the con- 
 federation. But if divided among themselves by petty 
 jealousies, they were united in a greater jealousy of Wash- 
 ington and the army. They cannot be wholly blamed for 
 this. Taught by history no less than by their own experi- 
 ence, of the dangers of standing armies in a free State, and 
 wanting in modern history the single example which we 
 have in Washington of a successful military chief retiring 
 voluntarily into private life, they judged the leader of their 
 forces by themselves and the ordinary rules of human na- 
 ture. Their distrust was not unnatural nor wholly selfish, 
 and must find some justification in the exceptional greatness 
 of his character. 
 
 It was in vain that he called on them to dismiss their 
 doubts and trust an army which had proved faithful.* In 
 vain he urged them to let their patriotism embrace, as his 
 had learned to do, the whole country with an equal fervor. 
 In vain he pointed out that want of organization in the 
 army was due to want of union among them. They con- 
 tinued distrustful and unconvinced. In vain he asked for 
 a single army, one and homogeneous. Congress insisted 
 on thirteen distinct armies, each under the control of its 
 particular State. The effect was disastrous. The personnel 
 of the army was continually changing. Each State had its 
 own rules, its own system of organization, its own plan of 
 
 * Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 328. 
 
320 VALLEF FORGE. 
 
 making enlistments. No two worked together — the men's 
 terms even expiring at the most delicate and critical times. 
 Promotion was irregular and uncertain, and the sense of 
 duty was impaired as that of responsibility grew less. 
 Instead of an organized army, Washington commanded a 
 disorganized mob. The extraordinary virtues of that great 
 man might keep the men together, but there were some 
 things which they could not do. Without an organized 
 quartermaster's department the men could not be clothed 
 or fed. At first mismanaged, this department became neg- 
 lected. The warnings of Washington were disregarded, 
 his appeals in vain. The troops began to want clothing 
 soon after Brandywine. By November it was evident that 
 they must keep the field without blankets, overcoats, or 
 tents. At Whitemarsh they lay, half clad, on frozen 
 ground. By the middle of December they were in want 
 of the necessaries of life. 
 
 " W^e are ordered to march over the river," writes Dr. 
 Waldo, of Colonel Prentice's Connecticut Regiment, at 
 Swede's Ford, on December 12. " It snows — I'm sick — eat 
 nothing — no whiskey — no baggage — Lord — Lord — Lord ! 
 . . . Till sunrise crossing the river, . . . cold and uncom- 
 fortable."* " I'm sick," he goes on two days after, in his 
 diary, " discontented and out of humor. Poor food — hard 
 lodging — cold weather — fatigued — nasty clothes — nasty 
 cookery . . . smoked out of my senses ... I can't endure it. 
 . . . Here comes a bowl of soup, . . . sickish enough to make 
 a Hector ill. Away with it, boy — I'll live like the chame- 
 leon, on air."t On the 19th of December they reached 
 Valley Forge. By the 21st even such a bowl of soup had 
 become a luxury. " A general cry," notes Waldo again, 
 
 * Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. f Ibid. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 321 
 
 " through the camp this evening : . . . ' No meat, no meat.' 
 The distant vales echoed back the melancholy sound : ' No 
 meat, no meat.' "* It was literally true. On the next day 
 Washintiton wrote to the President of Cono-ress : "I do 
 not know from what cause this alarming deficiency, or 
 rather total failure of supplies, arises, but unless more vig- 
 orous exertions and better regulations take place in that line 
 immediately this army must dissolve. I have done all in 
 my power by remonstrating, by writing, by ordering the 
 commissaries on this head, from time to time ; but without 
 any good effect, or obtaining more than a present scanty 
 relief. Owing to this the march of the army has been de- 
 layed on more than one interesting occasion in the course of 
 the present campaign ; and had a body of the enemy crossed 
 the Schuylkill this morning (as I had reason to expect from 
 the intelligence I received at four o'clock last night), the 
 divisions which I ordered to be in readiness to march and 
 meet them could not have moved."t Hardly was this 
 written when the news did come that the enemy had come 
 out to Darby, and the troops were ordered under arms. 
 " Fighting," responded General Huntington when he got 
 the order, " will be far preferable to starving. My brigade 
 is out of provisions, nor can the commissary obtain any 
 meat."| " Three days successively," added Varnum, of 
 Rhode Island, " we have been destitute of bread, two days 
 we have been entirely without meat."§ It was impossible 
 to stir. And " this," wrote Washington, in indignation, 
 brought forth the only commissary in camp, " and with him 
 this melancholy and alarming truth that he had not a single 
 
 * Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 132. 
 
 f Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 193. 
 
 X Ibid., foot-note. ^ Ibid., foot-note. 
 
322 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 hoof to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five barrels of 
 flour."* " I ara now convhiced beyond a doubt that unless 
 some great and capital change suddenly takes place in that 
 line this army must inevitably be reduced to one or other 
 of these three things — starve, dissolve, or disperse, in order 
 to obtain subsistence."t 
 
 But no change was destined to take place for many suf- 
 fering weeks to come. The cold grew more and more in- 
 tense, and provisions scarcer every day. Soon all were alike 
 in want. " The colonels were often reduced to two rations 
 and sometimes even to one. The army frequently re- 
 mained whole days without provisions," is the testimony of 
 Lafayette.^ " AVe have lately been in an alarming state for 
 want of provisions," says Colonel Laurens, on the 17tli of 
 February.§ " The army has been in great distress since you 
 left," wrote Greene to Knox nine days afterwards ; " the 
 troops are getting naked. They were seven days without 
 meat, and several days without bread. . . . We are still 
 in danger of starving. Hundreds of horses have already 
 starved to death. "1| The painful testimony is full and un- 
 contradicted. "Several brigades," wrote Adjutant-General 
 Scammel to Timothy Pickering, early in February, " have 
 been without their allowance of meat. This is the third 
 day."T[ " In yesterday's conference with the General," said 
 the Committee of Congress sent to report, writing on the 
 12th of February, "he informed us that some brigades had 
 been four days without meat, and that even the common 
 soldiers had been at his quarters to make known their wants." 
 
 * Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 197. t Ibid. 
 
 X Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 
 
 § Correspondence of Col. John Laurens, p. 126. 
 
 II Life of Knox, by Drake, pp. 55-6. 
 
 T[ Life of Pickering, vol. i. p. 204. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 323 
 
 " Slioukl the enemy" attack the camp successfully, " your 
 artillery would undoubtedly fall into their hands for want 
 of horses to remove it. But these are smaller and tolerable 
 evils when compared with the imminent danger of your 
 troops perishing with famine, or dispersing in search of 
 food."* " For some days past there has been little less than 
 a famine in the camp," writes Washington to Clinton ; " a 
 part of the army has been a week without any kind of 
 flesh, and the rest three or four days."t Famished for 
 want of food, they were no better oif for clothes. " The un- 
 fortunate soldiers were in want of everything. They had 
 neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes," wrote the Marquis 
 de Lafayette.l "The men," said Baron Steuben, "were 
 literally naked, some of them in the fullest extent of the 
 AVord."§ " 'Tis a melancholy consideration," were the words 
 of Pickering, " that hundreds of our men are unfit for 
 duty only for want of clothes and shoes." || Hear Washing- 
 ton himself on the 23d of December : " We have (besides 
 a number of men confined to hospitals for want of shoes, 
 and others in farm-houses on the same account), by a field 
 return, this day made, no less than two thousand eight 
 hundred and ninety-eight men now in camp unfit for duty, 
 because they are barefoot, and otherwise naked."^ " Our 
 numbers, since the 4th instant, from the hardships and ex- 
 posures they have undergone, (many having been obliged 
 for want of blankets to sit up all night by fires instead of 
 taking rest in a natural and common way,) have decreased 
 two thousand men."** By the 1st of February that number 
 
 * Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 362. 
 
 t Sparks, vol. v. p. 239. J Memoirs, vol. i. p. 35, 
 
 ^ Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 118. 
 
 II Life of Pickering, vol. i. p. 201. T[ Sparks, vol. v. p. 199. 
 
 ** Vide Sparks, ibid. 
 
324 VALLEF FORGE. 
 
 had grown to four thousand, and there were fit for duty 
 but five thousand and twelve, or one-half the men in camp. 
 " So," in the words of the Hebrew prophet, " they labored 
 in the work, and half of them held the spears from the 
 rising of the morning till the stars appeared." 
 
 Naked and starving in an unusually rigorous winter, they 
 fell sick by hundreds. From want of clothes " their feet and 
 legs froze till they became blaclc, and it was often necessary 
 to amputate them."* Through a want of straw or mate- 
 rials to raise them from the wet earth (I quote again from 
 the Committee of Congress) "sickness and mortality have 
 spread through their quarters to an astonishing degree." 
 The smallpox has broken out. " Notwithstanding the dili- 
 gence of the physicians and surgeons, of whom we hear no 
 complaint, the sick and dead list has increased one-third in 
 the last week's return, which was one-third greater than 
 the week preceding, and from the present inclement weather 
 will probably increase in a much greater proportion. "f 
 Well might Washington exclaim : " Our sick naked, and 
 well naked, our unfortunate men in captivity naked !"J; 
 " Our difficulties and distresses are certainly great, and 
 such as wound the feelings of humanity. "§ Nor was this 
 all. Wiiat many had to endure beside, let Dr. Waldo 
 tell : " When the officer has been fatiguing throuo-h wet and 
 cold, and returns to his tent to find a letter from his wife 
 filled with the most heart-aching complaints a woman is 
 capable of writing, acquainting him with the incredible 
 difficulty with which she procures a little bread for herself 
 and children ; that her money is of very little consequence 
 
 * Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 
 t Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 361. 
 J Sparks, vol. v. p. 207. | Ibid. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 325 
 
 to her — concluding with expressions bordering on despair 
 of getting sufficient food to keep soul and body together 
 through the winter, and begging him to consider that 
 charity begins at home, and not suffer his family to perish 
 with want in the midst of plenty — what man is there whose 
 soul would not shrink within him? Who would not be 
 disheartened from persevering in the best of causes — the 
 cause of his country — when such discouragements as these 
 lie in his w-ay, which his country might remedy if it 
 would ?"* 
 
 Listen to his description of the common soldier : " See 
 the poor soldier when in health. AVitli what chearfullness 
 he meets his foes, and encounters every hardship ! If bare- 
 foot, he labours thro' the Mud and Cold with a Song in his 
 mouth extolling War and Washington. If his food be bad, 
 he eats it notwithstanding with seeming content, blesses 
 God for a good Stomach, and Whisles it into digestion. But 
 harkee ! Patience a moment ! There comes a Soldier," 
 " and crys with an air of wretchedness and dispair : ' I'm Sick ; 
 my feet lame; my legs are sore; my body cover'd with 
 this tormenting Itch ; my Cloaths are worn out ; my Consti- 
 tution is broken; my former Activity is exhausted by fatigue, 
 hunger, and Cold ; I fail fast ; I shall soon be no more ! 
 And all the reward I shall get will be, 'Poor Will is 
 dead !' "f ' And in the midst of this they persevered ! 
 Freezing, starving, dying, rather than desert their flag they 
 saw their loved ones suffer, but kept the faith. And the 
 American yeoman of the Revolution remaining faithful 
 through that winter is as splendid an example of devotion 
 to duty as that which the pitying ashes of Vesuvius have 
 preserved through eighteen centuries in the figure of the 
 
 * Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. f Ibid., p. 169. 
 
326 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 Roman soldier standing at his post, unmoved amid all the 
 horrors of Pompeii. " The Guard die, but never surren- 
 der," was the phrase invented for Cambronne. " My com- 
 rades freeze and starve, but they never forsake me," might 
 be J3ut into the mouth of Washington. 
 
 " Naked and starving as they are," writes one of their 
 officers, we " cannot enough admire the incomparable pa- 
 tience and fidelity of the soldiery that they have not been 
 ere this excited by their sufferings to a general mutiny and 
 desertion."* " Nothing can equal their sufferings," says the 
 Committee, " except the patience and fortitude with which 
 they bear them."f Greene's account to Knox is touching : 
 " Such patience and moderation as they manifested under 
 their sufferings does the highest honor to the magnanimity 
 of the American soldiers. The seventh day they came before 
 their superior officers and told their sufferings as if they had 
 been humble petitioners for special favors. They added that 
 it would be impossible to continue in camp any longer with- 
 out snpport."J In INIarch Thomas Wharton writes in the 
 name of Pennsylvania : " The unparalleled j)atience and 
 magnanimity with which the army under your Excellency's 
 command have endured the hardships attending their situ- 
 ation, unsupplied as they have been through an uncommonly 
 severe winter, is an honor which posterity will consider as 
 more illustrious than could have been derived to them by a 
 victory obtained by any sudden and vigorous exertion. "§ " I 
 would cherish these dear, ragged Continentals, whose patience 
 will be the admiration of future ages, and glory in bleeding 
 
 * Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 239. 
 
 t Reed's Life of Keed, vol. i. p. 361. 
 
 X Life of Greene, by Prof. G. W. Greene, vol. i. p. 563. 
 
 § Correspondence of the Revolution : Sparks, vol. ii. p. 83. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 327 
 
 with them," cried John Laurens in the enthusiasm of youth.* 
 " The patience and endurance of both soldiers and officers 
 Avas a miracle which each moment served to renew/' said 
 Lafayette in his old age.f But the noblest tribute comes~ 
 from the pen of him who knew them best: "Without ar- 
 rogance or the smallest deviation from truth it may be said 
 that no history now extant can furnish an instance of an 
 army's suffering such uncommon hardships as ours has done 
 and bearing them with the same patience and fortitude. To 
 see men without clothes to cover their nakedness, without 
 blankets to lie on, without shoes (for the want of which 
 their marches might be traced by the blood from their feet), 
 and almost as often without provisions as with them, march- 
 ing through the frost and snow, and at Christmas taking up 
 their winter quarters within a day's march of the enemy, 
 without a house or a hut to cover them till they could be 
 built, and submitting without a murmur, is a proof of pa 
 tience and obedience which in my opinion can scarce be 
 paralleled."! Such was Washington's opinion of the sol- 
 diers of Valley Forge. 
 
 Americans, who have gathered on the broad bosom of 
 these hills to-day : if heroic deeds can consecrate a spot of 
 Earth, if the living be still sensible of the example of the 
 dead, if Courage be yet a common virtue, and Patience in 
 Suffering be still honorable in your sight, if Freedom be 
 any longer precious and Faith in Humanity be not banished 
 from among you, if Love of Country still find a refuge 
 among the hearts of men, take your shoes from off your 
 feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground ! 
 
 And who are the leaders of the men whose heroism can 
 
 * Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 136. 
 
 t Memoirs, vol. i. p. 35, X Sparks, vol. v. p. 329. 
 
328 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 sanctify a place like this ? Descend the hill and wander 
 through the camp. The weather is intensely cold and the 
 smoke hangs above the huts. On the plain behind the front 
 line a few general officers are grouped about a squad whom 
 the new inspector, the German baron, is teaching some ma- 
 noeuvre. Bodies of men here and there are draj^ffing; wag-ons 
 up hill (for the horses have starved to death) or carrying 
 fuel for fires, without which the troops would freeze.* The 
 huts are deserted save by the sick or naked, and as you pass 
 along the street a poor fellow peeps out at the door of one 
 and cries : " No bread, no soldier !" 
 
 These are the huts of Huntington's brigade of the Con- 
 necticut line;t next to it those of Pennsylvanians under 
 Conway. This is the Irish-Frenchman soon to disappear 
 in a disgraceful intrigue. Here in camp there are many 
 who whisper that he is a mere adventurer, but in Congress 
 they still think him " a great military character." Down 
 towards headquarters are the Southerners commanded by 
 Tiachlin Mcintosh, in his youth " the handsomest man in" 
 Georgia. Beyond Conway, on the hill, is Maxwell, a gal- 
 lant Irishman, commissioned by New Jersey. Woodford 
 of Virginia, commands on the right of the second line, and 
 in front of him the Virginian Scott. The next brigade in 
 order are Pennsylvanians — many of them men whose homes 
 are in this neighborhood — Chester county boys and Quakers 
 from the Valley turned soldiers for their country's sake. 
 They are the children of three races — the hot Irish blood 
 mixes with the colder Dut(;h in their calm English veins, 
 and some of them — their chief, for instance — are splendid 
 fighters. There he is at this moment riding up the hill 
 from his quarters in the valley. A man of medium height 
 
 * Reed's Life of Reed, p. 362. 
 
 t Map in vol. v. of Sparks's Washington. 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 329 
 
 and strong frame, he sits his horse well and with a dashing 
 air. His nose is prominent, his eye piercing, his complexion 
 ruddy, his whole appearance that of a man in s])lendid 
 health and flowing spirits. He is just the fellow to win by 
 his headlong valor the nickname of " The Mad." But he 
 is more than a mere fighter. Skilful, energetic, full of re- 
 sources and presence of mind, quick to comprehend and 
 prompt to act, of sound judgment and extraordinary cour- 
 age, he has in him the qualities of a great general, as he 
 shall show many a time in his short life of one-and-fifty 
 years. Pennsylvania, after her quiet fashion, may not 
 make as much of his fame as it deserves, but impartial 
 history will allow her none the less the honor of having 
 given its most brilliant soklier to the Revolution in her 
 Anthony Wayne. Poor of New Hampshire, is encamped 
 next, and then Glover, whose regiment of Marblehead 
 sailors and fishermen manned the boats that saved the 
 army on the night of the retreat from Long Island. 
 Learned, Patterscju, and Weedon follow, and then at the 
 corner of the entrenchments by the river is the Virginian 
 brigade of Muhlenberg. Born at the Trappe, close by, 
 and educated abroad, Muhlenberg was a clergyman in Vir- 
 ginia when the war came on, but he has doffed his parson's 
 gown forever for the buff and blue of a brigadier. His 
 stalwart form and swarthy face are already as familiar to 
 the enemy as they are to his own men, for the Hessians are 
 said to have cried, "Hier kommt Teufel Pete!"* as they 
 saw him lead a charge at Brandy wine. The last brigade is 
 stationed on the river bank, where Varnum and his Rhode 
 Islanders, in sympathy with young Laurens, of Carolina, 
 are busy with a scheme to raise and enlist regiments of 
 
 * Greene's Life of Greene, vol. i. p. 452. 
 22 
 
330 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 negro troops.* These are the commanders of brigades. The 
 major-generals are seven. Portly William Alexander, of 
 New Jersey, who claims to be the Earl of Stirling, but can 
 fight for a republic bravely, nevertheless ; swarthy John 
 Sullivan, of New Hampshire, a little headstrong, but brave 
 as a lion ; Steuben, the Prussian martinet, who has just 
 come to teach the army ; De Kalb — self-sacrificing and 
 generous DeKalb — whose honest breast shall soon bear 
 eleven mortal wounds, received in the service of America; 
 Lafayette, tall, with auburn hair, the French boy of twenty 
 Avith an old man's head, just recovering from the wounds of 
 Brandy wine ; and last and greatest of them all, Nathaniel 
 Greene, the Quaker blacksmith from Rhode Island, in all 
 great qualities second only to the Chief himself. Yonder 
 is Henry Knox of the artillery, as brave and faithful as he 
 is big and burly ; and the Pole, Pulaski, a man " of hardly 
 middle stature, of sharp countenance and lively air."f Here 
 are the Frenchmen, Du Portail, Dubryson, Duplessis, and 
 Duponceau. Here are Timothy Pickering and Light Horse 
 Harry Lee, destined to be famous in Senate, Cabinet, and 
 field. Here are Henry Dearborn and William Hull, whose 
 paths in life shall one day cross again, and John Laurens 
 and Tench Tilghman, those models of accomplished man- 
 hood, destined so soon to die ! 
 
 Does that silent boy of twenty, who has just ridden by 
 with a message from Lord Stirling, imagine that one day 
 the doctrine which shall keep the American continent free 
 from the touch of European politics shall be forever asso- 
 ciated with the name of James Monroe ? Does yonder tall, 
 
 * Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 108. Historical Research 
 respecting Negroes as Slaves, Citizens, and as Soldiers, Livermore, 
 p. 151. 
 
 f Waldo, Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 171. 
 
VALLF.r FORGE. 331 
 
 aAvkward youth in the Third Virginia, who bore a musket 
 so gallantly at Brandywine, dream as he lies there shiver- 
 ing in his little hut on the slopes of Mount Joy that in the 
 not distant future it is he that shall build up the jurispru- 
 dence of a people, and after a life of usefulness and honor 
 bequeath to them in the fame of John Marshall the precious 
 example of a great and upright Judge ? Two other youths 
 are here — both of small stature and lithe, active frame — of 
 the same rank and almost the same age, whose ambitious 
 eyes alike look forward already to fame and power in law 
 and politics. But not even his own aspiring spirit can fore- 
 tell the splendid rise, the dizzy elevation and the sudden 
 fall of Aaron Burr — nor can the other foresee that the time 
 will never come when his countrymen will cease to admire 
 the ffenius and lament the fate of Alexander Hamilton ! 
 
 And what shall I say of him who bears on his heart the 
 weight of all? Who can measure the anxieties that afflict 
 his mind? Who weigh the burdens that he has to bear? 
 Who but himself can ever know the responsibilities that rest 
 upon his soul? Behold him in yonder cottage, his lamp 
 burning steadily through half the winter night, his brain 
 never at rest, his hand always busy, his pen ever at work ; 
 now counselling with Greene how to clothe and feed the 
 troops, or with Steuben how to reorganize the service ; now 
 writing to Howe about exchanges, or to Livingston about 
 the relief of prisoners, or to Clinton about supplies, or to 
 Congress about enlistments or promotions or finances or the 
 French Alliance; opposing foolish and rash counsels to-day, 
 urging prompt and rigorous policies to-morrow ; now calm- 
 ing the jealousy of Congress, now soothing the wounded 
 pride of ill-used officers ; now answering the complaints of 
 the civil authority, and now those of the starving soldiers, 
 whose suiferings he shares, and by his cheerful courage 
 
332 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 keeping up the hearts of both ; repressing the zeal of 
 friends to-day, and overcoming with steadfast rectitude the 
 intrigues of enemies in Congress and in camp to-morrow; 
 bearing criticism with patience, and calumny with fortitude, 
 and, lest his country should suffer, answering both only with 
 plans ibr her defence, of which others are to reap the glory; 
 guarding the long coast with ceaseless vigilance, and watch- 
 ing with sleepless eye a chance to strike the enemy in front 
 a blow ; a soldier subordinating the military to the civil 
 power ; a dictator, as mindful of the rights of Tories as of 
 the wrongs of Whigs ; a statesman, commanding a revolu- 
 tionary army; a patriot, forgetful of nothing but himself; 
 this is he wdiose extraordinary virtues only have kept the 
 army from disbanding, and saved his country's cause. 
 Modest in the midst of Pride; Wise in the midst of Folly; 
 Calm in the midst of Passion ; Cheerful in the midst of 
 Gloom; Steadfast among the Wavering; Hopeful among 
 the Despondent ; Bold among the Timid ; Prudent among 
 the Rash ; Generous among the Selfish ; True among the 
 Faitldess; Greatest among good men, and Best among the 
 Great — such was George Washington at Valley Forge. 
 
 But the darkest hour of night is just before the day. In 
 the middle of February Washington described the dreadful 
 situation of the army and " the miserable prospects before 
 it" as " more alarming" than can possibly be conceived, and 
 as occasioning him more distress " than he had felt"* since 
 the commencement of the war. On the 23d of February, 
 he whom we call Baron Steuben, rode into camp ;t on the 
 6th Franklin signed the Treaty of Alliance at Versailles. 
 
 Frederick A\^illiam Augustus Baron \on Steuben was a 
 native of Magdeburg, in Prussia. Trained from early life 
 
 * Sparks, vol. v. p. 239. f Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 104. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 333 
 
 to arms, he had been Aide to the Great Frederick, Lieuten- 
 ant-General to the Prince of Baden, Grand Marshal at the 
 Court of one of the Hohenzollerns, and a Canon of the 
 Church. A skilful soldier, a thorough disciplinarian, a 
 gentleman of polished manners, a man of warm and gener- 
 ous heart, he had come in the prime of life and vigor to 
 oifer his services to the American people. None could have 
 been more needed or more valuable at the time. Congress 
 sent him to the camp, Washington quickly discerned his 
 worth, and in a little time ho was made Major-General and 
 Inspector of the Army. In an instant there was a change 
 in that department. A discipline unknown before took 
 possession of the camp. Beginning with a picked company 
 of one hundred and twenty men, the Baron drilled them 
 carefully, himself on foot and musket in hand. These, 
 Avhen they became proficient, he made a model for others, 
 and presently the whole camp had become a military school. 
 Rising at three in the morning, he smoked a single pij)e 
 while his servant dressed his hair, drank one cup of colfee, 
 and, with his star of knighthood gleaming on his breast, 
 was on horseback at sunrise, and, witii or without his suite, 
 galloj^ed to the parade. There all day he drilled the men, 
 and at nightfall galloped back to the hut in which he made 
 his quarters, to draw up regulations and draft instructions 
 for the inspectors under him.* And thus day after day, 
 patient, careful, laborious, and persevering, in a few months 
 he transformed this untrained yeomanry into a disciplined 
 and effective army. There have been more brilliant ser- 
 vices rendered to America than these, but few perhaps more 
 valuable and worthier of remembrance. Knight of the 
 Order of Fidelity, there have been more illustrious names 
 
 * Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 130, 
 
334 VALLEV FORGE. 
 
 than thine upon our lips to-day. Like many another who 
 labored for us, our busy age has seemed to pass thee by. 
 But here, at least, when, after a Century, Americans gather 
 to review their Country's history, shall they recall thy un- 
 selfish services with gratitude and thy memory with honor! 
 And surely at Valley Forge we must not forget what 
 Franklin was doing for his country's cause in France. It 
 was a happy thing for the Republican Idea that it had a 
 distant continent for the place of its experiment. It was a 
 fortunate thing for America that between her and her 
 nearest European neiglibor lay a thousand leagues of sea. 
 That distance — a very different matter from what it is to- 
 day — made it at the same time difficult for England to 
 overcome us, and safe for France to lend us aid. From an 
 early period this alliance seemed to have been considered by 
 the Cabinet of France. For several years secret negotiations 
 had been going on, and in the fall of 1777 they became 
 open and distinct, and the representatives of both nations 
 came face to face. There was no sympathy between weak 
 and feeble Louis and his crafty Ministers on the one side 
 and the representatives of Democracy and Rebellion on the 
 other ; nor had France any hopes of regaining her foothold 
 on this Continent. The desire of her rulers was simply to 
 humiliate and injure England, and the revolution in Amer- 
 ica seemed to offer the chance. Doubtless they were influ- 
 enced by the fact that the cause of America had become 
 very popular with all classes of the French people, im- 
 pressed to a remarkable degree with the character of Dr. 
 Franklin, and stirred by the contagious and generous ex- 
 ample of Lafayette. Nor was this popular feeling merely 
 temporary or without foundation. Long familiar as he 
 had been with despotism in both politics and religion, the 
 Frenchman still retained within him a certain spirit of 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 33.3 
 
 liberty which was stronger than he knew. His sympathies 
 naturally went out toward a distant people engaged in a 
 ijallant stru2:2;le ao-ainst his hereditary enemies, the Ensrlish: 
 but besides all that, there was in his heart something, he 
 hardly knew what, that vibrated at the thought of a free- 
 dom for others which he had hardly dreamed of and never 
 known. Little did he or any of his rulers foresee what 
 that something was. Little did France imagine, as she 
 blew into a flame the spark of Liberty beyond the sea, that 
 there was that within her own dominions which in eleven 
 years, catching the divine fire from the glowing "West, 
 would set herself and Europe in a blaze ! Accordingly, 
 after much doubt, delay, and intrigue, during which Frank- 
 lin bore himself with rare ability and tact, Treaties of Amity, 
 Commerce, and Alliance were prepared and signed. The 
 Independence of America was acknowledged and made the 
 basis of alliance, and it M^as mutually agreed that neither 
 nation should lay down its arms until England had con- 
 ceded it. A fleet, an army, and munitions were promised 
 by the King, and, as a consequence, war was at once declared 
 against Great Britain. 
 
 We are accustomed to regard this as the turning-point in 
 the Revolutionary struggle. And so it was. But neither 
 the fleet of France nor her armies, gallant as they were, nor 
 the supplies and means with which she furnished us, were 
 as valuable to the cause of the struggling country as the 
 moral effect, at home as well as abroad, of the Alliance. 
 Hopes that were built upon the skill of French sailors 
 were soon dispelled, the expectations of large contingent 
 armies were not to be fulfilled, but the news of the French 
 Alliance carried into every patriotic heart an assurance that 
 never left it afterward and kept aroused a spirit that hence- 
 forward grew stronger every year. Says the historian 
 
336 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 Bancroft : " Tlie benefit then conferred on the United 
 States was priceless." And " so the flags of France and 
 the United States went together into the field ao;ainst Great 
 Britain, unsupported by any other government, yet with the 
 good wishes of all the peoples of Europe."* And thus 
 illustrious Franklin, the Philadelphia printer, earned the 
 magnificent compliment that was paid him in the French 
 Academy: "Eripuit fulmen coelo, sceptrumque tyrannis." 
 
 And all the while, unconscious of the event, the winter 
 days at Valley Forge dragged by, one after another, with 
 sleet and slush and snow, with storms of wind, and ice and 
 beating rain. The light-horse scoured the country, the 
 pickets watched, the sentinels paced up and down, the men 
 drilled and practised, and starved and froze and suffered, 
 and at last the spring-time came, and with it stirring news. 
 Greene was appointed Quartermaster-General on the 23d 
 of March, and under his skilful management relief and 
 succor came. The Conciliatory Bills, oifering all but inde- 
 pendence, were received in April, and instantly rejected by 
 Congress, under the stirring influence of a letter from 
 Washington, declaring with earnestness that "nothing short 
 of independence would do," and at last, on the 4th of May, 
 at eleven o'clock at night, the news of the French treaty 
 reached the Head-Quarters. 
 
 On the 6th, by general orders, the army, after appropriate 
 religious services, was drawn up under arms, salutes were 
 fired with cannon and musketry, cheers given by the sol- 
 diers for the King of France and the American States, and 
 a banquet by the General-in-Chief to all the officers, in the 
 open air, completed a day devoted to rejoicing.f " And all 
 
 * History of the United States, vol. ix. pp. 505-6. 
 t Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 169. 
 
 < 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 337 
 
 tlie wliile," says the English satirist, "■ Howe left the famous 
 camp of Valley Forge untouched, whilst his great, brave, 
 and perfectly appointed army, fiddled and gambled and 
 feasted in Philadelphia. And by Byng's countrymen 
 triumphal arches w'ere erected, tournaments were held in 
 pleasant mockery of the Middle Ages, and wreaths and 
 garlands offered by beautiful ladies to this clement chief, 
 with fantastical mottoes and poesies announcing that his 
 laurels should be immortal."* On the 18th of May (the 
 day of that famous festivity) Lafayette took post at Barren 
 Hill, from which he escaped so brilliantly two days after- 
 wards. At last, on the 18th of June, George Roberts,f of 
 Philadelphia, came galloping up the Gulf Road covered 
 wath dust and sweat, with the news that the British had 
 evacuated Philadelphia. Six brigades were at once in 
 motion — the rest of the army prepared to follow with all 
 possible despatch early on the 19th. The bridge across the 
 Schuylkill was laden with tramping troops. Cannon rum- 
 bled rapidly down the road to the river. The scanty bag- 
 gage was packed, the flag at Head-Quarters taken doM'u, the 
 last brigade descended the river bank, the huts were empty, 
 the breastworks deserted, the army was off for Monmouth, 
 and the hills of Valley Forge were left alone with their 
 glory and their dead. The last foreign foe had left the soil 
 of Pennsylvania forever. Yes, the last foreign foe ! Who 
 could foretell the mysteries of the future ? Who foresee 
 the trials that were yet to come? Little did the sons of 
 New England and the South, who starved and froze and 
 died here in the snow together, think, as their eyes beheld 
 for the last time the little flag that meant for them a com- 
 
 * Thackeray's Virginians, chap. xci. 
 
 t Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 409. 
 
338 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 mon country, that tlie time would come when, amid sound 
 of cannon, their children, met again on Pennsylvania soil, 
 would confront each other in the splendid agony of battle ! 
 Sorrow was their portion, but it was not given them to 
 suffer this. It was theirs to die in the gloomiest period of 
 their country's history, but certain that her salvation was 
 assured. It was theirs to go down into the grave rejoicing 
 in the belief that their lives were sacrifice enough, blessedly 
 unconscious that the Liberty for which they struggled de- 
 manded that three hundred thousand of their children 
 should with equal courage and devotion lay down their 
 lives in its defence. Happy alike they who died before 
 that time and we who have survived it ! And, thank God 
 this day, that its shadow has passed away forever. The 
 sins of the fathers, visited upon the children, have been 
 washed away in blood — the sacrifice has been accepted — 
 the expiation has been complete. The men of North and 
 South whose bones moulder on these historic hillsides did 
 not die in vain. The institutions which they gave us we 
 preserve — the Freedom for which they fought is still our 
 birthright — the flag under which they died floats above our 
 heads on this anniversary, the emblem of a redeemed, re- 
 generate, reunited country. The union of those States still 
 stands secure. Enemies within and foes without have failed 
 to break it, and the spirit of faction, from whatever quarter 
 or in whatever cause, can no more burst its holy bonds 
 asunder, than can we separate in this sacred soil the dust of 
 Massachusetts and that of Carolina from that Pennsylvania 
 dust in whose embrace it has slumbered for a century, and 
 with which it must forever be indistinguishably mingled ! 
 
 Such, then, is the history of this famous place. To my 
 mind it has a glory all its own ! The actions which have 
 made it famous stand by themselves. It is not simply 
 
VALLEF FORGE. 339 
 
 because they were heroic. Brave deeds liave sanctified innu- 
 merable places in every land. The men of our revolution 
 were not more brave than their French allies, or their Ger- 
 man cousins, or their English brethren. Courage belongs 
 alike to all men. Nor were they the only men in history 
 who suffered. Others have borne trial as bravely, endured 
 with the same patience, died with as perfect a devotion. But 
 it is not given to all men to die in the best of causes or win 
 the greatest victories. It was the rare fortune of those who 
 were assembled here a hundred years ago that, having in 
 their keeping the most momentous things that were ever 
 intrusted to a people, they were at once both faithful and 
 victorious. The army that was encamped here was but a 
 handful, but what host ever defended so much? And what 
 spot of Earth has had a farther reaching and happier influ- 
 ence on the Human Race than this ? 
 
 Is it that which the traveller beholds when from Pen- 
 telicus he looks down on Marathon? The life of Athens was 
 short, and the Liberty which was saved on that immortal 
 field she gave up ingloriously more than twenty centuries 
 ago. The tyranny she resisted so gallantly from without, 
 she practised cruelly at home. The sword which she 
 wielded so well in her own defence she turned as readily 
 against her children. Her civilization, brilliant as it was, 
 was narrow and her spirit selfish. The boundaries of her 
 tiny state were larger than her heart, whose sympathy 
 could not include more than a part of her own kindred. 
 Her aspirations were pent up in herself, and she stands in 
 history to-day a prodigy of short-lived splendor — a warning 
 rather than example. 
 
 Is it any one of those, where the men of the Forest Can- 
 tons fell on the invader like an avalanche from their native 
 Alps and crushed him out of existence? The bravery of 
 
340 VALLEF FORGE. 
 
 the Swiss achieved only a sterile independence, which his 
 native mountains defended as well as he, and he tarnished 
 his glory forever when the sword of Morgarten was hawked 
 about the courts of Europe, and the victor of Grandson and 
 Morat sold himself to the foreio-n shambles of the highest 
 bidder. 
 
 Or is it that still more famous field, where the Belgian 
 lion keeps guard over the dead of three great nations? 
 There, three and sixty years ago yesterday, the armies of 
 Europe met in conflict. It was the war of giants. On the 
 one side England, the first power of the age, flushed with 
 victory, of inexhaustible resources, redoubtable by land 
 and invincible by sea; and Prussia, vigorous by nature, 
 stronger by adversity, hardened by suffering, full of bitter 
 memories and hungry for revenge ; and, on the other, France, 
 once mistress of the Continent, the arbiter of nations, the 
 conqueror of Wagram and Marengo and Fried land and 
 Austerlitz — spent at last in her own service, crushed rather 
 by the weight of her victories than by ihe power of her ene- 
 mies' arm — turning in her bloody footsteps, like a wounded 
 lion, to spring with redoubled fury at the throat of her 
 pursuers. Behold the conflict as it raged through the long 
 June day, while all the world listened and held its breath ! 
 
 The long lines of red, the advancing columns of blue, 
 the glitter of burnished steel, the roll of drums, the clangor 
 of trumpets, the cheering of men, the fierce attack, the stub- 
 born resistance, the slow recoil, the rattle of musketry, the 
 renewed assault, the crash of arms, the roar of cannons, the 
 clatter of the charging cavalry, the cries of the combatants, 
 the clash of sabres, the shrieks of the dying, the confused 
 retreat, the gallant rally, the final charge, the sickening re- 
 pulse, the last struggle, the shouts of the victors, the screams 
 of the vanquished, the wild confusion, the blinding smoke. 
 
VALLEV FORGE. 341 
 
 the awful uproar, the unspeakable rout, the furious pursuit, 
 the sounds dying in the distance, the groans of the wounded, 
 the fall of the summer rain, the sighing of the evening 
 breeze, the solemn silence of the night. Climb the steps 
 that lead to the summit of the mound that marks that place 
 to-day. There is no spot in Europe more famous tlian the 
 field beneath your feet. In outward aspect it is not unlike 
 this which we behold here. The hills are not so high nor 
 the valleys so deep, but the general effect of field and farm, 
 of ripening grain and emerald woodland, is much tlie same. 
 It has not been changed. There is the chateau of Hougo- 
 mont on the west and the forest through which the Prus- 
 sians came on the east ; on yonder hill the Emperor watched 
 the battle ; beneath you Ney made the last of many charges 
 — the world knows it all by heart. The traveller of every 
 race turns toward it his footsteps. It is the most celebrated 
 battle-field of Europe and of modern times. 
 
 But what did that great victory accomplish ? It broke 
 the power of one nation and asserted the independence of 
 the rest. It took from France an Emperor and gave her 
 back a King, a ruler whom she had rejected in place of one 
 whom she had chosen, a Bourbon for a Bonaparte, a King 
 by divine right for an Emperor by the people's will. It 
 revenged the memory of Jena and Corunna, and broke the 
 spell that made the fated name Napoleon the bond of an 
 empire almost universal ; it struck down one great man and 
 fixed a dozen small ones on the neck of Europe. But what 
 did it bequeath to us besides the ever-precious example of 
 heroic deeds? Nothing. What did they who conquered 
 there achieve? Fame for themselves, Woe for the van- 
 quished, Glory for England, Revenge for Prussia, Shame 
 for France, nothing for Humanity, nothing for Liberty. 
 Nothincr for Civilization, nothinsr for the liio-hts of Man. 
 
342 VALLEF FORGE. 
 
 One of the great Englishmen of that clay declared that it 
 had turned back the hands of the dial of the World's 
 progress for fifty years. And, said an English poetess : — 
 
 " The Kings crept out again to feel the sun. 
 
 The Kings crept out — the peoples sat at home. 
 
 And finding the long invocated peace 
 
 A pall embroidered with worn images 
 
 Of rights divine, too scant to cover doom 
 
 Such as tliey suffered, — curst the corn that grew 
 
 Rankly, to bitter bread, on Waterloo." 
 
 ]\Iy countrymen : For a century the eyes of struggling 
 nations have turned toward this spot, and lips in every lan- 
 guage have blessed the memory of Valley Forge ! The 
 tide of battle never ebbed and flowed upon these banks. 
 These hills never trembled beneath the tread of charging 
 squadrons nor echoed the thunders of contending can- 
 non. The blood that stained this ground did not rush 
 forth in the joyous frenzy of the fight; it fell drop by drop 
 from the heart of a suffering people. They who once en- 
 camped here in the snow fought not for conquest, not for 
 power, not for glory, not for their country only, not for 
 themselves alone. They served here for Posterity ; they 
 suiFered here for the Human Race ; they bore here the cross 
 of all the peoples ; they died here that Freedom might be 
 the heritage of all. It was Humanity which they defended ; 
 it was Liberty herself that they had in keeping. She that 
 was sought in the wilderness and mourned for by the 
 waters of Babylon — that Avas saved at Salarais and thrown 
 away at Chseronea ; that was fought for at Cannje and lost 
 forever at Pharsalia and Philippi — she who confronted the 
 Armada on the deck with Howard and rode beside Crom- 
 well on the field of Worcester — for whom the Swiss gath- 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 343 
 
 ered into his breast the sheaf of spears at Sempach, and tlie 
 Dutchman broke the dykes of Holland and welcomed in 
 the sea — she of whom Socrates spoke, and Plato wrote, and 
 Brutus dreamed and Homer sung — for whom Eliot pleaded, 
 and Sydney suffered, and Milton prayed, and Hampden 
 fell ! Driven by the persecution of centuries from the 
 older world, she had come with Pilgrim and Puritan, and 
 Cavalier and Quaker, to seek a shelter in the new. At- 
 tacked once more by her old enemies, she had taken refuge 
 here. Nor she alone. The dream of the Greek, the He- 
 brew's prophecy, the desire of the Roman, the Italian's 
 prayer, the longing of the German mind, the hope of the 
 French heart, the glory and honor of Old England herself, 
 the yearning of all the centuries, the aspiration of every 
 age, the promise of the Past, the fulfilment of the Future, 
 the seed of the old time, the harvest of the new — all these 
 were with her. And here, in the heart of America, they 
 were safe. The last of many struggles was almost won ; 
 the best of many centuries was about to break ; the time 
 was already come when from these shores the light of a 
 new Civilization should flash across the sea, and from this 
 place a voice of triumph make the Old World tremble, 
 when from her chosen refuge in the West the spirit of 
 Liberty should go forth to meet the Pising Sun and set 
 the people free ! 
 
 Americans : A hundred years have passed away and that 
 Civilization and that Liberty are still your heritage. But 
 think not that such an inheritance can be kept safe without 
 exertion. It is the burden of your Happiness, that with it 
 Privilege and Duty go hand in hand together. You cannot 
 shirk the Present and enjoy in the Future the blessings of 
 the Past. Yesterday begot To-day, and To-day is the parent 
 of To-morrow. The Old Time may be secure, but the New 
 
344 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 Time is uncertain. The dead are safe ; it is the privilege of 
 the living to be in peril. A country is benefited by great 
 actions only so long as her children are able to rejjeat them. 
 The memory of this spot shall be an everlasting honor for 
 our fathers, but we can make it an eternal shame for our- 
 selves if we choose to do so. The glory of Lexington and 
 Bunker Hill and Saratoy;a and Vallev Forge belongs not 
 to you and me, but we can make it ours if we will. It is 
 well for us to keep these anniversaries of great events. It 
 is well for us to meet by thousands on these historic spots. 
 It is well to walk by those unknown graves or follow the 
 windings of the breastworks that encircle yonder hill. It 
 is well for us to gather beneath yon little fort, which the 
 storms of so many winters have tenderly spared to look 
 down on us to-day. It is well to commemorate the past 
 w'itli song and eulogy and pleasant festival — but it is not 
 enough. 
 
 If they could return, Avhose forms have been passing in 
 imagination before our eyes ; if in the presence of this holy 
 hour the dead could rise and lips dumb for a century find 
 again a tongue, might they not say to us : You do well, 
 Countrymen, to commemorate this time. You do well to 
 honor those who yielded up their lives in glory here. 
 Theirs was a perfect sacrifice, and the debt you owe them 
 you can never pay. Your lines have fallen in a happier 
 time. The boundaries of your Union stretch from sea to 
 sea. You enjoy all the blessings which Providence can be- 
 stow ; a peace we never knew ; a wealth we never hoped 
 for; a power of which we never dreamed. Yet think not 
 that these tilings only can make a nation great. We laid 
 the foundations of your happiness in a time of trouble, in 
 days of sorrow and perplexity, of doubt, distress, and dan- 
 ger, of cold and hunger, of suffering and want. We built 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 345 
 
 it up by virtue, by courage, by self-sacrifice, by unfailing 
 patriotism, by unceasing vigilance. By those things alone 
 did we win your liberties ; by them only can you hope to 
 keep them. Do you revere our names ? Then follow our 
 example. Are you proud of our achievements ? Then try 
 to imitate them. Do you honor our memories ? Then do as 
 we have done. You yourselves owe something to America, 
 better than all those things which you spread before her with 
 such lavish hand — something which she needs as much in 
 her prosperity to-day, as ever in the sharpest crisis of her 
 fate ! For you have duties to perform as well as we. It 
 was ours to create ; it is yours to preserve. It was ours to 
 found; it is yours to perpetuate. It was ours to organize; 
 it is yours to purify ! And what nobler spectacle can you 
 present to mankind to-day, than that of a people honest, 
 steadfast, and secure — mindful of the lessons of experience 
 — true to the teachings of history — led by the loftiest ex- 
 amples and bound together to protect their institutions at 
 the close of the Century, as their fathers were to win them 
 at the beginning, by the ties of " Virtue, Honor, and Love 
 of Country" — by that Virtue which makes perfect the 
 happiness of a people — by that Honor which constitutes 
 the chief greatness of a State — by that Patriotism which 
 survives all things, braves all things, endures all things, 
 achieves all things — and which, though it find a refuge no- 
 where else, should live in the heart of every true American ! 
 My Countrymen : the century that has gone by has 
 changed the face of Nature and wrought a revolution in 
 the habits of mankind. We to-day behold the dawn of 
 an extraordinary age. Freed from the chains of ancient 
 thought and superstition, man has begun to win the most 
 extraordinary victories in the domain of Science. One by 
 one he has dispelled the doubts of the ancient world. 
 
 23 
 
34G VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 Nothing is too difficult for his hand to attempt — no region 
 too remote — no place too sacred for his daring eye to pene- 
 trate. He has robbed the Earth of her secrets and sought 
 to solve tlie mysteries of the Heavens ! He has secured and 
 chained to his service the elemental forces of Nature — he 
 has made the fire his steed — the winds his ministers — the 
 seas his pathway — the lightning his messenger. He has 
 descended into the bowels of the Earth and walked in 
 safety on the bottom of the sea. He has raised his head 
 above the clouds and made the impalpable air his resting- 
 j)lace. He has tried to analyze the stars, count the constel- 
 lations, and weigh the Sun. He has advanced with such 
 astounding speed that, breathless, we have reached a mo- 
 ment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated, 
 time made as naught, the invisible seen, the inaudible 
 heard, the unspeakable spoken, the intangible felt, the im- 
 possible accomplished. And already we knock at the door 
 of a new century Avhich promises to be infinitely brighter 
 and more enlightened and happier than this. But in all 
 this blaze of light which illuminates the present and casts 
 its reflection into the distant recesses of the past, there is 
 not a single ray that shoots into the Future. Not one step 
 have we taken toward the solution of the mystery of Life. 
 That remains to-day as dark and unfathomable as it was * 
 
 ten thousand years ago. 
 
 We know that we are more fortunate than our fathers. 
 We believe that our children shall be happier than we. AVe < 
 
 know that this century is more enlightened than the last. ^ 
 
 We hope that the time to come will be better and more ,< 
 
 glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but 
 we do not know. Across that threshold we may not pass ; 
 behind that veil we may not penetrate. Into that country 
 it may not be for us to go. It may be vouchsafed to us to 
 
VALLEY FORGE. 347 
 
 behold it, wonderingly, from afar, but never to enter in. It 
 matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in the 
 endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon 
 the shore ; our voices like the breath of this summer breeze 
 that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. Whence 
 we have come and whither we shall go not one of us can 
 tell. And the last survivor of this mighty multitude shall 
 stay but a little while. 
 
 But in the impenetrable To Be, the endless generations 
 are advancing to take our places as we fall. For them as 
 for us shall the Earth roll on and the seasons come and go, 
 the snowflakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be 
 gathered in. For them as for us shall the Sun, like the life 
 of man, rise out of darkness in the morning and sink into 
 darkness in the niffht. For them as for us shall the vears 
 march by in the sublime procession of the ages. And here, 
 in this place of Sacrifice, in this vale of Humiliation, in this 
 valley of the Shadow of that Death, out of which the Life 
 of America rose, regenerate and free, let us believe with an 
 abiding faith, that to them Union will seem as dear and 
 Liberty as sweet and Progress as glorious as they were to 
 our fathers and are to you and me, and that the Institutions 
 which have made us happy, preserved by the virtue of our 
 children, shall bless the remotest generations of the time to 
 come. And unto Him, who holds in the hollow of His 
 hand the fate of nations, and yet marks the sparrow's fall, 
 let us lift up our hearts this day, and into His eternal care 
 commend ourselves, our children, and our country. 
 
ORATION 
 
 COMPOSED TO BE DELIVERED AT 
 
 FREEHOLD, NEW JERSEY, JUNE 28, 1878, 
 
 THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 
 
ORATION. 
 
 It is your fortune, men of Monmouth, to dwell upon 
 historic ground. Yonder by the sea are the hills on which 
 Hendrik Hudson gazed before he beheld the great river 
 which still bears his name. Around you are the towns and 
 villages whose settlements recall the days of Carteret and 
 Berkeley. The name of your pleasant country takes the 
 imagination back to the gay court of Charles the Second 
 and his favorite and ill-fated son — and year after year you 
 gather the ripened grain from one of the most famous fields 
 in the long fight for Liberty. Your sires were a patriotic 
 race. When the struggle with Great Britain had begun 
 and the gallant town of Boston lay suifering and in chains, 
 the men of Monmouth County sent on October 12, 1774, 
 twelve hundred bushels of rye and fifty barrels of rye 
 meal to their suffering brethren, with a letter in which I 
 find these words : " We rely under God upon the firmness 
 and resolution of your people, and earnestly hope they will 
 never think of receding from the glorious ground they 
 stand upon while the blood of Freedom runs in their 
 veins."* So wrote the Jerseymen of Monmouth in the 
 beginning of the trouble, and when the war broke out they 
 
 * Collections of Massachusetts Historical Society, 4th Series, vol. 
 iv. p. 110. 
 
 351 
 
352 MONMOUTH. 
 
 did not wait for their enemy to come, but armed themselves 
 and went to meet him. 
 
 Sons of such sires, in full enjoyment of all they gained 
 for you, you can celebrate with a light heart to-day, the 
 28th of June. The glory of that day belongs to all your 
 countrymen alike, but the place that witnessed it belongs to 
 you. The place — the time — this inspiring throng, would 
 stir colder blood than his who speaks to you ; and even if 
 all else were calm within me, here and now I must still 
 feel tingling within my veins the drops of blood which I 
 inherit from one whose patriotic heart boiled within him at 
 the hedgerow on the Parsonage farm an hundred years ago. 
 And I must not forget that my duty is chiefly introductory. 
 My task to-day is to describe the battle. It is hard to 
 describe a fight, especially one so full of strange and con- 
 tradictory stories, nor is it easy to cram into an hour's 
 speech the deeds of a day so long and glorious. With me 
 you shall fight that battle over again. Others shall follow 
 me to charm you with their eloquence, but for the hour that 
 I stand here to-day, the Battle of Monmouth shall be the 
 orator. I pray you, then, my countrymen, to listen, and to 
 give me your attention and your patience. 
 
 The British and American armies during the winter of 
 1777-78 presented the most extraordinary contrast in mil- 
 itary history. The troops of Washington were encamped 
 in huts at Valley Forge, without clothes, or shoes, or 
 blankets, and some of the time without food even of the 
 simplest kind. The army of Howe lay snugly ensconced 
 in Philadelphia, protected by strong entrenchments, thor- 
 oughly equipped, well fed, well clothed, and in direct com- 
 munication with New York and England. At one time 
 the hardships of the winter had reduced the Americans from 
 eleven or twelve thousand to five thousand and twelve men. 
 
MONMOUTH. 353 
 
 The British marched into Philadelphia with more than nine- 
 teen thousand, and at no time had less than twelve ready for 
 the field.* "Two marches on the fine Lancaster road," said 
 Lafiiyette, " by establishing the English in the rear of" the 
 American " right flank, would have rendered their position 
 untenable, from which, however, they had no means of 
 retiring. The unfortunate soldiers were in want of every- 
 thing. . . . From want of money they could neither obtain 
 provisions nor any means of transport." They " frequently 
 remained whole days without" food. " The sight of their 
 misery prevented new engagements — it was almost impossi- 
 ble to levy recruits."t From December till the middle of 
 March their situation continued to be desperate, and at any 
 time during that period resistance to a vigorous attack by 
 Sir William Howe would have been impossible. But that 
 which rendered their sufferings so severe, protected them. 
 The weather was extremely cold, the ice immensely thick, 
 the highways blocked with snow. Philadelphia furnished 
 attractive quarters — it would be as easy to disperse the rebels 
 next week as to-morrow. They had been often beaten in 
 the field, and could be at any time — their submission was 
 simply a question of a few months — it would be best to wait 
 till spring. So reasoned the English commander, and the 
 opportunity slipped by forever. Little did he understand 
 the value to the rebels of those winter days. Little did he 
 know while his officers feasted and gambled and rioted in 
 Philadelphia, that yonder up the Schuylkill those ragged, 
 half-starved rebels were drilling and practising and growing 
 into an effective and veteran army. January and February 
 
 * In March, 1778, they were nineteen thousand five hundred and 
 thirty strong. Vide Sparks, vol. v. p. 542. 
 f Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 
 
354 MONMOUTH. 
 
 went by while the British were amusing themselves and 
 the Americans working hard ; INIarch and April came and 
 went, and still there were feasting and frolic in Philadel- 
 phia, and fasting and labor at Valley Forge. But the 
 change had come. Greene had been appointed Quarter- 
 master, Steuben Inspector, the intrigues of Mr. Conway and 
 his friends been exposed and brought to naught, the last 
 attempt at conciliation without independence had been re- 
 jected by the Congress, and with the early days of May had 
 arrived the news of the alliance of America and France. 
 It was a rude awakening for the British army after its 
 winter's debauch to find itself master solely of the ground 
 it occupied, the King respected only where his army was — 
 the rebels stronger and better disciplined than ever, and 
 encouraged by the news from Europe that seemed to loyal 
 ears so distressing. The campaign of 1777 had accom- 
 plished nothing — the victories of Howe had been fruitless 
 — the defeats of Burgoyne disastrous — the winter in the 
 rebel capital fatal to the royal cause. Not one prediction 
 of loyal prophets had come true. Defeat had neither dis- 
 heartened nor destroyed the rebel army — the loss of the 
 capital had transferred to a distant village instead, of dis- 
 persing the Continental Congress — the power of the Re- 
 bellion remained unbroken, its heart alive, its limbs more 
 vigorous than ever. In a word, Philadelphia had proved 
 a second Capua, and the saying of shrewd Franklin had 
 come true : " Sir William Howe had not taken Philadel- 
 phia — Philadelphia had taken Sir William Howe."* 
 
 The announcement of the treaty between France and the 
 Americans, followed by the news of a declaration of war 
 
 * Parton's Life of Franklin, vol. ii. p. 281. There quoted from 
 Bowring's Bentham, vol. x. p. 527. 
 
MONMOUTH. 355 
 
 against Great Britain, was of sinister importance to the 
 British in Philadelpliia. Threatenal by a hostile army, 
 and surrounded as they were by an enemy's country, a 
 French fleet at the mouth of the Delaware would put them 
 in great peril. The time for conquest had gone by ; it had 
 become now a question of escape and safety. The season 
 was too far advanced for an attack on the camp at Valley 
 Forge. The army of Washington had been largely in- 
 creased, and his naturally strong position strengthened 
 since the winter ceased. The country swarmed with scouts 
 and partisans and spies. The vigilance of the Americans 
 was untiring : McLane and Harry Lee kept the neighbor- 
 hood of the city in constant agitation — the banks of the 
 Delaware might at any time intercept the shipping — the 
 French fleet would perhaps soon arrive — to remain in 
 Philadelphia would increase the danger. What was to be 
 done ? An escape to New York across the Jerseys seemed 
 the only chance, and the sooner that was attempted the 
 better. On the 11th of May, Howe announced to the 
 army his departure for Europe and the appointment of Sir 
 Henry Clinton to the command.* On the 14th it was or- 
 dered that the heavy baggage should be made ready. f On 
 the 20th the " several corps were directed to put on board 
 their transports every kind of baggage they could possibly 
 do without in the field,"J and five days later — "to send 
 on board their baggage-ships the women and children and 
 the men actually unfit to march."§ The preparations for 
 departure were rapidly and well made, and on the 17th of 
 
 * Manuscript Ordei-ly Book of the British Army found on the field 
 of Monmouth. A transcript is in the Library of the Historical So- 
 ciety of Pennsylvania. 
 
 flbid. " Jlbid. Ubid. 
 
356 MONMOUTH. 
 
 June, at four iu the morning, Lieutenant-General Knyp- 
 hausen and General Grant crossed the river with a large 
 division and all the wagons and baggage.* At daybreak on 
 the 18tli the remainder of the army followed them. The 
 departure was hurried and almost noiseless.f The troops 
 marched down toward League Island and were ferried over 
 to Gloucester Point. " They did not go away," wrote an 
 eye-witness, " they vanished."^ It must have seemed so to 
 some of them who came near being left behind. The Hon. 
 Cosmo Gordon, on that memorable morning, rose for an 
 instant into the notice of posterity, as he sprang out of bed, 
 belated, and hurried to the wharf in search of a boat to 
 take him into Jersey. Hardly had he found one and 
 started for the other side when Allen McLane's light-horse- 
 men came galloping into town.§ That night the British 
 army encamped at Haddonfield.H It consisted of about 
 fourteen thousand men. A few of the Hessians, the sick, 
 the camp-followers, and the Tory refugees, of whom there 
 were a number, had embarked on the ships in the river 
 destined for New York. Notwithstanding the strict and 
 repeated orders to the contrary, the camp-followers were 
 numerous, and the train of baggage nearly twelve miles 
 long.^ On the morning of the 19th Clinton moved with 
 three brigades to Evesham, eight miles from Haddonfield, 
 
 * Manuscript Orderly Book, supra, p. 355. 
 
 t Bell's Journal: New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
 vol. vi. p. 15. 
 
 X Du Simitiere to Colonel Lamb. Vide Life of John Lamb, p. 213. 
 
 § Recollections of a Lady: Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. 
 ii. p. 286. 
 
 II Bell's Journal: New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
 vol. vi. p. 15, 
 
 \ Clinton's Letter to Lord George Germaine : Lee Papers, vol. ii. 
 p. 463. 
 
MONMOUTH. 357 
 
 Leslie commanding the advance, and Knypliauseii following 
 with the Hessians and two brigades of British.* The 
 country had by this time become alarmed. The militia 
 had sprung to arms in all quarters of the State. Familiar 
 as they had been with the presence of the enemy from the 
 beginning of the war, the Jerseymen had become proficient 
 in partisan warfare. The State was thoroughly patriotic. 
 It had suffered more perhaps than any other from the dep- 
 redations of the enemy. Beginning in 1776, the armies 
 had crossed and re-crossed from the Hudson to the Dela- 
 ware, and at no period of the struggle was the soil of New 
 Jersey destined to be free from the irruptions of the Brit- 
 ish. The wise and patriotic Livingston, who was then the 
 governor, had foreseen the danger of a new invasion, and 
 prepared to meet it, and the tramp of Clinton's army was 
 the signal at which the armed yeomen sprung as it were out 
 of the very ground. Philemon Dickinson, of Trenton, 
 their commander, prepared to harass the enemy at every 
 point, and detached bodies were ordered to break the 
 bridges in their way and hang upon their flanks and rear. 
 Hardly had tlie advance-guard left Haddonfield, on the 
 19th, before it was attacked by a body of militia, and a 
 sharp skirmish followed.f On the 20th Clinton reached 
 Mount Holly,! on the 22d the Black Horse, seven miles 
 farther on.§ At five in the morning of the 23d he moved 
 to Crosswicks.y A lively skirmish delayed him at the 
 bridge across the creek ; but the next day he arrived at 
 Allentown.^ Up to this point tiie British commander 
 had been uncertain whether to push to New York by the 
 way of Brunswick, or turn eastward and seek the protection 
 
 * Bell's Journal : New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
 vol. vi. p. 15. 
 tibid. t Ibid. § Ibid., p. 16. || Ibid. U Ibid. 
 
358 
 
 MONMOUTH. 
 
 of the fleet at SaiKly Hook. The information which he 
 gained at Crosswicks decided him. The whole American 
 army had crossed the Delaware and was advancing in his 
 front* 
 
 Washington had lost no time. Convinced tliat the 
 British wonld soon evacnatc Philadelphia and try to (!ross 
 the JerseySjt he had issued orders to prepare for the con- 
 tingency nearly three weeks before. For the past fortnight 
 he had had everything in readiness.^ On the 1 8th of June, 
 at eleven a.m., the news reached him that the enemy had 
 gone.§ At three o'clock Charles Lee, with Poor's, Hunting- 
 ton's, and Varnum's brigades, crossed the Schuylkill in full 
 march for Coryell's Ferry, and at five Wayne followed with 
 three brigades of Pennsylvanians.|| Tlie Jersey brigade of 
 Maxwell had already been ordered to join General Dickinson 
 and co-operate in his efforts to detain the enemy.^ On the 
 19th Washington followed with the whole army.** The 
 heat was intolerable, the weather rainy, and the roads bad. ft 
 It was not until the 21st that the army was safely over the 
 river and encamped in Jersey.|| The British were approach- 
 ing Crosswicks. The country was alive with rumors and 
 excitement. The enemy were reported to be in force, with 
 
 * Clinton's Letter to Lord George Oermaine. Vide Lee Papers, 
 vol. ii. p. 4ri2. 
 
 f Sparks's Washington, vol. v. pp. 374, 376, 380, 381, 387. 
 
 X Lee Papers, vol. ii. pp. 40G-408. 
 
 § Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 409. 
 
 II Diary of Joseph Clark : New Jersey Historical Society's Pro- 
 ceedings, vol. vii. p. 106. 
 
 \ Sparks's Washington, vol. v. pp. 386-7. 
 *-;;- Washington to his brother: Ibid., p. 431. 
 
 tt Washington to President of Congress, June 28, 1778: Ibid., p. 
 420. 
 
 X% Washington to his brother: Ibid., p. 431. 
 
MONMOUTH. 359 
 
 an immense bao-rao-e-train and a host of followers, who com- 
 mitted all sorts of depredations as they marched.* Accounts 
 of plundered farms and burned homesteads came thick and 
 fast. Their slow adv^ance led Washington to think that they 
 wished a general action and sought to draw him into the 
 low country to the south and east. Detaching Morgan with 
 six hundred men to reinforce Maxwell and watch them 
 close at hand, he marched to Hopewell, where he remained 
 until the 25th. f Summoning a council of war, he put the 
 question whether a battle should be fought. Greene, La- 
 fayette, Du Portail, and Wayne urged, as one of them has 
 told us, "that it would be disgraceful and humiliating to 
 allow the enemy to cross the Jerseys in tranquillity"! — that 
 his rear might be attacked without serious risk, and that 
 he ought to be followed closely, and advantage taken of the 
 first favorable opportunity to attack him. But the majority 
 held other views. § It was argued that much was to be lost 
 by defeat and little gained by victory. That the French 
 alliance insured the final triumjjh of the cause, and it would 
 only be a risk to attempt a battle with the British army, 
 which several declared had never been so excellent or so 
 well disciplined. This view prevailed chiefly because of 
 the earnest eloquence and great reputation of him who urged 
 it on the council. 1| Charles Lee, the second in command, 
 was a native of England, and about forty-seven years of 
 age. An ensign in the British array at twelve, he had 
 risen to be lieutenant-colonel. He had served in the old 
 French war, and in Portugal against the Spanish, and at 
 
 * See letter in " Pennsylvania Packet" of July 14, 1778. 
 f Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 422. 
 X Memoirs of Lafayette, \ol. i. p. 51. § Ibid. 
 
 II Ibid., p. 50. Also Sparks, vol. v. p. 552. 
 
360 
 
 MONMOUTH. 
 
 one time had been a major-general in the Polish service. 
 Of unquestioned bravery, he had distinguished himself by 
 several exploits, which his excessive vanity would not suffer 
 to be forgotten. Taken at his own estimation rather than at 
 his real value, as such a man is apt to be, he had won without 
 a stroke of his sword the most exaggerated reputation 
 among the Americans for military genius and experience. 
 A soldier of fortune, he eared little at heart for the princi- 
 ples for which the colonies were contending, as the selfish 
 terms on wliicli he entered their employment showed, but 
 he had rendered the cause essential service, and enjoyed 
 a reputation second only to that of Washington. Indeed, 
 there were many who, a little while before, would have 
 been glad to have seen the names reversed, and some who 
 still felt with an anonymous writer, when at the moment 
 that Washington's virtues were keeping the army togetlier 
 at Valley Forge, he cried for " a Gates, a Lee, or a Con- 
 way." Accustomed to be revered as an authority, Lee 
 spoke with earnestness and even eloquence. He had lately 
 returned from more than a year's captivity. He was ac- 
 quainted with the character of Clinton. He knew the effi- 
 ciency of the British army — he had had great experience 
 in war. His courage was known, his character trusted, his 
 fidelity unquestioned, his arguments ingenious, his language 
 eloquent. His views prevailed, and it was decided only 
 to harass the enemy. Charles Scott of Virginia was sent 
 forward to join Dickinson, and the army marched to Kings- 
 ton.* But after the council had dissolved Hamilton, La- 
 fayette, and Greene urged more vigorous measures ; some 
 of the others changed their minds — the chief himself in- 
 clined to run the risk, and it was decided to seek battle.f 
 
 * Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 423. 
 f Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 51. 
 
MONMOUTH. 361 
 
 Accordingly, on the 25tli, tliree thousand men were ordered 
 to join Scott and approach the enemy.* The command of 
 this body naturally belonged to Lee. But disgusted at the 
 altered plan, that officer declined to undertake it, and it was 
 given to Lafayette. Hardly had the latter marched, how- 
 ever, when Lee changed his mind. The detachment was a 
 separate command — he would be criticised if he allowed a 
 junior to assume it — he besought Washington to let him 
 have it after all.f Disturbed by this and anxious not to 
 wound Lafayette, the Commander-in-Chief settled the 
 difficulty by giving Lee a thousand men, with orders to 
 overtake the former, when his seniority would give him 
 command of the whole.J; 
 
 This was on the 26th of June. On the morning before, 
 the British march at five o'clock had revealed what Sir 
 Henry Clinton had decided to do. Finding Washington 
 approaching, he turned eastward and made for Sandy Hook. 
 Sending the baggage forward under Knyphausen, he fol- 
 lowed slowly with the main part of his army.§ On the 
 27th he encamped at Monmouth Court-House.|| Meantime 
 the Americans had not been idle. All the way from Cross- 
 wicks, Dickinson and Morgan had hung upon the British 
 flanks.^ The main American army had been detained at 
 Cranberry by rain, and the advance retarded by want of 
 provisions (Wayne's detachment obliged to halt at mid-day 
 
 * Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 413. Also Lafayette's Memoirs, vol. i. 
 p. 51. 
 
 t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 417. 
 
 X Sparks, vol. v. pp. 418-19. 
 
 § Clinton to Lord George Germaine. Vide Lee Papers, vol. ii. 
 p. 462. 
 
 II Manuscript Orderly Book. 
 
 1[ Washington to President of Congress. Vide Sparks, vol. v, 
 p. 424. 
 
 24 
 
362 MONMOUTH. 
 
 on the 26th because it was " abnost starving"),* but on the 
 morning of the 27th Lafayette and Lee eifected ajunctionf 
 between Cranberry and Englishtown. The two armies 
 were now less than five miles apart. It was evident to the 
 commanders of both that the last moment for a battle had 
 arrived. A few miles beyond Monmouth the British would 
 reach the high ground of Middletowu, when it would be 
 impossible to cut them off and dangerous to follow. J If a 
 blow was to be struck, now or never was the time. The 
 orders of Washington were explicit. On the afternoon of 
 the 27th he sent for Lee and the brigadiers of his com- 
 mand, told them he wished the enemy to be attacked 
 next morning, and desired General Lee to concert with 
 his subordinates some plan of action. Five o'clock was 
 named as the time for a conference, but when the officers 
 called, Lee dismissed them with the remark that it was 
 not possible to make a plan beforehand.§ The advance 
 lay for the night at Englishtown, the main body of the 
 Americans three miles farther to the westward. The 
 British were encamped along the road, their right resting 
 on the forks of the roads to Middletown and Shrewsbury, 
 the baggage in charge of the Hessians placed near the 
 Court-House, the left extending toward Allentown about 
 three miles. || The little village of Monmouth Court- 
 House had grown up at the intersection of three roads — 
 
 * Hamilton to Washington : Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 420. 
 
 t Ogden's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 65. 
 
 X Sparks, vol. v. p. 425. 
 
 ^ Testimony of Generals Scott and Wayne : Lee Papers, vol. iii. 
 pp. 2, 4. [The "Lee Papers" to which frequent reference is made 
 in this oration are papers relating to Lee's trial by court-martial, 
 published by the New York Historical Society. — Ed.] 
 
 11 Sparks, vol. v. p. 424. 
 
MONMOUTH. 363 
 
 that on wliicli the Britisli were marching, another which led 
 northward toward Amboy, and a third which came from 
 Englishtown and Cranberry. A few honses clustered about 
 the wooden Court-House, wliich stood on the spot where we 
 are gathered to-day. Long settled as the country had been, 
 much of it remained uncleared. The undulating plain 
 through which the road ran northeastwardly to Middletown 
 was open, but the way to Cranberry soon after leaving the 
 Court-House plunged into woods, which lined it for several 
 miles. 
 
 It was the night of Saturday, the 27th of June. Imag- 
 ine, if you can, the scene : the little village about the Court- 
 House, full of soldiers in scarlet — the baggage-wagons 
 drawn together in the open ground to the southward — the 
 crackling of the fires as the troops get supper — the neighing 
 of many horses picketed along the road — here an officer 
 riding by, there a guard marching to its post — tlie hum of 
 voices — the innumerable noises of the camp growing fainter 
 as the evening draws on — and at last the quiet of the sum- 
 mer night, broken only by the steady footfalls of the senti- 
 nels and the barking of a dog at some distant farm-house 
 or the stamping of some restless horse. Who can foresee 
 that to-morrow a deed shall be done that shall consecrate 
 for all time this quiet Jersey village, and that the bene- 
 dictions of a grateful people shall descend forever upon 
 Monmouth Court-House ! 
 
 By ten o'clock all is hushed. It is a hot night, w^ithout 
 a breath of wind. The woods in the northwest are as still 
 as death, their leaves drooping and motionless, and the 
 summer sky is unobscured by a single cloud. A sharp 
 lookout is kept down the road and on the edge of the 
 woods towards Englishtown, for in the afternoon a deserter 
 has come in with the information that " the rebels ai'e ex- 
 
364 MONMOUTH. 
 
 tended along our left flank, and are very numerous."* But 
 the darkness passes without the sign of an enemy. At the 
 early dawn there is bustle and noise in the camp about the 
 Court-House. The reveille sounds and the Hessians are 
 astir. The air is full of the noise of neighing horses and 
 chattering men. The baggage- wagons begin to move into 
 the road to Middletown, the line of march is formed, and 
 as the sun rises, about half-past four, Knyphausen's division 
 has begun to move.f Five o'clock comes, and with it day- 
 light. The fresh breath of the morning is pleasant after 
 the hot night, but the cloudless sky and the heavy air 
 jiromise a trying day. All along the road the camp is 
 stirring, the different regiments forming into line — the Light 
 Infantry and Hessian Grenadiers on the right, the Guards, 
 the First and Second Grenadiers, the Highlanders, the loyal 
 battalions, and the Queen's Rangers each in turn. At six 
 the hot day has begun, but it is nearly eight before the 
 column has started. It is a splendid sight, and one that 
 this quiet county will never see again, this perfectly-ap- 
 pointed army moving with its long train of artillery and 
 baggage along the road. Here is the Hessian : "a towering, 
 brass-fronted cap, mustaches covered with the same material 
 that colors his shoes, his hair, plastered with tallow and 
 flour, tightly drawn into a long appendage reaching from 
 the back of his head to his waist, his blue uniform almost 
 covered by the broad belts sustaining his cartouch-box, his 
 brass-hilted "feword, and his bayonet; a yellow waistcoat 
 with flaps, and yellow breeches met at the knee by black 
 
 * Bell's Journal : New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
 vol. vi. p. 17. 
 
 f Testimony of Captain Mercer : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 102 ; also 
 Clinton's Letter to Lord George Germaine, vol. ii. p. 463. 
 
MONMOUTH. 365 
 
 gaiters — thus heavily equipped/'* he moves " like an autom- 
 aton" down the road. See the British Grenadier, tall and 
 stalwart, with smooth-shaven face and powdered hair, on 
 his head a pointed cap of black leather fronted with a 
 gilded ornament — his coat of scarlet, with collar and cuffs 
 of buif trimmed with red — a broad, white leather strap 
 over the left shoulder carrying his cartridge-box — one over 
 the right bears his bayonet-scabbard which hangs at his 
 left thigh, and where they cross on his breast there is a 
 plate of brass with the number of his regiment. His 
 breeches of white are protected by long black leggins.f 
 The accoutrements of all are in perfect order, their equip- 
 ment complete, and one after another the regiments break 
 into column and march toward the east. The sun has 
 already risen above the high ground near the sea, the birds 
 that have been twittering in the branches have ceased to 
 sing — Knyphausen with the long train of heavily lumber- 
 ing baggage has crossed the open plain, and still the lines 
 of scarlet are passing by the little Court-House. Where 
 are the Americans ? — the chance to fight a battle is almost 
 gone. 
 
 Somewhere in that still and silent wood Dickinson's 
 militia have been w^atching through the night. With the 
 first noise in the British camp they are alert. No move- 
 ment of the enemy escapes them, and as Knyphausen be- 
 gins his march a messenger gallops off at full speed through 
 the woods. He dashes into camp at five o'clock. An 
 order is at once sent to General Lee to follow and attack 
 "unless there should be very powerful reasons to the 
 
 * Diinlap's History of the American Theatre, London, vol. i. pp. 
 85-6. 
 
 t Moorsom's History of the Fifty-second Regiment. 
 
366 MONMOUTH. 
 
 contrary,"* and the main army is ordered under arms. 
 Meantime Lee has liis detachment ready. Butler of 
 Pennsylvania with two hundred men marches first; Scott's 
 brigade and a part of Woodford's, about six hundred, fol- 
 low ; Varnum's brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel Olney, 
 six hundred strong ; Wayne's detachment of one thousand ; 
 Scott with another of fourteen hundred, and Maxwell with 
 about one thousand bringing up the rear. Distributed ^ } 
 
 among these are twelve pieces of artillery.f At seven 
 o'clock the advance has reached the old Presbyterian 
 Church on the side of the road, east of Englishtown, and 
 is distant from the British about three miles. A road 
 nearly straight leads from this point to the Court-House. 
 Let us take a look at the country that lies between. It is 
 a rolling country, well covered with timber. Just beyond 
 the Church, as one goes towards Monmouth, the road de- i 
 
 scends a hill and crosses a morass, through which a stream " 
 
 of water flows toward the south and west. A long causeway 
 of logs has made the place passable,! and on the eastern side 
 the hill rises quickly to a considerable elevation. The road 
 now continues through a piece of timber, which is large 
 and heavy on the left, but just beyond the edge of it, on 
 the right, are the open fields of three farms, known as 
 Tennent's, Wikoif's, and Carr's. The two latter are di- 
 vided by a deep ravine, which crosses the road at right 
 angles, about half-way between the causeway and the Court- 
 House. The wood on the left extends almost to the village, 
 and covers the side of a bluff wdiich forms the western 
 
 * Testimony of Lieutenant-Colonel Meade : Lee Papers, vol. iii. 
 pp. 7, 8 ; also of Captain Mercer, p. 102. 
 
 f Testimony of Wayne : Ibid., p. 22. 
 
 J Ralph Schenck's statement. Vide Historical Magazine, 1861, 
 vol. V. p. 220. 
 
MONMOUTH. 3g7 
 
 boundary of the plain of Monmouth. Beneath this bluff, 
 running due north from the Court-House, is a deep and 
 almost impassable morass. There are but three houses be- 
 tween the Church, at which the advance has halted, and the 
 village, the first called the Parsonage, in the open field, just 
 after one ascends the hill, and the second and third, known 
 as Wikoif 's and Carr's, on the western and eastern sides of 
 the ravine that separates them. The morass westward of 
 the Parsonage begins more than a mile to the northeast, and, 
 following the stream which makes it, sweeps around between 
 the hills to the southeast, where it joins another that runs 
 westwardly. It is a bog a couple of hundred yards in 
 width, deep and impassable, save at the causeway. The 
 distance from the Court-House to the ravine between Carr's 
 house and Wikoif 's is about a mile ; to the causeway, across 
 the large morass, a trifle more than two miles. Such is the 
 country that separates the armies.* As the advance under 
 Lee approaches the long causeway, a few scattering shots are 
 heard and it is halted. Scott's brigade have advanced up 
 the morass, the rest formed upon the western hill.f A few of 
 Dickinson's militia, down the road tow^ard the Court-House, 
 have encountered a flanking party of the British. As the 
 troops halt, a stout, ruddy-faced officer rides up. It is 
 Anthony Wayne, whom Lee has summoned to command 
 the advance. There is a report that the enemy are near. 
 Wayne takes his spy-glass, but can discover only a party of 
 the country people.| Dickinson comes in haste to Lee. He 
 is sure that the enemy are marching from the Court-House. 
 Lee doubts the story, but orders a brigade to form at the 
 left, facing a road by which Dickinson expects the enemy. § 
 
 * IMap in Carrington's Battles of the American Revolution. 
 
 t Wayne's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 18. % Ibid. I Ibid. 
 
368 
 
 MONMOUTH. 
 
 But the intelligence is contradictory, and, after a few min- 
 utes' delay, Lee in impatience pushes the troops forward 
 across the causeway. 
 
 Down the road toward the Court-House they move 
 rapidly, marching briskly in spite of the heat, which by 
 this time has become oppressive. They are a sad contrast 
 to the well-equipped enemy they go to meet. They have 
 no uniforms. Linen shirts and coats of butternut, home 
 spun, and made, and dyed, are the best among them, and 
 few have these. '' They are so nearly naked that it is a 
 shame to bring them into the field,"* says Major Jameson of 
 Maryland, and Lee complains that tliey have no uniforms, 
 colors, or marks to distinguish the regiments from each other. 
 But they march well and with a soldierly air, thanks to 
 the training of Steuben at Valley Forge. About half-past 
 eight o'clock they approach the Court-House. The rear- 
 guard of the British has passed through it, but a party of 
 both infantry and horse are drawn up in the open ground 
 to the north westward, t The Americans halt under cover 
 of the woods, and Lee and Wayne ride forward to recon- 
 noitre. A messenger stops Lee, and Wayne goes on alone.| 
 There appear to be about five hundred foot, and in front 
 of them three hundred horsemen — the famous Queen's 
 Rangers Hussars, under the command of Lieutenant-Col- 
 onel Simcoe.§ Wayne orders Butler out of the woods 
 into the open close to the Court-House. The enemy slowly 
 retire as the Americans approach. A few of Butler's men 
 fire, and the Rangers fall back with the infantry pre- 
 
 * Bland Papers, vol. i. p. 97. 
 
 t Wayne's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 18. % Ibid. 
 
 § Siracoe's Journal, p. 68; also Bell's Journal: New Jersey His- 
 torical Society's Proceedings, vol. vi. p. 17. 
 
MONMOUTH. 369 
 
 cipitately into the village.* Long shall that spot be neg- 
 lected and forgotten, but the time shall come when, on 
 another 28th of June, the sons of America, beneath peaceful 
 skies, shall build with pious services upon that sloping field 
 a monument to mark forever the place where the first shot 
 was fired and the Battle of Monmouth was begun ! And 
 now, as the enemy are apparently moving rapidly oif into 
 the plain, Butler files to the left of their left flank, and 
 sends word to Wayne that the enemy are retreating.f The 
 General, in reply, gallops up and halts the Pennsylvanians 
 in the edge of a wood, close to the Court-House, from which 
 they can see the British in regular order, horse, foot, and 
 artillery, retreating toward the eastward. It is evident 
 that they are leaving the ground in haste. Meantime the 
 detachments of Scott, Grayson, and Varnum have halted 
 on the side of the morass which bounds the plain of Mon- 
 mouth,! half a mile or more to the northward of the position 
 of AYayne and Butler. From all these points the enemy 
 can be seen moving rapidly out of the village across the open 
 plain. § Hot-headed Wayne grows impatient. At the edge 
 of the wood he has found a place where the morass can be 
 crossed, and orders Butler forward. At the same moment a 
 swarthy man on horseback gallops up to Lee. He has been 
 near the enemy, and is sure they are a rear-guard of only 
 one thousand men — considerably separated from the main 
 body. He offers to take a detachment and double their 
 riffht flank. It is black David Foreman — commander of 
 
 * Butler's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 44. 
 t Ilnd. 
 
 % Scott's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 28; also Grayson's, p. 36; 
 Olney's, p. 127 ; Lee's, p. 182. 
 
 I Wayne's Testimony : Ibid., p. 20. 
 
370 
 
 MONMOUTH. 
 
 the Monmouth County militia — the terror of the Tories.* 
 Lee spitefully replies, " I know my business," and Fore- 
 man retires in disgust.t But what is that business ? Surely 
 not to let the enemy move away under his guns as if upon 
 parade. The precious moments are flying — tiie Rangers in 
 the rear-guard are half a mile out of the village already, 
 continuing their march, when Captain Mercer, of Lee's 
 staff, rides up to him. He has been down the road toward 
 the Court-IIouse, and has seen a large encampment of the 
 enemy, which they have just left, for the chairs are stand- 
 ing and water lies there freshly spilt ; a countryman tells 
 him that there is a strong force, about two thousand, still 
 behind the Court-House.| " Then I shall take them," says 
 Lee,§ and orders the detachments on the left to march 
 into the plain, to turn their right. They quit the woods, 
 descend the bluff, cross the morass, and advance nearly 
 half a mile into the plain — Grayson's in advance, Jackson's 
 a hundred yards behind, Scott's next to Jackson's, and Maxj 
 well's Jerseymen in the rear, on the outer edge of the morass. 
 Wayne is now far in front in the open ground. On his right, 
 on a little elevation, he has posted Eleazer Oswald, with 
 two guns.ll Varnum's brigade, of the Rhode Island line, 
 is on the left, Butler's regiment in front, in the rear of all 
 Wesson, Livingston, and Stewart. Suddenly the enemy halt 
 and form in line of battle. A regiment of cavalry sup- 
 ported by infantry advance towards Butler, and several guns 
 to the eastward open fire. Oswald replies effectively with 
 his two pieces on the height, and Butler prepares to receive 
 an attack. Down come the British cavalry in full charge. 
 
 * Barber and Howe's Historical Collection of New Jersey, p. 
 t Foreman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 25. 
 :|: Mercers Testimony: Ibid., p. 106. | Ibid. 
 
 II Oswald's Testimony : Ibid., pp. 132-3. 
 
 546. 
 
MONMOUTH. 371 
 
 Butler reserves ]iis fire till tliey are near, -wlieii a well-di- 
 rected volley breaks them, and they retire in disorder through 
 the infantry, throwing them into confusion.* At this the 
 British suddenly turn back and march towards the Court- 
 House. They appear very strong; it is evident that the 
 whole rear division has returned to ])revent a demonstration 
 against the baggage. Wayne sends to Lee for more troops. 
 Lee ansAvers that it is a feint,f and that he does not wish the 
 enemy to be vigorously attacked until his flank is exposed. 
 The British approach the Court-House in great force. Lee 
 directs Lafayette to fall back to the Court-House with the 
 brigade of Varnum, and Stewart's and Livingston's regi- 
 ments.| Wayne, meantime, is chafing with impatience. The 
 enemy are crossing his front — he cannot get trooj)s enough 
 to strike them with effect, and Oswald's ammunition has 
 given out.§ Just at this moment General Scott rides up — a 
 hot-headed Virginian, as gallant and full of fight as Wayne 
 himself. From his command on the left, far out in the 
 plain, he has seen the troops under Lafiiyette apparently 
 retreating toward the Court-House. Alarmed at this, and 
 having tried in vain to get his cannon across the morass, 
 he has ordered his men to retire behind it and form in the 
 woods beyond, from which they came. Here he has left 
 them, and galloped down to learn what is the matter.|| 
 Wayne is in equal wonderment. One of his aides has just 
 come from General Lee with the startling information that 
 the whole right is falling back in haste from the Court- 
 House : but he brings no orders. Together Scott and 
 
 * Butler's Testimony : LeePapers, vol.iii.p. 44; also Wayne's, p. 20. 
 
 t Lee's Defence : Ibid., p. 194. 
 
 X Lafayette's Testimony: Ibid., p. 12. 
 
 § Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 134. 
 
 II Scott's Testimony : Ibid., p. 28. 
 
372 MONMO UTH. 
 
 Wayne ride there. The troops have already left. Wayne 
 sends an aide to Lee to beg that they might be ordered back 
 to the place from which they had retired, the enemy being 
 still a mile away. Major Fishbourne returns. He has found 
 General Lee, whose only answer is that he will see General 
 Wayne himself.* It is now about eleven o'clock. Furious 
 with disappointment, Wayne sends a third time. Will not 
 General Lee halt the main body to cover the retreat of Gen- 
 eral Scott? His aides return without an answer ;t the troops 
 are still retiring in some confusion nearly a mile in the rear, 
 in front of the ravine by Carr's House. The enemy are 
 close at hand. Wayne orders Butler out of the plain in 
 haste,;[; while he and Scott watch in the orchard near the 
 village. At this moment up gallops Richard Meade. He 
 is an aide of Washington's, and has ridden forward by the 
 General's orders at the first sound of the cannonading. He 
 has met the troops retreating in disorder near the defile by 
 Carr's House. There he has found General Lee, who tells 
 him that they are all in confusion, but has no message for 
 the Commander-in-Chief. Meade gallops to the village ; 
 the enemy are there, and already the head of their column 
 appears this side the Court-House.§ Scott hurries to his 
 command, 1 1 while Wayne retires slowly with Meade toward 
 Carr's House, pursued by the enemy's horsemen. The 
 British advance is now between Scott and the retreating 
 troops with Lee and Lafayette. A rapid march through 
 the woods to the northward alone enables the former to 
 
 * Fishbourne's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii.- pp. 47-8 ; also 
 Scott's, p. 28 ; and Wayne's, p. 21. 
 t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 440. 
 
 X Letter of Scott and Wayne to Washinifton : Ibid. 
 I'Meade's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 63. 
 II Letter of Scott and Wayne to Washington : Ibid., vol. ii. p. 440. 
 
MONMOUTH. 373 
 
 rejoin the array.* He comes out into the large morass, and 
 crosses it far to the north and eastward of the old Presby- 
 terian Church. Meantime, "wliat has become of General 
 Lee? Wlien the enemy first turned back in force he was 
 on the left, watching, with the intention of turning their 
 right flank. Observing them to approach in force, he di- 
 rected the troops on the right to retire and form near the 
 Court-House. Arrived there, and finding the position less 
 strong than he supposed, he gave orders to fall back.f 
 Confusion followed. The heat was intense. The men were 
 nearly fainting with fatigue. The horses of the aides-de- 
 camp could hardly stand. J Orders that were given were 
 not delivered, and orders were delivered that had never been 
 given by the General. Contradictory directions made mat- 
 ters worse. Near Carr's House a regiment was posted at a 
 fence, and presently withdrawn. Du Portail insisted that 
 the position here was a strong one. Lee declared that it 
 was execrable, and commanded by an eminence on the 
 British side.§ Back the troops kept falling — forming now 
 in line, and the next minute ordered to retire. No one 
 knew why or whither, nor did Lee take pains to check the 
 disorder. The officers were furious, the men dejected. 
 There had been no fighting to speak of — the enemy did not 
 seem dangerously strong — the chance to fight him on good 
 terms had appeared so favorable ; — it was inexplicable. It 
 is now nearly twelve o'clock. In front of the ravine near 
 Carr's House there is a temporary halt. General Lee him- 
 
 * Cilley's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 33. 
 
 t Lee's Defence: Ibid., p. 183. 
 
 % Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., p. Ill; Stewart's Testimony, p. 40 ; 
 Tilghman's Testimony, pp. 80-2. 
 
 § Du Portail's Testimony: Ibid., p. 139; also Lee's Defence, p. 
 184. 
 
374 MONMOUTH. 
 
 self orders Jackson's Massachusetts regiment to form behind 
 a fence, but hardly has it done so when he commands it to 
 retire beyond the ravine.* A part of Yarnum's brigade 
 halts for ten minutes in an orchard, but the enemy coming 
 on rapidly, they too retire beyond the ravine.f As the troops 
 are falling back a countryman rides up to General Lee. It 
 is Peter Wikoff, who lives in the farm-house between the 
 Parsonage and Carr's. He knows the country well — what 
 can he do? Lee asks him where there is a strong position 
 to which the army can retire. He points to the west and 
 south. But there is an almost impassable morass in the 
 way. It can be crossed on logs. Too late to make a bridge. 
 Beyond the causeway then there are high hills. Lee urges 
 him to ride back and halt some regiment on the ground.| 
 He gallops off at speed. All is disorder, the troops retiring 
 rapidly, so fagged with the heat that many faint. Here 
 is Olney, with the Rhode Islanders, crossing the ravine ; 
 yonder, near Carr's House, is Stewart of Pennsylvania, 
 keeping his panting men together ;§ the gallant Ramsey is 
 close at hand ;|| Maxwell has crossed the ravine, and is form- 
 ing his Jerseymen in the woods on the north of the road ;^ 
 while Oswald tries to get his guns across the defile.** 
 
 All is in uproar and confusion ; shouts of go back ! go 
 back ! drive on ! drive on Iff are heard above the din, and 
 all the while the dropping fire of musketry in the rear 
 shows that the enemy is close at hand. Five thousand men 
 
 * Jackson's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 124. 
 
 t Olney's Testimony: Ibid., p. 127. 
 
 X Wikoff 's Deposition : Ibid., pp. 172-3. 
 
 I Stewart's Testimony : Ibid., p. 40. 
 
 il Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 136. 
 
 ^ Maxwell's Testimony : Ibid., p. 92. 
 ** Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 135. 
 ft Jackson's Testimony: Ibid., p. 124; also Ogden's, p. 134. 
 
MONMOUTH. 375 
 
 have fallen back iu disorder nearly two miles, in the face 
 of a constant and vigorous pursuit. It is extraordinary 
 that there is no panic. But both men and officers are too 
 angry to be frightened ; there is no breaking of the ranks ; 
 no running among the troops — it is a sullen retreat. The 
 men halt at the first order, form like veterans, and only re- 
 tire when commanded to do so. Some faint with heat and 
 fall. All are panting for water — the sweat streaming from 
 them, their tongues dry and swollen, their faces flushed, 
 their eyes bloodshot. The horses are completely broken 
 down. Many refuse to carry their riders, and half of the 
 officers are on foot. And so through the hot wood and be- 
 neath the blazing sun, down one side of the ravine and up 
 the other, the regiments of Lee's command fall back in dis- 
 order along the road and through the fields of Wikoflf's 
 farm, towards the long causeway across the wide morass, on 
 the way to Englishtown. 
 
 The day that promised so w'ell has begun in disaster. 
 The Americans are in full retreat without a fight. Gray- 
 son's Marylanders and Patton's North Carolinians are about 
 to cross the causeway — a part of Jackson's Massachusetts 
 regiment, under Lieutenant- Colonel Smith, are close behind 
 them. Ogden's and Shreve's Jerseymen are descending the 
 hill — the heights are covered with the retreating regiments. 
 When suddenly down the western hill, toward the cause- 
 w^ay, come at full speed two horsemen. They are Fitzgerald 
 and Harrison, of the Commander-in-Chief's staff'.* Riding 
 with him, near the Presbyterian Church, they have met a 
 countryman on horseback. He has come, he says, from near 
 the Court-House, and has heard that our people were retreat- 
 ing. General Washington refuses to believe him, for he 
 
 * Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 80. 
 
376 MONMOUTH. 
 
 has heard no sound except a few discharges of cannon more 
 than an hour before. The man points to a fifer, who has 
 come up breathless. Yes, says the fifer, in aifright, the 
 Continental troops are in retreat. Vexed at the story, which 
 he cannot believe, the General orders the man into a light 
 horseman's charge and hurries forward.* Fifty paces down 
 the road he meets some stragglers — one of them has come 
 from the army. All the troops, he says, are falling back. 
 The thing looks serious, but still the General will not be- 
 lieve it true. He sends Harrison and Fitzgerald forward to 
 ascertain the facts. As they descend the hill they encounter 
 Grayson's men. Captain Jones declares that the troops be- 
 hind are in the same condition as his own.f Lieutenant- 
 Colonel Parke's men are in disorder.^ William Smith, of 
 Jackson's regiment, cannot imagine why they have retreated ; 
 he has lost but a single man.§ Beyond the causeway is 
 Aaron Ogden, " exceedingly exasperated," declaring with 
 an oath that " the troops are fleeing from a shadow." || 
 Shreve, of the next Jersey regiment, smiles bitterly; he 
 has retreated by order, but he knows not why. Rhea, his 
 lieutenant-colonel, cannot understand it, nor where to go.^f 
 Howell, his major, has never seen the like;** and on the 
 height General Maxwell confesses that he is wholly in the 
 dark.f t The aides push on toward Carr's House. Here Mer- 
 cer, of Lee's staif, says with warmth to Harrison, that if he 
 will ride to the Court-House he will find reason enough in 
 the numbers of the enemy ;|| but Wayne declares that it is 
 
 * Harrison's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 72; also Tilgh- 
 man's, p. 78. 
 
 t Harrison's Testimony : Ibid., p. 72. 
 
 X Ibid. § Ibid., p. 73. 1| Ibid. H Ibid. 
 
 ** Tilghnian's Testimony : Ibid., p. SO. 
 ft Harrison's Testimony: Ibid., p. 73. %% Ibid. 
 
MONMOUTH. 377 
 
 impossible to tell the cause of the retreat, for a very select 
 body of men have this day been drawn off from troops far 
 inferior in number.* And all this while General Lee sits 
 for twenty minutes by a fence, without giving an order or 
 making an attempt to stop the enemy.f One of the French 
 engineers comes to Fitzgerald — the ground he thinks very 
 advantageous for stopping the enemy ; he begs for two 
 pieces of cannon. Oswald has but four pieces left, the 
 others have retreated with their brigades, and his men are 
 so fatigued with heat that they are dropping beside the guns. 
 But he will post them here, and open on the enemy as they 
 approach from the village.| On come the British through 
 the open fields, in perfect order, marching in two columns, 
 their artillery and horse between them, and Lee retires has- 
 tily with some scattered troops beyond the ravine. They 
 are within quarter of a mile — the American rear just 
 crossing the ravine. The case is desperate. " The most 
 sanguine hope," says young Laurens, who has seen it all, 
 " scarcely extends ... to an orderly retreat."§ It is an awful 
 moment for America. Was it for this that these gallant 
 fellows bore the dull tortures of the winter ? Was it for 
 this that they have trudged through pouring rain and 
 torrid sun — now ankle-deep in mud and now with their 
 feet buried in the burning sand? Was it for this that 
 they have covered Charles Lee with confidence and honor, 
 and gone forth under him from happy homes to meet the 
 proudest army in the world ? 
 
 But see yonder in the west — beyond the long causeway 
 the troops have stopped retreating ! Grayson and Patton 
 
 * Harrison's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 74. 
 
 t Meade's Testimony: Ibid., p. 64. 
 
 X Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., pp. 135-6. 
 
 I Ibid., vol. ii. p. 450. 
 
 25 
 
378 MONMOUTH. 
 
 have halted half-way up ; on this edge of the morass 
 Ogden and Shreve are falling into line,* and on the crest 
 of the distant hill are the heads of columns, apparently 
 advancing. There is a sudden halt as down the hill dashes 
 a tall horseman. A group of officers try to follow, but he 
 rides too fast. Over the bridge and up the road he rushes 
 like the wind, his horse in a lather of sweat as he drives 
 the rowels in. Up the hill he comes as fast as his horse 
 can run, his manly figure and perfect horsemanship com- 
 manding admiration ; his face flushed with excitement, his 
 lips compressed, his often languid eye flashing an angry 
 fire, his usually white brow as black as night. See him as 
 he dashes through the lines — great as he is, never greater 
 than to-day — checking the retreat by his very presence, 
 arresting disaster by a glance, and in an instant changing 
 defeat to victory ! On a sudden he reins his foaming horse, 
 and Washington and Lee are face to face. As it was tliree- 
 and-twenty years ago, it is to-day ; as on the banks of 
 Monongahela so on the heights of Freehold. It is the 
 Englishman that shall be beaten and the American that shall 
 cover his retreat ; it is the Regular that shall run and the 
 Provincial that shall stand his ground ; it is Lee that shall 
 lose the day ; it is Washington that shall save the army ! 
 And what a contrast ! — the one thin as a skeleton, his feat- 
 ures plain, his eyes prominent, his nose enormous, his whole 
 appearance singular and unprepossessing ; the other broad, 
 with an open countenance and manly air, his figure that of 
 an accomplished gentleman, his gestures graceful, his pres- 
 ence strangely commanding and impressive. They are al- 
 most the same age, but Lee looks old and wrinkled, while 
 Washington appears in the prime of unusual health and 
 
 * Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. pp. 80-1. 
 
 
MONMOUTH. 379 
 
 vigor: And thus for tlie last time they sit looking at each 
 other. But for a moment only, for the Indignation of 
 Waslilngton has burst restraint. " What, sir. Is the mean- 
 ing of all this?" he asks. In a tone of thunder. "Sir, sir/' 
 stammers the other, and Is dumb. " I desire to know, sir, 
 the meaning of this disorder and confusion," repeats Wash- 
 ington, his aspect in his anger really terrible to see. Lee 
 answers confusedly — his orders have been misunderstood 
 or disobeyed, particularly by General Scott. He did not 
 choose to beard the whole British army with troops In that 
 condition, and finally that the whole thing was against his 
 opinion. " Whatever your opinion may have been, sir, I 
 exj)ected my orders to have been obeyed." " These men 
 cannot face the British grenadiers." " They can," cried 
 Waslilngton, as he spurred away — " they can do it, and they 
 shall !"* Indeed there is not a moment to be lost. Harri- 
 son comes up from Carr's House with the news that the 
 enemy are but fifteen minutes off, in great strength, ap- 
 proaching rapidly. t Washington hurriedly examines the 
 ground as Tllghman goes for Lieutenant-Colonel Rhea, who 
 knows it well. J It seems fit to make a stand upon, and the 
 British must be stopped till the main army can be formed. 
 Yonder are Walter Stewart and Nathaniel Ramsey coming 
 out of the ravine. The General hastens to them. On 
 them, he says, he shall depend to give the enemy a check ;§ 
 and under Wayne's eye, who arrives at the moment, the 
 two regiments are formed in the woods on the left.|| Wash- 
 
 * This account of the meeting of Washington and Lee is gathered 
 from the following authorities : Meade's Testimony, Lee Papers, vol. 
 iii. p. 64 ; also McHenry's, p. 78 ; Tilghman's, p. 81 ; Lee's Defence, 
 p. 191 ; Papers relating to the Maryland Line ('76 Soc. Pub.), p. 104. 
 
 t Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 81. % Ibid. 
 
 I Harrison's Testimony : Ibid., p. 75. || Ibid. ; also Wayne's, p. 22. 
 
380 MONMOUTH. 
 
 ington calls for artilleiy. Oswald's pieces have gone by. 
 He orders them back at once and posts them on the 
 right,* with Livingston's regiment to support them.f By 
 this time the British liave entered the wood in front of 
 Stewart and Ramsey; their guns open from the centre 
 and their cavalry are beginning to traverse the ravine. 
 The Battle of Monmouth has begun. Having made 
 this hurried disposition of liis troops, Washington hastens 
 to tlie right. Here, close to Oswald's cannon, Lee and 
 stout Henry Knox are watching the movements of the 
 British. "Will you command here, or shall I?" the 
 Chief demands of Lee. " If you will, I will go to the 
 rear and form the army." " I will," is the answer, "and 
 will be one of the last men oif the field."| With a 
 word to Knox for more artillery, Washington gallops to 
 the rear. The sharp fire of musketry on the left, with 
 the skilful practice of Oswald's cannoneers, have checked 
 pursuit. The British halt and bring their guns to the 
 front. A precious ten minutes has been gained. Mean- 
 time, in the rear, the army is coming up. The General is 
 already across the causeway and is forming the men rapidly 
 uj)on the height. It is a splendid position, the hills in 
 semicircle rising steeply from the marsh in front, Avhich 
 can only be crossed by the narrow causeway. Greene is on 
 the right, Stirling well posted on the left; the practised eye 
 of Steuben places the cannon skilfully, while Lafayette, on 
 the crest of the ridge, commands the second line. The 
 Frenchman, Duplessis de Manduit, is sent with six pieces 
 to Comb's Hill, more than half a mile on the extreme right, 
 
 * Fitzgerald's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. pp. 69, 70. 
 t Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., p. 113. 
 
 X Hamilton's Testimony: Ibid., p. 59 ; also Knox's, p. 156 ; Shaw's, 
 p. 159; Mercer's, p. 113. 
 
MONMOUTH. 381 
 
 whence he can enfilade the enemy as they advance.* The 
 troops move into place with the precision of trained soldiers, 
 better even, says Hamilton, who watches them, than the 
 British themselves ;t the guns are posted, and it is just in 
 time. For the light-horse have crossed the ravine and 
 threaten Oswald's guns, and on the left Stewart and 
 Ramsey's men come slowly out of the woods fighting inch 
 by inch, Americans and British mixed up together as they 
 come. J By Knox's order Oswald falls back a hundred 
 yards, repeatedly unlimbering his guns and firing as he 
 retreats. The crackling of the musketry is heavy, like a 
 thousand bonfires, and every now and then a discharge from 
 the artillery checks the red-coats and throws them into 
 confusion. Wikoff' s fields are spotted with dead men ; 
 brave Ramsey is down wounded and a prisoner ;§ Fitzgerald 
 has been hit, and John Laurens slightly, as his horse falls 
 dead beneath him.|| Slowly the Americans recede, and as 
 slowly the British advance. And now they have reached 
 the line between the WikoiFand the Tennent farms — a fence 
 grown up with weeds and bushes and small trees that runs 
 right across the line of the retreat. A small man rides up 
 to Olney, who commands Varnum's brigade, and points to 
 the hedge-row.^ He is a youth of two-and-twenty, with 
 sharp features and a brilliant eye. His manner is earnest, 
 and he speaks with an authority far beyond his years. It 
 is Lieutenant-Colonel Alexander Hamilton. The Rhode 
 
 * Barber and Howe's Historical Collection of New Jersey, p. 337. 
 t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 
 % Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. J 13. 
 § Life of Knox, p. 57. 
 II Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 197. 
 
 T[ Hamilton's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 60 ; also Olney's, 
 p. 127. 
 
382 MONMOUTH. 
 
 Islanders tlirow themselves behind the hedge-row,* while 
 Knox, without a minute's delay, posts two guns on a little 
 knoll a few paces in the rear. The British are within a 
 dozen rods, advancing to the charge. A volley cracks from 
 the hedge-row, and the guns behind open at short range. 
 The enemy recoils; the infantry give place to the light- 
 horsemen, who charge up within forty yards, but are driven 
 back with heavy loss. On come the foot again, when sud- 
 denly the guns of Duplessis on Comb's Hill open a cross- 
 fire uj^on the right, and tliey stagger and fall back. The 
 hedge-row is still held — the field in front strewn with dead, 
 the rattle of musketry is incessant, the cannon shake the 
 very earth. But the left is turned — Olney's men have be- 
 gun to fall behind the hedge — Hamilton is down, his horse 
 shot dead, but he gathers himself up, bruised and hurt.f 
 The enemy have the woods on the left — their cavalry are 
 threatening the right — their front line is nearly at the hedge 
 — they outnumber the Rhode Islanders ten to one. Knox 
 withdraws the guns ; the Continentals leave the hedge-row ; 
 and, covered by the heavy cannonade from the hills in the 
 rear, the whole body descends in pretty good order and 
 crosses the long causeway.^ It is after two o'clock. The 
 British are masters of the woods on the right and the open 
 fields up to the hedge-row. 
 
 But where is Wayne ? The old Tennent Parsonage and 
 barn lie in a hollow about a hundred yards westward of 
 the hedge-row. Behind them ascends a ridge, which pres- 
 ently falls rapidly to the morass in front of Greene. Here 
 in an orchard behind the barn and Parsonage, about three 
 hundred yards in advance of the main army, Wayne awaits 
 
 * Knox's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 158. 
 t Hamilton's Testimony : Ibid., p. 61. 
 X Olney's Testimony : Ibid., p. 128. 
 
MONMOUTH. 383 
 
 attack.* He has a few liundred Pennsylvanians under Wil- 
 liam Irvine and Thomas Craig-, a Virginia regiment, and 
 several pieces of artillery. Clinton has now brought up the 
 flower of his army, and while his batteries engage the Amer- 
 icans on the distant heights he orders the grenadiers to dis- 
 lodge Wayne. In splendid array his veterans advance, 
 their scarlet coats in perfect line, their bayonets gleaming in 
 the sunshine. Down they come toward the exposed position 
 where the Pennsylvanians lie. A terrific fire opens on them, 
 and they stagger and fall back. They rally, reform, and 
 advance again to the attack. A second volley greets them, 
 and tliey are driven back blinded and broken toward the 
 cover of the woods. And all the while the cannon on both 
 sides is thundering away. Daniel Morgan hears it yonder at 
 Shumais Mills.f He has sent to Lee for orders, but can get 
 none, and there, useless, he passes the long afternoon pacing 
 like a lion in a cage. Clinton now tries to turn the left. 
 The Highlanders attack Lord Stirling furiously, but his 
 batteries check them, and his infantry advance and drive 
 them back. Lieutenant-Colonel Aaron Burr pursues them 
 into the meadow, but an order halts him in the open ground ; 
 his brigade suifers heavily — his horse is shot, and Kudolph 
 Bunner, lieutenant-colonel of the Pennsylvania line, is 
 killed. I Attempting to turn, the right meets with no better 
 
 * The authorities for placing Wayne at the Parsonage with Penn- 
 sylvania and Virginia troops, are Langworthy's Memoir of Lee, p. 
 17; Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 161 ; Wayne's Letters, vide Lee 
 Papers, vol. ii. p. 448, vol. iii. p. 241 ; Chxrk's Letter to Lee, ibid., 
 p. 232; and Letters of General William Irvine, Pennsylvania Maga- 
 zine, vol. ii. pp. 147-8. In the first of Wayne's letters referred to 
 he says, "Pennsylvania showed the Road to Victory." 
 
 t Graham's Life of Morgan, p. 211. 
 
 X Davis's Memoirs of Burr, vol. i. pp. 127-8. 
 
384 MONMOUTH. 
 
 fate. Wavne must be driven from his o-round or the King's 
 army must retire. 
 
 On the ridge, behind the orchard, Wayne has two cannon 
 posted. Their fire is most effective, but the men who serve 
 them are fearfully exposed, and have fallen one by one; 
 they are worked now with half the requisite force, and still 
 the men are dropping. Suddenly as the British approach, 
 a matross in the act of ramming the charge throws up his 
 arms and falls headlong to the ground. The gun is useless 
 and must be withdrawn, for there is none to take his place. 
 Aye, but there is, for, yonder, rushing to the front, behold 
 a woman ! The wife of the fallen matross, she has been to 
 the creek for water to keep the sponge wet. Seeing her 
 husband fall, she dashes forward, snatches up the rammer, 
 and drives it home with the vigor of a veteran. A moment 
 and the priming is ready — another, and the gun belches 
 forth in the very faces of the British. There she stands, 
 black with powder, in the blinding smoke, the shot raining 
 about her, the dead and wounded at her feet, plying the 
 rammer with a furious energy, and keeping that heated 
 gun busy at its deadly work ! And there in the midst of 
 that conflict, the figure of Molly Pitcher, the woman can- 
 noneer of Monmouth, goes down to history. But see, Sir 
 Henry is ready for his final effort. From the woods on the 
 northeast, across the open ground before the hedge-row, in 
 the face of a heavy cannonade from the Americans on 
 Comb's Hill, the grenadiers advance. Veterans of many 
 a well-won field, they move steadily to the attack. The 
 picked men of the Royal army, perfect in equipment and 
 in the practice of arms, and never more magnificent or 
 better handled than to-day, they sweep onward toward 
 the little Parsonage and barn. It is a moment of dread- 
 ful suspense to the patriots upon the heights. Surely f 
 
 
MONMOUTH. 385 
 
 tlie Pennsylvanians Avill be swept like chaif before tliem. 
 Nearer and nearer they come, in "magnificently stern array" 
 of glowing scarlet and glittering steel, their bayonets fixed, 
 advancing silently without a shot, while the cannon on 
 the distant hills shakes the earth beneath their feet. Who 
 is there to resist them ? A few hundred Pennsylvanians 
 drawn up in a little orchard and behind a wooden barn 
 and farm-house — a handful of yeomen in their shirt-sleeves, 
 armed with old-fashioned muskets, awaiting the charge of 
 the British grenadiers. The odds against the Americans 
 are fearful, as the well-trained enemy sweeps down. But 
 not a man among them moves. Somewhere in that orchard 
 is Anthony Wayne himself, watching the foe with steady 
 glance, his teeth set, his cheek flushed. " Wait," he tells 
 his men, " till they are close at hand, and then pick off the 
 king birds."* 
 
 On comes the unbroken column, apparently resistless, in 
 the full blaze of the afternoon's sun. In front, in the splen- 
 did uniform of a lieutenant-colonel, is their commander, 
 Henry Monckton, the Viscount Galway's son, waving his 
 sword and calling on the grenadiers to " charge." They 
 have swept through the open field, they have passed the 
 hedge-row, they have begun to descend the slope beyond, 
 their pace quickens, the front rank has almost reached the 
 barn — the whole column is in full charge. There is a 
 moment of suspense. And then, with a crash, a sheet of 
 flame from Parsonage and barn and fence and orchard lea}3s 
 forth to meet them, and in an instant a dense cloud of 
 smoke has hidden them from view. A moment later the 
 cloud has broken, and here and there glimpses can be seen 
 
 * King's Address. Vide New Jersey Historical Society's Pro- 
 ceedings, vol. iv. p. 139. 
 
386 MONMOUTH. 
 
 of men in deadly combat — red- coated grenadiers and yeo- 
 men in sliirt-sleeves mixed in inextricable confusion. See 
 as the smoke lifts, Wayne's men have leaped the fence 
 coatless, their sleeves rolled np,* and dashed into the melee, 
 and yonder in the hollow of the field they are fighting 
 hand to hand with bayonet thrust and clubbed guns over 
 a lifeless body. It is his who a moment ago cheered on his 
 men to victory — his breast bloody with wounds, his scarlet 
 coat stained and torn as the fight rages about him. Now 
 his men press forward, and again are driven back, as the 
 Americans from barn and orchard throw themselves head- 
 long into the struggle. The cracking of the musketry is 
 incessant — the cries of the combatants can be heard, and all 
 the while, above the din, the guns upon the heights keep up 
 " the heaviest cannonading ever heard in America." And 
 now beyond the rim of smoke the grenadiers are falling 
 back in groups together, broken and confused. The Amer- 
 icans have Monckton's body and are driving his men before 
 them in retreat. Back up the sloping field — through the 
 broken hedge-row — across tlie open ground — toward the 
 woods beyond, faster and faster go the British — in confused 
 mass, their ranks broken — their battalions shattered — their 
 leader killed ! At last — at last — in open ground and hand 
 to hand the ragged rebels have withstood and beaten the 
 British grenadiers ! 
 
 The day is now spent ; the American position can neither 
 be turned nor taken ; the British left is threatened, and the 
 whole army cooped up on the right — there is nothing for 
 Clinton to do but to retire. Already his troops have left 
 the woods in front of Stirling — the centre has repassed the 
 
 * Statement of John Crolius, vide Dawson's Battles of the Amer- 
 ican Revolution, vol. i. p. 409. 
 
MONMOUTH. 3^7 
 
 ravine in front of Carr's House — the horsemen have turned 
 their backs — the whole army is retreating. Down from the 
 heights come tlie Americans in pursuit, and over the hot 
 fields filled with the bodies of the dead. The word ffoes 
 back to Steuben to bring up fresh men, for the enemy are 
 retreating in confusion, and though Lee, then at the rear, 
 declares that it cannot be true, the old veteran hastens to 
 obey.* Before he has arrived the enemy are strongly posted 
 on the ground beyond the ravine, and it is nearly seven 
 o'clock. Washington prepares to resume the offensive, but 
 both sides are tired out. And there through the sultry 
 twilight the two armies lie Avatching each other, panting and 
 exhausted, with only the defile between them.f The fields 
 are strewn with coats, cartouch-boxes, and guns, the ground 
 torn uj) with shot, the trees shattered with the marks of 
 cannon-balls. The Americans hold the field of battle, but 
 the British present a sullen and threatening front. The 
 shadows creep out of the west — the steam rises from the 
 hollows — the sun, like a ball of fire, has disappeared — the 
 sultry twiliglit has faded — the hot night has begun. The 
 dead lie where they fell, the wounded groan and gasp for 
 air — in the woods, by the hedge-row, in the marsh, on the 
 trodden field — and tlie tired living sink on their arms to 
 sleep. Poor's sentinels, close to the enemy, are watching their 
 right — Woodford's guarding their left. J Beneath a tall tree 
 Washington and Lafayette, wrapped in a single cloak, lie 
 down to rest.§ A solemn silence has followed the tumult 
 of the day, and so the long hours of the night pass by. 
 With the first streak of dawn the men are under arms. 
 
 * Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 163. 
 
 f Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 198. 
 
 X Washington to President of Congress, July 1. 
 
 § Lafayette's Memoirs, voL i. p. 54. 
 
388 MONMOUTH. 
 
 Poor pushes his brigade across the ravine, Woodford ad- 
 vances on the left, and the whole army awaits the signal 
 for attack. But still no sound comes from the British 
 camp. And look, for the sun is up, the fields in front are 
 deserted; the cannon that frowned across the ravine at 
 nightfall have disappeared ; the red-coats have vanished in 
 the night. Four of their officers and forty men lie wounded 
 in their empty camp. In the darkness, in the shadows of 
 the night, the Royal army has stolen away.* The Battle 
 of Monmouth has been fought and won ! 
 
 During; the midnio-ht hours Clinton has withdrawn in 
 stealth to join his baggage in the hills of Middletown. 
 Without cavalry, pursuit is useless. The British reach 
 Sandy Hook on the 30th, and Washington advances to 
 Brunswick and White Plains. 
 
 With the events that followed I have not to do. We all 
 know the result: how the allied attack on Rhode Island was 
 a failure, and how the British remained quiet in New York 
 until December, when they departed to invade the South. 
 
 But the excitements of the affair of Monmouth ceased 
 not with the battle. The singular conduct of General Lee 
 — his disrespectful letters to the Commander-in-Chief — his 
 trial — the confused and conflicting testimony — his able and 
 ingenious defence (often inconsistent and based on after- 
 thought though it was) — his conviction and his sentence — 
 gave rise to bitter controversy for years to come. Many 
 were convinced that he was guilty of greater offences than 
 those with which he had been charged ; some held him 
 innocent, and even deserving of high praise. It is prob- 
 able that he was in some degree innocent, and, at the same 
 time, in greater measure guilty. It is clear that Wash- 
 
 * Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 198. 
 
MONMOUTH. 389 
 
 ington's order to attack left liim full discretion. It is 
 evident that an engagement in the plain would have been 
 unwise, and that I^ee's opinion of the position near the 
 Court-House was a sounder one than Wayne's. It is prob- 
 able that a well-managed retreat, drawing the British into the 
 ground they finally occupied, and providing for the main 
 army to receive them there, might have resulted in a battle 
 disastrous to the enemy ; but nothing before, or during, or 
 after his retreat suggests that any such plan had entered 
 the mind of General Lee. He made no plan of action in 
 advance. He communicated none to his brigadiers at any 
 time. He withdrew his right in haste when the enemy 
 approached, but gave his left no orders. He fell back to 
 Carr's House in confusion, which he saw but did not try 
 to check. His directions to those about him were contra- 
 dictory ; to those at a distance he had none to give. His 
 talk with Wikoif showed that he thought to make a stand, 
 but knew neither when nor where to do it, and from the 
 beginning to the end he sent no word to Washington of 
 what was taking place. It was his fault that his command 
 acted without a head ; it was his fault that the enemy had 
 to be stopped at a disadvantage to get time to form the 
 main army, even for defence; and if it was his plan to draw 
 Clinton into a trap, as he asserted, and in the same breath 
 denied, in his defence, he took no pains to make that plan 
 successful or avert the disaster, which every moment, under 
 his eyes, threatened to be more complete and overwhelming. 
 And it is certain that his subsequent conduct cannot be 
 excused. His behavior to Congress was undignified and 
 weak ; his attacks on Washington ill-natured and con- 
 temptible ; and his death — sudden and speedy as it was — 
 was too tardy for his fame. 
 
 The generation that knew Charles Lee was too much 
 
390 MONMOUTH. 
 
 interested in the events in whicli lie was an actor to form an 
 accnrate estimate of his character or sit in judgment on his 
 life. The century that has intervened has cooled forever 
 the passions that stirred the bosoms of his friends and 
 enemies. We can judge him with calmness and impar- 
 tiality ; for to us he is sim])ly a figure in our early history. 
 And we know him better than our fathers did. They may 
 have seen that, like Gates, he feared the British grenadiers, 
 and could not persuade himself that the raw levies of Con- 
 gress could stand up against them. They may have thought 
 that, like others besides Gates, he was jealous of Washing- 
 ton, and did not wish him victory. They may have sus- 
 pected that he was annoyed that his advice had been over- 
 ruled, and did not wish an attack, made in spite of it, to 
 be successful. But they did not understand, in the face of 
 many signs, that his heart was not in their struggle ; and they 
 did not know, as we do, that when a prisoner in New York, 
 on the 25th of March, 1777, this second in command of 
 their armies had written and submitted to the British gen- 
 eral an elaborate plan for the subjection of America. Side 
 by side Avitli that paper, in Lee's unmistakable handwriting, 
 and endorsed by Howe's secretary " Mr. Lee's Plan,"* the 
 most elaborate defence of his conduct here at Monmouth 
 falls broken to the ground. His motives may have been 
 humane, his desire to prevent bloodshed earnest, his wish 
 to reunite the mother-country and the colonies sincere; but 
 the act was that of a traitor, and on this spot, identified 
 with the last scene of his career, it is more charitable than 
 just, to grant to a name and memory associated with such 
 a deed, the mercy of oblivion. 
 
 * Vide Treason of Charles Lee, by George II. Moore, New York, 
 1860. 
 
MONMOUTH. 391 
 
 The battle of the 28th of June was famous for many 
 things. It was there that Charles Lee ended his career. 
 It was there that the last great battle of the war was fought — 
 from this to Yorktown the conflicts were on a smaller scale. 
 And it was there that the American first showed himself a 
 finished soldier. Courage he had exhibited enough already, 
 but for the task which he had undertaken untrained valor was 
 not enough. The audacious spirit which led the half-armed 
 farmers of Massachusetts to seize the hill beyond Charles- 
 town neck, at night, and throw up a rude breastwork within 
 half a cannon-shot of a British fleet and army — the head- 
 long daring of Arnold at Quebec and Behmus's Heights 
 — the splendid gallantry of Christopher Greene behind 
 the intrenchments at Red Bank — the intrepidity of Wayne 
 leading his forlorn hope up the heights of Stony Point — the 
 rash valor of Ethan Allen in the gates of Ticonderoga — 
 the reckless bravery of Sergeant Jasper on the ramparts of 
 Fort Moultrie, were but examples of an almost universal 
 courage. But even this, splendid as it was, would not have 
 availed alone through seven years of constant and often 
 disastrous fighting. It was the calm and reflecting courage 
 of the soldier trained in the school of trial — that could fall 
 back without disorder, retreat without panic, endure suffer- 
 ing without a murmur, and bear defeat with patience. It 
 was the long suffering of Valley Forge bearing its fruit in 
 the veteran-like courage of Monmouth, that saved Civil 
 Liberty for both continents alike. 
 
 And never were the soldierly qualities of Washington 
 displayed more brilliantly than here. " I never saw the 
 general to so much advantage," wrote Hamilton to Bouvdi- 
 not; "his coolness and firmness were admirable."* "His 
 
 * Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 469. 
 
392 MONMOUTH. 
 
 presence stopped the retreat/' said Lafayette ; " his dispo- 
 sitions fixed the victory — his fine appearance on horseback, 
 his calm courage, roused to animation by the vexations of 
 the morning, gave him an air best calculated to arouse en- 
 thusiasm."* The general voice of his countrymen confirmed 
 the judgment of Hamilton Mdien he wrote: "America owes 
 a great deal to General Washington for this day's work — 
 a general rout, dismay, and disgrace would have attended 
 the whole array in any other hands but his/'f 
 
 From this time forward there waf§ no longer question who 
 should be Commander-in-Chief. One after another his 
 enemies disappeared — Lee was suspended from command, 
 Conway returned to France, Mifflin left the service. Gates 
 was overthrown at Camden. It was he alone who had kept 
 the army together at Valley Forge — it was he alone who 
 had saved the day at Monmouth — it is he alone that shall 
 win the liberties of this struggling people. Soldier and 
 statesman, for five-and-twenty years the central figure in his 
 country's history, he shall appear to posterity as he did to 
 Lafayette that day, who thought, as he watched the splendid 
 figure dashing along the forming lines, that never before 
 or since had he beheld " so superb a man."| The affair of 
 Monmouth was in some respects a drawn battle. The re- 
 port which Clinton wrote conveyed the idea that he had 
 accomplished all he wished — beaten the provincials and 
 continued on his way to take advantage of the moonlight, 
 although the fact was, that the moon on that night was but 
 four days old. Many in England recognized the truth 
 about the battle, for we find Horace Walpole writing shortly 
 afterwards, " The undisciplined courtiers speak of it in 
 
 * Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 34, foot-note. Bruxelles, 1837. 
 
 f Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 
 
 X Recollections of Geo. W. P. Custis, p. 221. 
 
MOXMO UTH. 393 
 
 most dismal terms." " If I ffuess rio-ht, AVasliinoton Avas 
 ill served, and thence, and l)y the violent heats, could not 
 effect all his purposes ; but an army on a march through 
 a hostile country that is twice beaten back — which is 
 owned — Avhose men drop down with heat, have no hos- 
 pitals, and were hurrying to a place of security, must have 
 lost more than three hundred and eighty men ;"* and he 
 adds later, with a sneer, " The Royal army has gained an 
 escape. "t But the Americans claimed it with enthusiasm 
 as a victory. It was true that the enemy had escaped. It 
 was true that the fruits belonged rather to Clinton than to 
 Washington, for the purpose of the one had failed, and that 
 of the other been accomplished. But it was evident to all 
 men that the days of the superiority of the British army 
 were over. The Continentals had encountered the gren- 
 adiers in the open field, and under disastrous circumstances, 
 and had withstood and even repulsed them. After a whole 
 day's fighting it had been the British who fell back, and 
 the Americans who kept the field — and this time it had 
 been the Rebels who had wished to renew the battle, and 
 the Regulars who had refused it. The fact that the enemy 
 had escaped made little difference to the enthusiastic Amer- 
 icans. He had been beaten fairly, and that was glory 
 enough. The Congress was in ecstasy — the Whigs jubilant. 
 Wrote Washington himself, " From an unfortunate and 
 bad beginning it turned out a glorious and happy day ."J 
 " The behavior of the officers and men in general was such 
 as could not easily be surpassed. Our troops, after the 
 first impulse from mismanagement, behaved with more 
 
 * Walpole to Rev. Win. Mason, August 14, 1778. Vide Corre- 
 spondence, vol. ii. p. 13. 
 
 t Walpole to Sir II. Mann. Ibid., vol. iii. p. 96. 
 X Washington to his Brother : Sparks, vol. v. p. 431. 
 
 26. 
 
394 MONMOUTH. 
 
 spirit and moved with greater order than the British 
 troops/' were the words of Hamilton. Said General Wil- 
 liam Irvine, " It was a most glorious day for the American 
 arms."* "Indeed/' wrote Ivnox, "it is very splendid. 
 The caj)ital army of Britain defeated and obliged to retreat 
 before the Americans, whom they despised so much." 
 " The effects of the battle will be great and lasting. It 
 Mall convince the enemy that nothing but a good consti- 
 tution is wanting to render our army equal to any in the 
 world."f As for Wayne, whose "good conduct and bravery/' 
 in the words of Washington, " deserve particular commen- 
 dation,"! he could not contain himself. " Tell those Phila- 
 delphia ladies," he wrote to a friend, " who attended Howe's 
 assemblies and levees, that the heavenly, sweet, pretty red- 
 coats, the accomplished gentlemen of the guards and gren- 
 adiers, have been humbled on the plains of Monmouth. 
 The Knights of the Blended Roses and of the Burnino- 
 Mount have resigned their laurels to rebel officers, who 
 will lay them at the feet of those virtuous daughters of 
 America, who cheerfully gave up ease and affluence in a 
 city for liberty and peace of mind in a cottage."§ 
 
 Such, my countrymen, is the history of this famous fight. 
 The years that have gone by have left no trace of it upon 
 your soil. The fields are changed, the morass has become 
 a pleasant meadow, the woods have fallen, the ancient Par- 
 sonage has gone. And they who struggled here, grenadier 
 and Continental, veteran in scarlet and yeoman in rags, 
 have all passed away forever ; they who fought against us 
 and they who fought to make us free, old and young alike, 
 
 * Hamilton to Boudinot. Vide Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 
 
 t Life of Knox, pp. 57-9. 
 
 X Washington to President of Congress, July L 
 
 § Moore's Life of Wayne, pp. C4-5. 
 
MONMOUTH. 395 
 
 great man and Immble, he whose fitting sepulchre is his 
 country's heart and they who, in unmarked graves in yonder 
 field, have long since mouldered into dust — the nameless 
 dead, who died for you and me. Father, son, and grand- 
 child, they have descended to the grave, and of all that 
 knew and loved them in their prime, not one survives. 
 The peaceful plough passing through your fields may un- 
 cover rusted ball, or broken bayonet, or mouldering skull, 
 or crumbling skeleton. But the wild fury of the fight has 
 gone ; the struggling host has vanished ; the loud-mouthed 
 cannon are forever dumb. Another sound is rising in the 
 land. It comes from town and hamlet, from marts of com- 
 merce and from haunts of trade, from workshop and from 
 forge, from field and mine, from forest, hill, and stream. 
 It tells of joy and gladness, of content and peace, of well- 
 stored granaries and happy homes. It tells of a people 
 virtuous and free, a government rooted in the hearts of 
 men. It is a nation's prayer, a people's cry, a song of 
 Hope and Prophecy. 
 
 And from these hills to-day a voice goes forth to meet 
 it. Americans, it seems to say, as with your fathers shall it 
 be with you. Faith, Courage, Fortitude, Virtue, and Love 
 of Country can win you battles now as well as then. Defeat 
 may still lead the way to Victory and suffering to Happiness. 
 And ^vdien the night cometh and the shadows fall, remember 
 that the sun that went down at Valley Forge was the same 
 that arose above the Heights of Freehold. 
 
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