Book^-2_^7- % •> I f / AMERICAN PROGRESS: OE THE GREAT EVENTS f OF heGreatestCentury, 'vi' INCLtTDING ALSO Life Delineations of Our Most Noted Men. 'They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to giva aught other reason why."— Halleck. By HON. R. M. DEVENS, OF MASSACHUSETTS. ILLUSTRATED WITH OVER THREE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. PUBLISHED BY HUGH HERON, CHICAGO, ILLS. 1886 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by C A. NICHOLS & CO. In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. BY THANSnW fEBZ* itHM SPRINGFIELD PRINTING CO. KLKCTROTYPERS, PRINTERS AND BINDERS. SPRIKfiFlELD, MASS. "A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds." — Henkt Clay. •^■i>s.t<^*"^ LORIOUS beyond historic parallel have been the achievements of our national career. To worthily record them is the schol- ar's pride. To be familiar with them is the patriot's duty and delight. In presenting this new work the publish- er's aim is to supply the demand for a unique portrayal of a great and eventful century. As the course of a distant mountain chain is indicated by those lofty peaks which rise to meet the sun, so a people's social tendency and political and scientific advance- ment are revealed in those extraordinary names and deeds which rise into the light of immortality. Michael Angelo wrought into nine most wonderful frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel all the memorable events of the world's first thousand years. No pen is more charming and educational than that which, like the Florentine's pencil, throws all the greatness of a wonderful past into a series of glowing pictures. This has been our author's endeavor. The result is a gallery of historical frescoes in which may be seen all those splendid deeds and mighty men that have made up our greatness. Our national progress has been most excitmg and dramatic. What struggles and triumphs, what discoveries and inventions, what disasters and reforms, what tragedies and comedies, have characterized the greatest century since g DEDICATION. Ztxe world hegaul Be this our native or adopted land, while we glory in our American citizenship we cannot become forgetful of those supreme characters and superb achievements which "constitute our common patrimony — the nation's in- heritance." The page which reflects the glory of our past must be bright and entertaining-. The author believes that the proper narration of events is not only more, in- structive but also more fascinating than romance. The work is not a mere history. It contains no tedious details of commonplace occurrences, but graphic descriptions of everything notable, — the cream of history. The needs of all classes of readers have been consulted. Our American youth, our intelligent farm- ers and artisans, our business and professional men of the land, who need books that are full of the most interesting and useful material for reference, illustra- tion, entertainment, and instruction, will find the present volume adapted to their wants. It is not dry, like an encyclopedia, but in the fullest sense stimu- lating, romantic, true, — to charm while it informs the mind. Dryness is not a proof of accuracy. The clearer and more vivid a picture the more faithful it may be to reality. An elevated and spirited style of composition is in harmony with splendid truths and facts. Eleven laborious years have been devoted to the preparation of the volume, and tiie publisher makes no apology for saying that the author has brought to his work experience, scholarship, and literary taste of the highest order. He has obtained rare and valuable information hitherto inaccessible. State and national archives, libraries and museums, private diaries and journals of public men, have been laid under contribution. From eye witnesses and partici- pants in thrilling scones have been secured interesting facts never before in print. The book may be relied upon as authority on the subjects of which it treats. Over twelve thousand dollars has been expended in illustrating the woi-k. Art is a charming instructor — it teaches while it entertains. The philosophy of a great life may be revealed in a portrait. A single engraving may convey a clearer idea of a subject than a whole chapter of words. The true value of a book is not commercial, but intellectual. Fenelon said, "If the crowns of all the kingdoms of the earth were laid down at my feet in exchange for my books and my love of reading, I would spurn them all." Our hands must toil for our brains and hearts. Rich is the possessor of a good book. Our own rare Emerson said, "In the highest civilization the book is still the highest delight." That volume in which the great events of our own nation's existence are mirrored with all the colors of reality must challenge the attention of thoughtful men. To our American citizens— Liberty's nobility — the publisher has the honor to dedicate this work, believing, with Goldsmith, that "in proportion as society refines, new books must ever become more laecessary." THE PUBLISHER. U:^ €^ ^ f- <^imi^-&Sh. t^ I. MOMENTOUS POLITICAL EVENTS OF ABSORBING INTEREST. BIRTH OF THE NATION.— The Grandest Modern Event. — The Gauntlet ot Defiance thrown ^[K at the Feet of the British Realm by Her Youngest Colonies.— The whole World looks on Aston- ished.- Patrick Henry's Burning Eloquence.— Excitement of the King and Court.— Lord Chatham's Scorching Speech.— Struck Dead while Speaking.— Seven Years' Struggle.- England Gives Up the Contest, and the World Welcomes the New Nation 25 APPOINTMENT OF OUR FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND.— John Adams, the Foremost 1786 Enemy of British Tyranay, FiUs this High Office.— What His Mission Involved.— All Europe Watches the Event. — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Ad- dresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — Results of this Embassy. . 70 FORMATION AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION.— Plan of Govern- ITW ment to be Framed.— Statesmen and Sages in Council.— Dignity, Learning, and Eloquence of the Delegates.— Various Schemes Discussed.— Angry Debates, Sectional Threats.- Franklin's Impress- ive Appeal.— Patriotism Rules all Hearts.— Snl>Iime Scene on Signing the Instrument.— The United States no Longer a People Witliout a Government 77 FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED 1789 STATES.— Washington, the Nation's Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice. — His Farewell Visit to His Mother. — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Solemn Induction into Office. — Order of Cere- monies.— Elegant Appearance and Dignity when Taking the Oath.— Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Distinguished Celebrities Present. — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. 84 FOUNDING AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL.— Named in Honor 17?? ot Washington. — Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First "Compromise " in Con- gress between the North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to Washington. — Official Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor of its Public BnUdings 112 10 CONTENTS. PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESOLUTION," m THE UNITED W37 STATES SENATE. — Opposition to the United States Bank.— Jackson's Message Against it.— Con- gress Grants a Charter, and Jackson Vetoes the Bill, Denounces the Bank, and Orders the United States Funds Removed. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act, but Taney Succeeds him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Strong Debate. — Resolution to Censure Jackson Passed. — Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly, and Triumphs after Three Years' Parliamentary Struggle 268 PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEASURE, BY PRESIDENT 1863 LINCOLN. — More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important American State Paper Since July Fourth, 1776. — Pronounced, by the President, " The Great Event of the Nineteenth Century." — The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Victories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendment. — Public Reception of the Proclamation.— Promulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchise- ment Added to Freedom 544 II. BATTLES, SIEGES, AND BRILLIANT NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO GENERAL WASHINGTON, itsi — Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King George. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Last Act in the Military Drama. — Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as Their Deliverer 56 ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— Record of His Generalship.— Scheme to make 1183 Him King. — Indignantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His Troops. — Affecting Interview and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-Arms. — Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress. — He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His Supreme Authority, Returns Hia Victorious Sword, and Becomes a, Private Citizen. — Rare Event in Human History 68 DECISIVE BATTLES WITH THE INDIANS.— Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. 1791 Clair's Army, in 1791, Before the Trained Warriors of " Little Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Triumph, in 1794. — Final and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jack- son, in 1814. — The Question of Power Between the Two Races Forever Settled in Favor of the Whites 91 THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION IN PENNSYLVANIA.— Violent Resistance ]T^ to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory Appeals. — Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense Excitement in all the States. — Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an Army to Meet the Crisis. — Precipi- tate Flight of the Armed Rebels 105 GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT ANT) SLAUGHTER OF THE BRITISH 1815 ARMY, AT NEW ORLEANS. — British Invasion of Louisiana. — Jackson Hastens to New Orleans. — His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conduct of this Campaign — The War with England Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms — Jackson is Hailed as One of the Greatest of Modem Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country. — National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle 171 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS, AS THE CONQUEROR 1M7 OF MEXICO — Irritation between the United States and Mexico — Points of Boundary. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — Declaration of War by Congress — Scott's Order, " On to Mexico ! " — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand Miles. — General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista — Flight of Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly from the Towers of the National Palace — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the United States Army 347 CONTENTS. 11 BOMBARDMENT AND REDUCTION OF FORT SUMTER —Inauguration of Civil War in l??! the United States. — First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle to Dismember the Union. — Organization of the Southern Confederacy. — President Lincoln's Proclamation for 75.000 Volun- teers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People. — Calling the Battle-Roll of the Republic. — Su- preme Crisis in tiie Fate of the Nation. — Northern and Southern Variances — Slavery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the Antagonism. — Disunion Banner of the South. — Secession of Sev- eral States. — War Wager Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal Property Seized at the South. — Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. — Beauregard De- mands its Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal — Weakness of his Garrison. — Attempts to Re-enforce It. — Prevented by Confederate Batteries. — All Eyes Riveted on the Fort. — Opening of tlie Attack, April Fourteenth. — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation Accepted. — Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook — Washington the National Key. . . . 502 BATTLE AT BULL RUN, VA., BETWEEN THE FEDERAL ARMY AND THAT OF 1861 THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.— Three Months Since Sumter Fell — " On to Richmond ! " the Union WarCry. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — March of McDowell's Army, and Plan of the Movement — Re-enforcements for the Confederates — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Ex- claims, " Onward, My Brave Comrades ! " — Their Wild Enthusiasm — Most Disastrous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong Flight — First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — Lessons Taught by this Battle. ........ 517 BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MARYLAND.— Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw.— Nearly !»«? One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side. — General McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War." — Four Miles and Fourteen Hours of Fighting and Slaughter. — The Shock and " Glory " of War on a Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Bravery of the Contending Foes. — Some of the Regiments Almost Annihilated. — The Union Troops Hold the Disputed Ground and Drive the En- emy tn Masse. — The After-Scene of Horror 53.^ CAMPAIGN AGAINST -VICKSBURG, " THE GIBRALTAR OF THE MISSISSIPPI," 1^ BY THE UNION FORCES.— The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to Their Utmost — Final Capitulation of the City by General Pemberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the Secession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. — 37,000 Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for 60,000 Men, the Trophies. — Geographical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval Siege Powerless. — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command — Vigorous Operations Undertaken. — His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm Vicksburg. — Hours of Terrific Cannonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough Investment at all Points. — Federal Sapping and Mining — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. — Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Struggle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois. — Their Colors Surmount the Work. — Pemberton Sends a Flag of Truce — His Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms : " Uncon- ditional Surrender." — The Victors Enter the City, July Fourth. — Curious Reminiscences. . . 654 THREE DAYS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE CONCENTRATED ARMIES OF GENER- !^ ALS MEADE AND LEE, AT GETTYSBURG, PA.— Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives Them with Great Slaughter Across the Poto- mac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the Seat of War from Virginia to Northern Soil — One of the Most Decisive and Important Federal Victories in the Great American Civil Conflict. — Lee's Army Impatient to go North. — Order of March at Last. — Consternation in the Border States. — Call for One Hundred Thousand More Men. — Advance of Meade's Army. — Face to Face with the Foe. — Engagement between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests — Movements and Counter Move- ments. — Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery HiU. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. — Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — Crawford's Grand Charge. — Stand- ing by the Batteries !— Hand-to- Hand Conflict. — Following the Battle-Flag. — Deadly and Impetuous Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taken. — Unbounded Joy of the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement 563 GRAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GENERAL SHERMAN, THROUGH 1864 THE HEART OF THE SOUTH —Generals and Armies Baffled : States and Cities Conquered — — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in any Age or Country. — Great Closing Act in the Cam- paign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander — His Own Story of his Success. — A Brilliant Cam- 12 CONTENTS. paign Planned. — Atlanta, Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City : Starts for the Coast — Subsists His Men on the Enemy's Country. — Savannah's Doom Sealed.— Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas Gift to the President. — Advance into South Carolina. — The Stars and Stripes in Her Cap- ital. — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnson's Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described Personally 598 FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE CAPITAL.— The Entrenched City 1865 Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of Steel. — Flight of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army. — Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The ^gis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant. — Transports of Joy Fill the Laud. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace.— Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. — Without It, a Lost Republic. — Uuequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward March of Events — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of the Final Crisis. - Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat of Lee : Vigorous Pur- suit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant. — Their Correspondence and Interview. — The Two Great Generals Face to Face — What was Said and Done. — Announcing the Result. — Parting of Lee with His Soldiers. — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond. — Raising the United States Flag at Fort Sum- ter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe 607 OUR FIRST VICTORY ON THE SEA.— John Paul Jones Fights and Captures the English ]™ Ship-of War, Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the Coast. — The Most Sangui- nary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships. — Britain's Flag Struck to America. — Jones is Hailed as " The Washington of the Sea." — World-wide Interest of this Combat 32 AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST }^ TIME IN A SQUADRON FIGHT —Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter.— Sixteen Vessels En- gaged — The British, under Captain Barclay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Su- perior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry. — Every British Vessel Captured. — General Harrison Completes the Victorious Work on Land. — American Prowess Invincible 163 EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRONCLADS MERRIMAC AND MON- 1862 ITOR, IN HAMPTON ROADS —Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frig- ates. — Their Swift and Terrible Destruction by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the "Lit- tle Monitor " at the Scene of Action — She Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval Warfare the World Over by this Remarkable Contest — How the Merrimac Changed Hands. — Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va. — Her Hull Raised by the Confeder- ates. — Slie is Iron Roofed and Plated — Proof Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in Her Prow. — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat — In Command of Commodore Buchanan — Departs from Norfolk, March Eighth — Pierces and Sinks the Cumberland. — Next Attacks the Congress. — The Noble Frigate Destroyed — Fight Begun with the Minnesota — Suspended at Nightfall — Trip of the Monitor from New York — Her New and Singular Build — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the Battles — Resolves to Grapple witli the Monster — The Two Together Next Day — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac. 526 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, AND THE KEAR- 1864 SARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, OFF CHERBOURG— The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of Europe— Semmes Throws His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes — Relative Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Ves- sels — The Previous Destructive Career of the Alabama Against Northern Commerce. — Causeless Raid on Marine Property — Fault in tlie Law of Nations — British Origin of the Alabama — Her Un- mistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment. — Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run — Adroit Shipment of Stores .and Guns — Ready for a Start. — All Hands Mustered Aft. — Semmes Reads Aloud His Commission — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, Etc. — Salute Fired : Hoisting the Flag. — A Long Cruise: Terrilde Ravages — Puts in at Cherbourg, France — The United States Ship Kearsarge on His Track — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight — Preliminary Maneuvers of the Ships — Seven Circles Round Each Other — Semuies's Rapid and Furious Fire — Superior Gunnery of the Kearsarge — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama — Incidents of this Renowned Fight. . . . 581 CONTENTS. 13 ADMIRAL FARRAGUTS ACHIEVEMENTS IN 1862 AND IN 1864 ; AND ADMIRAL l^M PORTER'S IN 1865.— Fierce and Sauguiuary Coutest between the Admiral's Flagship, -ind Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, » Match for the Whole Union Fleet. — Farragut's Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerving Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Fleet. — Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Porter's Services.— New Orleans Again Under the United States Flag. — Forts, Rams, Ironclads, etc., to Fight. — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature in His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft. — The " Glory " and Horrors of War. — Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram. — Crippled at Last : The White Flag. — The Stars and Stripes on Her Staff.— Buchanan Yields His Sword 590 III. SUPERB ACHIEVEMENTS OF ORATORY. THE "GREAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE IN CONGRESS.— Vi-2830 tal Constitutional Issues Discussed. — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence. — Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the Whole Range of Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — His Magnificent Personal Appearance. — Unprecedented Interest and Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No Debate Comparable with This. — Known as the " Battle of the Giauta." — Rival Orators ; Pleasant Courtesies.— Golden Age of American Oratory. 205 STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CONGRESS.— John Quincy Adams, the 1836 " Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single Handed, in its Defense in the House of Representatives. — Passage of the " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assassination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed before in the Halls of Legislation. — Triumph of his Master Mind 252 POLITICAL DEBATE BETWEEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND STEPHEN A. DOUG- l^s LAS, IN ILLINOIS. — Cause of this Remarkal)le Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts of the Land — The Heart of Every American Citizen Enlisted in the Momentous Issue Involved. — Eminent Character of the Combatants. — Their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally Acknowledged. — The Discussions Attended by Friends and Foes. — Victory, Defeat, Life and Death. — Condition of the New Territories. — Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic Institu- tions : Slavery. Mr. DougLas Advocates " Popular Sovereignty." — " Prohibition " Urged by Mr. Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The Public Mind Divided. — Joint Debates Pro- posed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Appearance and Style. — Plans, Places, Scenes. — Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroitness of the Disputants. — Immense Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated. — Mr. Douglas Re-elected Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas's Magnanimity. — The Olive Branch. — Shoulder to Shoulder as Uuionists. — Sudden Decease of the Great Senator 469 ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND, BY REV. H. 1863 W. BEECHER. — His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liverpool. — He Wrestles, Single-Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours with a Vast Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Beecher's Tour Abroad for His He.alth. — Civil Conflict Raging in America. — Mr. Beecher Urged to Speak an United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition. — Discussions in Glasgow and Edin'Durgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. — Violent Efforts to Gag Kim. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — Stampings, Hootings, YeUings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — Grand Closing Scene in the Capital 573 IV. WONDERFUL PHENOMENA OF THE EARTH, OCEAN, AND HEAVENS. THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— One of Nature's Marvels.— The Northern States Wrapt in n8« a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Herds Retire to their St.alls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — The Day of Judgment Supposed to have Come. Science at a Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenome- non. — Incidents and Anecdotes 40 14 CONTENTS. TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE.— The Darkness of Night FaUs upon ths Earth at Mid-day.— Stars yo? auJ Planets iu i'ull Hadiauce. — Maguificeut Spectacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon aud the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances flaming from the Sun. — Business Pursuits Abandoned. — Millions of Faces Turned Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewaa with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed De- light. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science. — Reveianons of the Spectroscope. — Spots on the Sun Examined. — Climax of the Impressive Sceue 134 EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST.— Its Convulsive ijll Force Felt all Over the ^'alley of the Mississippi aud to the Atlantic Coast. — The Earth Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and Upheavels. — Ruin and Desolation Brought upon the Inhabitants. — Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness. — Humboldt's Interesting Opinion. . . . 155 THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE OF SEPTEMBER.— Bright Skies in the Midst of the >815 Tempest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — All New England Desolated 178 SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED STATES.- -The Most Grand ^ and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The Whole Firmament of the Universe iu Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Velocity, Size and Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. — The People Wonder Struck. — Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant. — Conflagration of the World Feared 228 MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS OF 18.37.— A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson 1837 Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent Auroral Glories Span the Hemisphere. — Innu- merable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Millions of Wondering Observers 269 SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT AND FIERY COMET IN THE SKIES AT 1:<*1 NOONDAY. — It Sweeps Through the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000 Miles in Length. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity, Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. Its Mysterious disappear- ance in the Unknown Realms and Depths of Space. — Most Notable of all Comets 300 EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS, SCIENTIFIC EXPEDITIONS, AND THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF MECHANICAL GENIUS. WHITNEY'S COTTON-GIN INVENTION.— The Inventor's Obscure Circumstances.- His UfS Early Mechanical Genius. — Determined to get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — Befriended by a Widow. — His Inventive Efforts Produce the Cottou-Gin. — It Revolutionizes the In- dustrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became " King." — Its Relation to the Great Themes and Events in American History 98 FULTON'S TRIUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO NAVIGATION.— Fulton's }^« Early Mechanisms. — His Experiments and Trials. — Discovery of Steam Propulsion at Last. — Pub- lic Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of the First Steamboat. — Incidents at the Launch. — Sail- ing of the " New-Fangled Craft." — Complete Success of the Trip. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. — First Steamboat at the West. — The World Indebted to American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Agent iu Human Progress and Power. — The AVhoIe Scale of Civilization Enlarged. . 150 MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.— Realization of the Highest ]^ Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure and Operation of the Machine. — Net-Work of Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's Experiments, Labors, Discourage- ments, and Triumphs. — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and Other Honors, Bestowed upon Him by Crowned Heads 244 FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO THE UNTRACKED RE- i^a GIONOF THE NORTH-WEST, OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— Fremont a Pioneer of Em- pire. — National Objects of this Tour. Enchanting Record of Adventures. Surveys and Researches. — His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that WonderfiJ Gateway in the Rocky Mountains, CONTENTS. 15 the Sonth Pass. — Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He Enriches Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country before Entirely Unknown 285 DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER AS A PREVENTI\T: OF PAIN.— is« Instinctive Dread of Pain. — Persistent Search for a Preventive. — Discovery of the Long-Sought Se- cret. — Honor Due to the Medical Science of America. — Curious Religious Objections. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration before a Crowded and Breathless Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred by Science upon the Human Race 324 INVENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM, THE SEWING- 1846 MACHINE. — The Woman's Friend. — Romantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Produc- tion. — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret. — His Ingenuity, Struggles and Triumphs. — A Machine at Last. — World-Wide Introduction of the Device. — The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected to the Amount of 3500,000,000 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. . . 332 EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. HH LYNCH, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.— Inter- est in the Holy Land. — Equipmeut of the United States Expedition. — On Its Way to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount Carmel. — Passage Down the Jordan. — The Sacred River Successfully Cir- cumnavigated, Surveyed, and Traced to Its Source. — Wild and Impressive Scenery. — Twenty Days and Nights upon tlie " Sea of Death." — It is Explored, and Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. — Important Results to Science 354 DISCOVERY OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFORNIA.— First Practical Discovery 1849 of the Precious Metal. — Simple Accident that Led to It. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it wa.n Disclosed. — The News Spreads Like Wild-Fire to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigrants from all Countries. — Their Trials. — Life Among the Diggers. — Nucleus of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden Commonwealth of the American Union 360 DISCOVERY OF PETROLEUM IN PENNSYLVANIA.— Discovery of Prodigious Quanti- IBM ties of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innumerable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires. — The Supply of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Exportations of the Article. — Vast Source of National V/ealth and In- dustry. — Revolution in Artificial Light. — Ancient Knowledge of this Oil. — Floating on Ponds and Creeks. — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin 476 THIRTY THOUSAND MILES OF RAILWAY IN THIRTY YEARS, AND EIGHTY ISM THOUSAND IN HALF A CENTURY.— Curious Chronicles Relating to the Introduction of Im- proved Means of Transit. — The Old and the New. — Development and Progress. — Numerous and Important Advantages. — Great Saving of Time and Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the United States. — First American Railway witli Steam as the Locomotive Power. — Small Beginnings : Great Results. — Amazing Growth and Expansion in all Directions. — Social and Business Changes. — Infancy of Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advance- ment — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of Capital Demonstrated. — Distant Sections and Interests Equalized. — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast Constructive Works Involved. — U. S. Enter- prise not Behindhand. — " Breaking tlie Ground." — Less than 20 Miles in 1829. — Some 30,000 Miles in 1859. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius Displ.\ved. — " Improvements " by the Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for Iron. — Luxury on Wheels. — Palace and Sleeping Cars. — Tremendous Speed Attained. — American and Foreign Lines. — Railways 16,000 Feet Above the Sea 645 SUCCESSFUL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC lf6« OCEAN. — The Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the Grandest of Human Enterprises. — Ten Years of DiflSculty and Failure in the Mighty Task. — The Name of Its Indomitable Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor — Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of this New-Born Agent of Civilization. — Moral Uses of the Cable 629 COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— Spikes of the Richest Gold and a Hammer 1869 of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Kail. — The Blows of tlie Sledge Telegraphed to All the 16 CONTENTS. Great Cities. — The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the Farthest East to the Golden Gate. — Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. — Seven Dave from New Yorlv to San Francisco. — Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth. — " Manifest Destiny " of the United States. 637 "MIRACLES OF SCIENCE," OR FOUR NEW WONDERS OF THE WORLD.— The 181? Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity. — The Telephone, or Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points. — The Phonograph, or Talking Machine, Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of Speech or Song, in all their Characteristics. — The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of Sound, however Slight or Remote. — Splendor of the Electric Rays. — Former Inventions in this Line. — Prof. Farmer's Early Success. — Ed- ison's Improved Device. — Its Special Characteristics. —Sanguine Expectations Entertained. — Interest Excited by the Telephone. — Encomiums from English Sources. — Principles of Construction and Use. — Simplicity and Serviceableness. — Tens of Thousands in Operation. How the Phonograph waf- Developed. — Other Inventions Fairly Eclipsed. — Its Appearance, Form, Outcome. — Words and Tones Recorded. — Astonishment and Delight. — Its Five Chief Features. — Marvels of the Micro- phone. — A Touch or Tick Audible for Miles. — Arrangement of the Apparatus. — Curious Feats Accomplished. — Explanation of this Property 681 VI. APPALLING PUBLIC CALAMITIES, DISASTERS, PANICS, ETC. DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours and Dying H!? Words. — Fortitude and Serenity Through all His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approach- ing Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The Whole World does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame. — He Anticipated an Early Death. — His Invariably Good Health. — Exposure in a Snowstorm. — Takes a Fatal Cold. — Last Letter Written by His Hand. — Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Characteristic Reply to His Wife. — Passes a Restless Night. — Alarming Condition the Next Day. — Medical Treatment of no Avail. — Calls for His Two Wills, Burns One. — Affecting Scene at His Bedside. — Last Words, " 'Tis Well ! " — Only One Day's Sick- ness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel. — Last Page In His Journal. — Re- entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His Remains 119 AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S GREAT GUN, THE "PEACE- 18« MAKER." — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. — Styled the Pride of the Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. — Array of Female Beauty. — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing of the Monster Gun. — " One More Shot ! " and it Bursts. — The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — Miracu- lous Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoyment to the Extreme of Woe 315. AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE " ANGEL OF DEATH."— Yellow Fever and Cholera Epi- l^l? demies at Different Periods. — Frightful Mortality and Panic. — Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation by the President of the United States. — The Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Hnman Nature Strikingly Illnstrated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the Earth. — Eras of American Epidemics. — Wide and Gliastly Ravages. — Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Suspended. — Ties of Affection Sundered. — Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives. — Rich Men Buried Like Paupers. — Money and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead Carts. — Activity in the Graveyarils — They Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Screams for Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Pa- tient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive. — Courageous Marriages. — Death in the Bridal Chamber. — .Vnecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease. — Quacks and Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated "Thieves' Vinegar." 368 LOSS OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP ARCTIC OF NEW YORK, BY ]«^ COLLISION WITH THE IRON STEAMER VESTA.— Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid- Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. — Sinking of the Noble Ship Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences Crowded Into that Awful Hour. — The Wail of Agony and Despair from the Fated Throng. — Her Non-Arrival, Painful Suspense. — The Dreadful News at Last. — Shock to the Public Mind. — Strong Build of the Arctic. — Prestige of the Collins Line. — A Casualty Undreamed of. — Surging Crowd in Wall Street. — Names of Lost and Saved Read. — Hope, Joy, Grief, Anguish. — The Sad Tale on aU Lips. — Captain Luce in the Hour of Woe. — Manliness of His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the Crew. — " Every Man for Himself " — 42V CONTENTS. 1 TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIAL WORLD.— Known as " The 1M7 (Jreat Panic." — A Sudden Universal Crasli in the Height of Prosperity. — Caused by Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Baulcs all over tlie Country. — Failure of the Oldest and Wealtli- iest Houses. — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Prostration of Every Brancli of Industry. — Pro- longed Embarrassment, Distrust, and buffering.— The Panic of 1837 : A Comparison. . . . 447 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S THEATER, WASHING- IMS TON, BY J. WILKES BOOTH.— Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, All the Chief OfiBcers of the Government. — The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim. — A Universal Wail of Anguisli Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in the History of the Country. — Fuueral Cortege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Couspirators. — Object of this Most Infamous of Crimes. — Singular Time of Its Perpetratiou. — \'irtual End of the War. — Dawn of Peace: Universal Joy — President Lincoln's Happy Frame of Mind.— How He Passed Hig Last Day.— Booth's Swift aud Bloody End.— Trial of His Accomplices 617 BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COMMERCIAL METROPOLIS OF 1871 THE NORTH-WEST.— Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations.— A Thirty Hours' Tornado of Fire in all Directions.— Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame.— Up- wards of Two Thousand Acres, or Seventy-Three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed: Loss, $200,000,000 653 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD, AT THE BALTIMORE AND POTO- ]^ MAC RAILWAY STATION, IN WASHINGTON, JULY 2.— His Departure from the White House with Secretary Blaine on a Brief Tour of Recreation. — Excellent Health and Spirits.— Arrival at the Depot. — A Lurking Assassin, C. J. Guiteau, Approaches in the Rear. — A Startling but Harm- less Shot, followed by Another which Enters the Body.— The President Sinks to the floor.— A Hideous Tragedy. — Capture of the Murderer. — The Wounded Victim Conveyed to tlie Executive Mansion. — The Nation Horrified, and the Whole Civilized World Shocked.— Condolences from the Remotest Courts and Governments. — Unaffected Sympatliy from all Political Parties. — Past Differences Hushed and Forgotten. — Eleven Weeks of Suffering. — Heroism and Resignation of the Patient. — Devotion and Fortitude of the President's Wife. — Removal to Lon^ Branch, N. J. — Temporary Relief. — Hover- ing between Life and Death. — Solemn Prayers for his Recovery. — Sudden and Fatal End of the Struggle. — A Pall over Four Continents. — Tributes from Sovereigns and Peoples the World Over. — The Wail and Lamentation of Mankind. — Funeral Procession and Ceremonies. — Queen Victoria's Floral Offering on the Bier. — At Rest, in Lake View Cemetery, Clevelaud, Ohio 705 VII. CELEBRATED CRIMINAL CASES, TRAGEDIES AND CONSPIRACIES, Etc. TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— Darkest Page in American Rev- 1180 olutionary History — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of America, Over to the British. — Movements of the Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Fru.'tration of the Crime. — Major Andre, tlie Brit- ish Spy, is Captured, aud Swings from a Gibbet. — Escape of Arnold to the Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England. — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by General Washington — In- famous Personal Transactions. — Reprimanded by His Chief. — Determines on Revenge — Correspond- 3uce with the Foe. — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Command of West Point. — Midnight Conference with Andre. — Andre Seized while Returning. — Astounding Evidence Against Him — Attempts to Bribe His Captors — Carried to American Head-Quarters. — Arnold Apprised of the Event — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — He Reaches a British Man-of-War. — Washington's E.xclamation at the News. — His Call on Mrs. Arnold. — Andre's Trial ar.'^ Conviction — Arnold's Reward for His Crime.— His Unlamented Death 48 FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON. -^^ — Fall of Hamilton at First Fire — His De.ath in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sensation and Solemn Obsequies in all Parts of the Land.— Mourned as One of the Founders of the Republic. — Indictment of the Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliaut Public Life. — Washington's Right- hand Man — Cliampion of the Federalists.— Burr's Career in the Revolution — His Notorious De- bauchery. — Finally Dismissed by Washington — Becomes Vice-President in 1800 — Deadly Personal Hatreds. — Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents — Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — PaciHc Explana- tions Spurned — Forced to Meet Burr. — Makes His Will in Anticipation. — Sings at a Banquet the Day Before. — Arrival of the Fatal Hour. — Hamilton's Mortal Wound — What He Said of the Event. — Conversation before Dying. — Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony against Dueling. — Heartless Condact of Burr — A Fugitive and aa Outlaw 127 18 CONTENTS. CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR —Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Domin- ]»!^ ion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, witl\ Burr as Sovereign — Seizure of His Flo- tilla and Dispersion of His Men wlien Ready to Embark, by the Federal Forces.^Capture and Ar- raignment of Burr for High Treason. — Melancholy End of the Conspirator. — " Theodosia, the Beloved." — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in His Plans — Their E.xpedition Arranged. — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the Whole Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — Attemjit to Es- cape. — The Iron-Hearted Man in Tears — His Social Fascination. — Preparations for tlie Trial — Its Legal and Forensic Interest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as Man of Infamy. — De- votion of His Dangliter Theodosia — Lifelong and Unalterable Love. — Her Mj'sterious Fate. — Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning 142 DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, AND JOHN RANDOLPH, 1825 UNITED STATES SENATOR FROM VIRGINIA.— Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Official Document — The Puritan and "Black- leg " Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Combat. — Words and Acts of these Two Fore- most Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor." — Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders. — Ancient Political Antagonists. — Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm. — Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay Demands Satisfaction — Reconciliation Refused. — Bladensburg the Dueling Ground. — Pistols the Weapons Chosen. — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's Secret Resolve. — Going to tlie Field of Blood. — View of this Shrine of " Chivalry." — Salutations of the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the Scene. — Dis- tance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchiinge of vShots. — Clay Calls it " Cliild's Play ! " — Another Fire, No Injury. — " Honor " Satisfied — Pleasant Talk with Each Other 196 CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THE MOST NOTED PIRATE 1831 OF THE CENTURY.— His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Years, Against the Commerce of all Nations. — Terror Inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean and the Enemy of Mankind- — Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered and Destroyed. — Their Crews and Passengers, Male and Female, Instantly Murdered. — His Capture and Execution 222 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON AT THE UNITED 1S35 STATES CAPITOL IN WASHINGTON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— Failure of the Pis- tols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously upon His As.sailant, and is Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed to have Insti- gated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to lie a Lunatic without Accomplices. — His History and Trial 286 MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. I8« S. MACKENZIE —Deep Laid Plot to Seize tlie Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black Flag, and Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered, Burnt, Their Crews Butchered, and Women and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a United States Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader — Tlie Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm — First Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spencer's Hold upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Misplaced. — A JIan of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie In- formed of the Plot. — Treats it as Wild and Improbable — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found in His Razor Case. — Alarming Disaffection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated. — Close Investigation of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die — Their Fate Announced to Them. — Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet on their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of Each Other. — Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All Hands Cheer the Ship — Raising the Banner of the Cross 291 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLIONAIRE OF BOSTON, BY ]!^ PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF HARVARD COLLEGE,— High Social Position of the Par- ties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the Community, on the Discovery of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances Leading to the Murderer's Detection. — Solemn and E.xciting Trial. — Account of the Mort.al Blow and Disposal of the Remains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame. — His Mysterious Disappearance. — Arrest of Web- ster at Night — Behavior in Court — He Boldly Addresses the Jury. — Hung Near the Spot of His Birth . • »70 CONTENTS. 19 REIGN OF THjs VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALIFORNIA.— Revoiucion in the Admin- 18M istration of Justice. — Powerlessiiess and ludiffereiice of the Regular Authorities. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret Chamber of Judgment. — Sudden Seiz- ure and Trial of Noted Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell. — Swift and Terrible Execu- tions. — Renovation of Society 395 ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON. PRESTON S. BROOKS.— Km Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Bare Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed and Bleeding. — Sumner's Great Kansas Speech for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sum- ner's Scorching Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined On. — Mr. Brooks Their Champion. — Two D.ay's Watch for His Victim. — Finds Him Alone at His Deslc. — Approaches Unobserved. — A quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr Sumner is Instantly Stunned. — His Ineffectual De- fense. — Brooks's Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage Over Sumner. — Storm of Public Indigna- tion. — Action Taken by Congress. — Reign of Terror at the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery. — Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retribu- tions. 437 VIII. REMARKABLE REFORMS, DELUSIONS, AND EXCITEMENTS IN THE MORAL, EDUCATIONAL AND RELIGIOUS WORLD, Etc. RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER-DAY SAINTS," UNDER 183? JOSEPH SMITH, THE "PROPHET OF THE LORD."— Smith the "Mohammed of the West." — His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Secret History of this Transaction. Organization of the First Church.— Apostles Sent Forth and Converts Obtained in all Parts of the World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Ziou." — Smith's Character and Bloody Death. — Brighani Young His Successor. — Removal to Utah, the " Promised Land." .... 214 BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION.— First Temperance Society ]>^ in the United States. — Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm Attending the " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Ros- trum, and Sway Multitudes by their Eloquence. — Father Mathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gougb, Dow, and Others. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Tay- lor's Whiskey-Jug. — Farragut's Substitute for Grog 276 EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD.— Miller as a Man and Preacher.- His Ex- H12 citing Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter-Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared. — Zealous Promulgation of His Views. — Scores of Thousands of Con- verts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by Many for the Coming Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — His Calm and Happy Death. . . 307 TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF FREE POPULAR EDUCATION.— An Experiment in Behalf isw of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Country Previous to such Efforts. — Early Scenes and Customs. — Public Law Invoked and Applied. — Impulse Given to the Work. — Progress and Results. — America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World. — Female Educa- tion. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern Idea. — No National System of Education. — Un- dertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of Wise Legislation. — State Vieing with State. — School- houses in "ye olden time." — The East and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion. — Some Strange Contrasts. — Architectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appli- ances. — Congressional Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington. — Grand Aim and Scope. — Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher Institutions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then and Now. — Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S. — Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils. ... 667 SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPING S.— Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be 1847 Opened Between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Alleged Revelations from the Unseen World. — Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded New York Village, of this Great Modern Wonder. — Its Development Among all Nations in all Lands. — Astonishing and Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations. — Theories of Explanation. — Investigations and Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Her- schel, and Other Scientists. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — Tendency of the Phenomena. — Thirty Years' History ,...,..>««• 340 20 co>n:£NTS- THE 'GREAT AWAKEXDfG' IX THE BEUGIOrS WORLD.— like m SEghtr BiKairv «^ Wi»i, k Sweeps fzom tbe Mbmar to tfae Fteifie.— Ciovded PtMrer Haeea^ HeU DuIt in £tst Oct a^ TovB, fzam Che Gnose HBk of tke Sa^ and Sv^kej m (^tat BotaiB, m Sew Totfc, PWiMfhri. CUaga^ Bostoa, etc— 0e: Fnakfia asi 3Xr. Wihe- fidd. — The Keviwd of 1857 SpaataBEoas. — So Ti ■*■ i c» Orgawfapis. — Its bnaediate Cause. — Cci- vecal Bin of Piimi hi — -Aasjetr Eor Highs bCeiess. — ^AH Dkvs of the Week AEfce.— ^BBneas ]^ m the Warfc.- Te t^ gi apM B g B^^ems TiSa^.—Sew Yczk a C^terof IkfccKe.- FaltOB Soeet Fnrer Mffting. — Se^^ ia BotoB's Theater. — >iev ThpTS and Aebcas. — CootlesB Be- 4H9tB £or Fkzras.— A Woadosd Boofc.— Soikog Siocal Bes]l&— Men o£ VtofeKS Brf<»med.— Czne aial S^Ue Fmo^ed.— btideis. GawMFm, Fggi&ts.— Jsae FieaHBi's G
a icrooga tbe Twenij-foor Stares. — A Xational Ot»- tioa oa the Graiai^sti ScaLe. — Ones, States, Legisiazoiea aati Gotucois, Vie in tbeir Demoostiations at Bespeet.— The Venaafafe PitziiK Eaces the Toari» and Stands beside the Bi-wins of His GieaC DefMiai FrJend, WadiagtaB.— ^WaAiagtaa aad La&jecte.- Ttbdle Qiofities of the Hazijms. 186 BBnXIAST MTSICAI. TOUB OF JEXST LDTD, THE QUEES OF SOXa— Twenty pa Thouaad F^Bons W ek on t Her AnJraL— TnnwfFwfc't Beantr aad Povn of Her Voice.— A Whole CoaSaenC ^— .£*—■ J wiA Her Knrtotiag Kdo&a.— Fkaeatt ExhilaatioB ot FeeE^ Th iu^hu t Ae laad hr the Freaace at Ae Fair Stglitiwgalc.— Honots fam Wefceta, Clay aad OAKlNgHCazies.—HerPtasesFintbeWideWcrid.— The Vocal Fto^y of the Age. . . 386 THE GREAT DTTEBXATIOSAL REGATTA AT COWES, EXGLAXD.— The Tadit ^a * Aaetica' Distances, or Xeaiir Ejghc IGIes, the Whole Fleet of Swift aad Spleadid Coapetitoa^ aad Whs 'the Cap o€ aE SiSMmB.'—Gxaaiat aal Mas Exeoi^ Speetade of the Kind Enr Kamn.— Qaeen Tictocia WitBesees the 3fateh. — UaiTetaal A^fawirfiiHeat at Oe Besolt. — Admiz>- tioa EBcited by the " ■^iBFrira's'' Bcamifal Model and iBgemoas Big. 403 BECEPTIOX OF GOVERXOR KOSSUTH. THE GREAT HUXGARIAX EXILE, AS Jgt THE IXVITED GUEST OF THE XATIOX.— Sifendiii 3IiIBau7- Pageant in Xew Toik, cm ^ ArriraL — Wefcom&i and Baccoecai hr Ft^sHAebS ttllmore- — ^Receired with IKaciQgnisiied Official Boaocs OB the Floor at Caogxese. — fie Eloqaentlr Fkadi His CoantzrV Caaee in All F^zts at the I ml r Ilium. Coagfatahtoey A^iea^s^ AcdaaatioK, etc:.- A Trae-Heatted Patriot^ and Gieatest Ontor of &e Dsr. 413 EXHIBITIO X OF THE IXDUSTRY OF ALL XATIOXS, VS XEW TOBK.— CoiMraetioB 1«! of &e Crj-sal Palace, a CGkaeal BmTiffi^ of Glass asd Lroo. — ^Foor Aczss of Surface Coreied with the TzEasares of Ait, Science and Miihiaiiiii, float E*eiT Land. — l aa^ i u atiim of the Enterprise by Fna^^ Pi e ice- — Fire Thfiiiiiil CoalxibMoia.— Spl^dor of Oe Palace of bdnttzy by Day; iBi Goigeaas UliaiiBiiiiai at Xi^ht.— Beaaty, TTtifity, AnnseaKBt.- The Giand ladastries of Ciril- i Taa^ by SaA a l^hy^r-Laster Beflerted oa Aasetica. 431 vIONTESTS. 21 GRAM) EMBASST FROM THE EiTPIRE OF JAPAX. WITH A TBE.\TT OF PEACE «» AM) COMMERCE. Tu THE UNITED STATES GO' •-• — -- - _- ; ^^a»,aojs Etet Ses: iroia tba: Anoest CoSBar to a Foragn Load. — Tz r^&omi Bs- " ^ : ;' ^rrradaa to the Chief Odk — r . ~ - . -: ^ool CoetBBe. liaaaen, C^ - — - -.—Headed In- Ensei - — — -fi»» to the HoBeL— >: - - :_i — Ho^K — Silmar- - — — — ^TT=r the Ttojc-- - - - — . — — iad DioOenes — ~ Xa^mT,~ liie Latb— — — ■■ TirL — Asoeisfcn^: EiTJ'sai&i Iv Tit — ^ » r .r; iri: — -^-H-rj. .15 Message ' .... . . 4e5 TOUR OF HIS ROTAL EIGH>I- 7.7 77 "^-il.: 7 7:>: - -■ - . . —Hot Wi - - - - > ASTOSISHIXG FEATS OF H0KSE-TA3inXG PERFORMED BT MR JOHX S RARET. ] — Tbe Most Sava^ aad Fanoas A-;_fc: )lade TiacEaUe as Lanis.— The Fe m oufe aad Far- Famed " Cioiser' lies DocOe at Hk M^teT* Fe^t.— A--risr=:r-TS rf W"— f=T sr ^ A^rzirrao« fcj- Crc>v^-ie>i Andi^Kes — ^BrilBaBt Homxs it — . :f Me. Razev's Method and Saccess. — Details of ;it ^ — . 509 THE XATIOSAL GRANGE MO VEAfEVT - -fl^'.:-; — r-.imges SoBgtit ia the RelanoBS be-rre „ - : ;:-!55 aad Aii^ — A STStem of r"-! —■■;_. /AiatioBs — ]^izoBsafHK5 - - — IaiaadT« Piotee&a^ i^ " — --" '"^raaje Fooded ia \l"i> _ - •-• - Hii^s. — Maisil Pks- ^SDceaaoit. — SaiaR Er _ ■ Giwth ia Fli^ .. - -TbeWeaaadS: — - - ^sssAoiaB.— PiTT 7>saTOmid— So: - -.adeis Clcd. rie* — 7'rv>diicis — - Tiade Ckslo^ — I^ -■ " - — • aata.r= — ^-- — CEX-TEXMAL COiCMEMORATIOX OF 7:77 7 7; 7 TIEPUBIJC-— Tetr of] Jaliilee, Fetiial, aad l^geaat. UmN^has: ' — ~ -raova c£ 7iri Ns- tioa- — AUaka of Xeaily FoKT Gieai: C." r. A»iiA^:t- .-» ::' TbeCimi^ AaaimaiT. — ^Le^^aiiaB r — A Gia&d Exjo- 5::::3 - ENCE (Frontispiece) 2. Preface, --------- 3. The Opened Pages, -_---- 4. Symbolical Head-piece, _ - - - - B. Genius of Art, ------- 6. Riaging of the Bell, July 4th. 1776, - 7. Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, 8 Hoisting First Naval Flag, - - - - - 9. John Paul Jones; Portrait and Autograph, 10. First American Naval Victory, 11. Wonderful Dark Day, May 19, 1780, - 12. Traveling during the Dark Day, - - - 13. Change of Scene after the Dark Day, 14. The House where CornwalUs Surrendered 15. Arnold's Reward for Treason, - - - - 16. Capture of Major Andre, - - - - - 17. General Arnold, with Autograph, - - - 18. AVest Point in 1780, - 19. Arnold's Head-quarters, - - - - - 20. Corxwallis's Surrender, - - - - 21. Cornwallis; Portrait and Autograph, 22. "Washington's Sword, ------ 23. The Washington Elm, Cambridge, Mass., 24. Washington's Resignation, - - - - 25. Amity between England and America, - 26. George the Third; Portrait and Autograph, - 27. First Minister to England,— Reception OF John Adams, ------ 28. John Adams; Portrait and Autograph, - 29. Enrolling the Constitution, - _ - - 30. Convention at Philadelphia, 1787, - 31. Franklin Pleading for Pacification, - 32. Washington's Inauguration Bible, - - - 33. First Inauguration of a President, 34. Presidential Mansion, 1789, - - - _ 35. Presidential Mansion, 1876, - - - - 36. Treating with the Indians, - - . - - 37. Wayne's Defeat of the Indians, 38. Anthony Wayne; Portrait and Auiograjih, - 39. General St. Clair; Portrait and Autograph, - 40. "Little Turtle;" Portrait, - - - - 41. Results of the Cotton-Gin, - - - - - 42. Eli Whitney's Cotton-Gin, 1703, - 43. Eli Whitney; Portrait and Autograph, - 44. Causes of the Whiskey Insurrection in Penn., 45. Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 46. David Bradford; Portrait, 47. General Henry Lee; Portrait, - - - - 48. Washington, D. C, in 1876, - - - - 49. National Capitol in 1876, ----- 117 50. Symbolic Statue of Ameiica, on the U.S.Capitol, 117 51. Martha Washington; Portrait and Autograph, 120 52. Death of Washington, December 14, 1799, 122 63. George Washington, as Colonel, - , _ 123 54. George Washington, General U. S. A., - - 124 65. George Washington, President of the United States; Portrait and Autograph, - - 124 56. Tomb of Washington, ------ 126 57. Scene of the Burr and Hamilton Duel, Wee- hawken, -------_i3i 58. Hamilton's Tomb, - 127 69. Aaron Burr, with Autograph, - - - - 128 60. Alexander Hamilton with Autograph, - - 128 61. Total Solar Eclipse, in 1806, - - - 135 62. Progress of the Solar Eclipse, - - - - 136 63. Total Eclipse, in 18G9, ----- 137 64. Eclipse, as seen in Brazil, ----- 140 65. Burr's Flight, 142 6G. Breaking up of Burr's Expedition, - - 146 67. BuiT and His Deluded Followers, - - - 146 68. Theodosia; Portrait and Autograph, - - 148 69. First Steam-boat on the Hudson, - - - 150 70. "B-ohert Fulton; Portrait and Autograph, - 151 71. Fulton's First Steam-boat, - - - 153 72. After the Earthquake, 156 73. Scene of the Great Earthquake in the West, - 168 74. Earthquake t.cENE in San Francisco, - 161 75. Perry's Flag on Lake Erie, - - _ _ 163 76. Commodore Perry ; Portrait and Autograph, 165 77. Battle of Lake Erie,— Perry's Victory, 167 78. General Harrison; Portrait and Autograph, - 170 79. American Defenses at New Orleans, - - 171 80. Andrew Jackson; Portrait and Autograph, - 174 81. Battle of New Orleans, — Jackson's Terrific Slaughter of the British, - 176 82. Destruction by the Great Gale and Flood, - 178 83. The Ever-Memorable Gale, September 23, 1825, 180 84. Horrors of the Whirlwind throughout New England, --------183 85. The Landing of Lafayette at New York, - 186 86. Lafayette; Portrait and Autograph, - - 188 87. Sword of Honor Presented to Lafayette, - 190 88. Lafayette's Residence, ----- 191 80. Lafayette's Birthplace, ----- 193 90. Lafayette's Tomb, - 195 91. Preliminaries of the Code of Honor, - - 196 02. Henry Clay; Portrait and Autograph, - - 198 93. John Randolph; Portrait a7id Autograph, - 200 94. Dueling-Ground at Bladensbcrg, - - 202 95. The Victor's Wreath, 206 96. Robert Y. Hayne; Portrait, - - - - 207 97. Daniel Webster; Portrait, - - - - 209 98. Webster's Reply to Hayne. - - - 213 ILLUSTRATIONS. 23 9S. 100. 101. 102. 103. IW. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 12«. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. ISO. SUBJECT. rAOE. iJoseph Smith; Portrait and Autograph, - 216 Brigham Young; J'ortrait and Autograph, - 218 Mormon Temple, .__--- 220 Salt Lake Citv, the Mormon Zion, - - 221 Appeal of a Beautiful Girl to Gibbs to Spare her Life, 222 Pirate Gibbs; Portrait, ----- 224 GiDBS BlTTCHERISa THE CREW OF ONE OF HIS Prizes, ------- 226 Meteoric Shower at Boston, - - - 228 Meteoric Shower, as seen at Niagara Falls, - 230 Kemarkable Jleteorio Display on the Missis- sippi, ------ --. 233 The Preservation, ------ 236 Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, ---...- 238 Richard Lawrence; Portrait, - - - - 240 Hanging the Telegraph Wire, . . - - 244 The Original Telegraphic Instrument, 246 Professor Morse; Portrait and Autograph, - 248 Orders of Glory Conferred on Professor Morse, 250 Monster Petition to Congress, - . - - 252 John Quincy Adams; Portrait and Autograph, 254 John Quincy Adams Defending the Right of Petition in Congress, - - 258 Safe Place for the Key to Public Funds, - 263 Thomas H. Benton; Portrait and Autograph, 265 Fac-Simile Copy of Expunging Kesolution, - 267 Singular Form of Auroral Arch, - - - 269 Magnificent Aurora Borealis of No- vember 13 AND 14, 1837, - - - - 271 View of the Aurora Borealis in its early Stages, 274 EtTect of the Temperance Keformation, - 276 Signing the Pledge, 279 Distinguished Temperance Advocates, 282 Exploring the North-west, - - - - 285 Planting -American Flag on the Rocky Mount- ains, by Fremont, ------ 287 John C. Fremont; Portrait and Autograph, - 288 Fremont on his Great Exploring Tour to the Far West and Rocky Mountains, - - 289 Mutiny on Board the United States Brig Som- ers; Hanging of the Ringleaders from the Yard-arm, 297 The Black Flag Intended to be Raised on Bo.ard the United States Brig Somers, - 291 Commodore MacKenzie, with Autograph, - 203 Midshipman Spencer, with Autograph, - - 295 View of the Comet when Nearest the Earth, 303 Appearance of the Comet in Full Splendor, .-..--- 304 Telescopic View of the Comet, - - - 306 The Great Day Prophesied by the Second Adventists, ------- 307 Symbolical Illustrations of the Sec- ond Advent Prophecies, - - - - 309 William Miller; Portrait and Autograph, - 313 Stockton's Great Gun, the '* Peacemaker," - 315 President Tyler; Portrait and Autograph, - 316 Secretary Gilmer; Portrait and Autograph, 318 Explosion of the Great Gun on Board the United States Steamship Princeton, - - 319 Secretary Upshur; Portrait and Autograph, 320 Commodore Stockton; Portrait and Auto- graph, 322 Relieving Pain by the Use of Ether, - - 324 The Three Claimants of the Discovery of Painless Surgery, by Ether, - - - - 326 Monument Erected in Honor of the Discovery of Ether, ----- 330 NO. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. ISO. 157. 158. 159. 130. la. 162,, 163. 164. 165. 16 . 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 175. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. ISO. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 20S. SUBJECT. PAJR, The Inventor Toiling in His Garret, - - 332 TS.Waa'H.ovie, Jr.; Portrait and Autograph, - 331 The Old and New: Sewing by Hand and Machine, --336 House in which Spiritual Rappings Originated, 340 The Misses Fox; Portraits, - - - . 340 D. D. Home; Portrait, ----- 343 Cora L. V. Hatch; Portrait, - - - - 345 Spiritual Autograph of Lord Bacon, - - 346 A. J. Davis; Portrait, ----- 345 Judge Edmonds; Portrait, - - - - 346 Spiritual Autograph of Swedenborg. - - 345 Storming of Chapultepec, - - - .347 President Polk; Portrait and Autograpf- - 348 General Taylor; Portrait and Autajraph, - 349 Santa Anna; Portrait and Autograph, - - 350 General Scott; Portrait and Autograph, - 351 General Scott's Grand Entrance into the Mexican Capital, - - - - 362 Lieutenant Lynch; Portrait and Autograph, 356 Valley OF THE Jordan AND Dead Sea, - 357 Right Bank of the Dead Sea, - - - - 358 Mining Operations in California, - - - 360 Sutter's 1\Till, where Gold was First Discovered in 1848. ----- 362 John A. Sutter; Portrait, ----- 363 James W. Marshall; Poj'^j'ai*, - . - - 366 Struck with the Cholera, ----- 368 Monument to the Victims of Cholera, - 370 Horrors of tlie Great Epidemic, - - - 372 Professor Webster's Murder Appliances, - 376 Doctor Parkman; Portrait and Autograph, - 378 Professor Webster; Portrait and Autograph, 380 Professor Webster's Cell in Prison, - 382 Jenny Lind; Portrait and Autograph, - - 388 P. T. Barnum; Portrait and Autograph, - 390 Jenny Lind's Appearance at Castle Garden, 392 Double Execution in San Francisco, - - 396 Seal of the California Vigilance Committee, 397 Executions by the Vigilance Commit- tee, IN San Francisco, . • - . 400 George Steers; Portrait, ----- 406 Yacht America; J. C. Stevens, Commo- dore, --------407 *' Cup of All Nations," Won by the America, 409 United States Steamer Mississippi, convey- ing Kossuth, ------- 412 Governor Kossuth; Portrait and Autograph, 414 Grand Military Reception of Govern- or Kossuth in New York, - - - 417 Interior of the AVorld's Fair, New Y''ork, - 421 Theodore Sedgwick; Por-trait and Autograph, 423 Crystal Palace of New y'ork, for the Exhibition of the Industries of All Nations, -------- 425 Steamship, Arctic, ------ 429 Loss of the Collins Steamship Arctic by Collision at Noonday in Mid- ocean, -------- 433 Assault on Senator Sumner, by P. S. Brooks, 443 Liberty for Kansas, ------ 437 Hon. Charles Sumner, with Autograph, - 441 Hon. P. S. Brooks, with Autograph, - - 444 Hon. A. P. Butler, with Autograph, - - «s Run on a Bank, ------- 44/ Excitement in Business Circles during THE Great Panic, ----- 449 Effects of the Hard Times, - - - - 461 Book of Requests for Prayers, - - - - 466 Group of Eminent Revival Preachers, dur- ing the National Century, - - - . 4flC 24 ILLUSTRATIONS. ntlRJECT. KO. FAOR. 209. Dwlght L. Moody ; Portrait, - - - - 464 210. Ira 1). Sankey; Portrait, ----- 464 211. Uevival Meetings, Moody asd Sankey, 4(i6 212. State Capital of Illinois, 469 213. Debate BEfWEEN Lincoln AND Douglas, 470 214. Stephen A. Do\ig\as; Portrait and Autograph, 474 215. Petroleum Wells, 476 216 Petroleum Wells in Pennsylvania, - - - 478 217. Process of Boring for Petroleum, - . - 479 218. Burning of One of the Great Oil AV'ells, 482 219. Japanese Box Containing the Treaty, - - 485 220. Reception of THE Kmb.\ssy fro.m Japan, 487 221. Ambassadors Sinimi Boojsen Nokami and Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami, - - - - 491 22i. The Prince of Wales at Washington's Tomb, 494 223. Prince of Wales; Portrait and Autograph, - 495 224. Ball Given TO the Prince OF Wales, - 498 225. Flag of Fort Sumter after the Bombardment, 502 226. Major Anderson, with Autograph, - - - 503 227. General Beauregard, with Autograph, - - 505 228. Interior of Fort Sumter after Bombardment, 507 229. "Cruiser " Untamed, - ----- 6U9 230. John S. Rarey; Portrait, ----- 511 231. Mr. Rarey's Method of Taming Horses, ^ - 514 232. Monument on the Bull Run Battle-field, - 518 233. General McDowell; Portrait and Autograph, 519 234. General Johnson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 521 235. Battle of Bull Run, ----- 623 236. Interior of the Tower of the Monitor, - - 526 237. Com. Buchanan ; Portrait and Autograph, - 528 238. Combat between the Merrimac and Monitor, 531 239. Lieut. Worden ; J'ortrait and Autograph, - 533 24". Burying the Dead at Autietam, . - - 535 2<*. General .McClellan; /*oWra(/a/wf ^H^Of/ra^A, - 537 242. General Burnside; Portrait and Autograph, - 538 243. Battle of ,\ntietam, ----- 539 244. General " Stonewall" Jackson; Portrait, - 540 245. General Hooker; Portrait and Autograph, - 541 246. Pen used iu Signing the Proclamation, - - 544 247. Secretary Seward; Portrait and Autograph, - 645 248. Secretary Stanton; Portrait and Autograph, 546 249. President Lincoln; Portrait and Autograph, 547 2.50. Proclam.^tiox of E-MANcipation, - - 549 2,'»1. Operations at Vicksburg, ----- 554 2.5.'. General J. C. Pemberton, ----- 556 253. Sieoe AT Vicksburg BY General Grant, 557 254. General .McPherson; Portrait, - - - - 559 255. Interview between Grant and Pemberton, - 560 256. General Meade's Head-quarters, - - - 563 257. General Meade, with Autograph, . - - 5C5 258. Battle of Gettysburg, ------ 667 259. General Longstreet, with Autograph, - - 569 260. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg, - - 571 261. Henry Ward Beecher; Vignette Portrait, • 613 262. Beecher Defendi.vg the A.meeican Union, in Exeter Hall, London, - - 575 263. Mr. Beecher's Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., - 579 264. Merchant Vessel burned by the Alabama, - 581 265. Captain Seinmes, with Autograph, - - - 583 266. Captain Winslow, with Autograph. - - - 685 267. Contest between the Kearsarge and -Alabama, 587 268. Farragut's Flag-Ship, " Hartford," - - -690 2(M. Admiral Farragut, ------ 591 270. Admiral Porter, - - 591 271. Admiral Foote, - - - - , - - 591 272. Admiral Dupont. - , 691 273. Admiral Farragut's Victory in Mobile Bay, - 594 274. Head-quarters .Atlanta, Ga., - - - - 598 275. General Sherman; Portrait and Autograph, - 600 276. Sherman's Grand March through the South, 602 277. General Lee's Surrender to Lieut. Gen. Grant, 607 rub.iect. KO. PASS. 278. Richmond Entered by the Union Army, - 610 279. Lincoln's Early Home, . _ . _ - 517 2^u. Ford's Theater at Washington, - _ _ 618 281. ASSA.SSISATION of President Lincoln, - 6'20 282. House where Lincoln died, . . . _ cjl 283. J. Wikes Booth; Portrait and Autograph, - 622 284. Lincoln's Residence at Springfield, 111., - - 623 285. Sergeant Boston Corbett; Portrait, - - - 624 286. Burial Place of Lincoln, ----- 626 287. Section of the Atlantic Cable, - - - - 629 288. Cyrus W. Field; Portrait and Autograph, - 631 289. Arrival of the Great Eastern with Cable, - 635 290. Mountain Scene on the Pacific Railroad, - 648 291. COillPLETION OF THE P.\( IFIC RAILROAD, - 641 292. Traveler's Dependence in Olden Times, - - 645 293. Locomotive " Rocket," - . . _ - g46 294. Locomotive of To-day, - - . _ _ 647 295. Original Steam Car, ------ 648 296. Modern Railway Car, ------ 649 297. Metropolitan Elev.\ted Railroad, N.Y , 652 298. Mr. Ogden's House Untouched in the Midst of the Great Fire, ------ 653 299. Burning of Chicago, Oct. 8 and 9, 1871, - 667 300. Emble.m of I.sdustrv; I'ignellp, - - . 660 301. Symbols of Co-operative Labor Organizations, 662 302. Spirit of the Grange MovE.MEXT, - - 664 303. The School-house as it was, - - - 667 304. Yale College in 1784, 668 305. Old King's College, 668 306. First Harvard College, 668 307. North-Western University, - . - - 669 308. Normal School, New York, - - - - 670 309. View of Yale College Grounds, - - - - 672 310. View of Harvard College Grounds, - - - 673 311. The Great Catholic Cathedral, New York, - 675 312. Archbishop McCloskey; Portrait, . - - 676 313. Consecration of the First A.merican Cardinal, ------- 678 314. Electric Lamp, ------- 681 31.5. Electric Light AT Sea, - - - . - 683 316. Thomas A. Edison, with Autograph, - - 684 317. The Phonograph, ----- . 685 318. House in which .Jefferson wrote the Declara- tion of Independence. - - - - 689 319. Opening of the Centennial E.xhibition, 691 320. The Corliss Engine, ------ (;92 321. E.xhibition Buildings in Philadelphia, 694 322. Independence Hall, July 4, 1876, - - 695 323. Union SQO.tRE, New York, July 4, 1876, - 697 324. Reading The Original Declaration of Independence, .Tulv 4, 1876. - - - 699 326. Entrance of the N. Y. 7th Regiment, - - 701 326 State Avenue, at the Centennial, - - - 702 327. Woman's Pavilion, at the Centennial, - - 703 328. The Tunisian Tent, at the Centennial, - - 704 329. All Hail TO THE Hereafter! . - - 706 330. Flag of the German Empire, - - - - 707 331. E.MPERfiR Willi.\m, with Autograph, - - 707 332. Assassination OF President Garfield, - 709 333. View of Garfield's Home at Mentor, - - 710 334. Portrait of .Mrs. Garfield, - - - - 711 335. Portrait of Prest. Garfield's Mother, - - 714 336. Portraits of Drs. Agncw, Hamilton and Bliss, 716 337. Francklyn Cottage, Elberon, - - - 717 3.'18. Portrait of President Garfield, - - - 718 339. Death of President Garfield, - - - - 720 340. Body Lying in State in the Capitol Rotunda, 722 341. Viewing the Remains at Cleveland, O., - • 724 342. Receiving A'ault. ...--- 725 31.1. Lake View Cemetery, - . - . . 726 114. '■ Victoria's " Floral Offering, - - - - 726 BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC— 1776. Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, Jnly Fourth, 1776. The Gauntlet of Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire hy Her Youngest Colonies. — Vast Disparity, in Power and Resources, between the Contestants. — The whole World looks on Astonislied. — Seven Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — Tlie American Cause Triumphant.— Grandest Modern Event. — America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obstinacy of King George. — Burning Eloquence of Pat- riclc Henry. — His Summons, " We Must Figlit." — Wa.shington Endorses tliis Sentiment. — Determina- tion of the People. — War Preferred to Submission. — Momentous Action by Congress. — Separation from England Decreed.— Effect of the Act in America. — Its Reception in England. — Excitement of the King and Court. — Lord Chatham, America's Advocate. — His Passionate Change of Views. — Scorch- ing Speech against the Colonies.— He is Struck Dead while Speaking. — Magnanimity of Burke and Fox. — Recognition from France Secured. — Her Timely Aid in the Struggle. — Victories over the Britisli Armies. — England Gives Up tlie Contest. — World-wide Welcome to the New Nation. " It will be celebrated by euceeedin^ peneralinnB. as the creat anniversary feelival. It nueht to bp commemorated as the day of delivernnce, by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ouL'bt to be solemnized with pomp end parade, with shows, games, sports, gune, belli, bon- fires, and illuminations, from one eod of the continent to the other, from this time forth, forevermore.''— John Adaus. NE HUNDRED YEARS ago, namely, on the Fourtli of July, I77C, tliere was born in the western world a New Nation, — the Ri:- PUBLic OF THE United States. Defiance lo tyrants was emblazoneti in empyreal light upon her brow, and Freedom and Justice were the frontlets between her e3-es. Mon- arclis, crowned with kingly dia- dems, stood awed at the august manifesto, and at the solemn ar- raignment of King George before the judgment of mankind, and parliaments and cabinets started in dismay to their feet ; but the People, as thej' descried the eagle of Liberty spreading her wings, and soaring proudlj' aloft, breath- ed freer and took stronger heart, as the clear ring of her voice sounded through the air, declar- ing, with grandly rounded enun- ciation, that "all men are created equal." Refusing to pay the tribute of taxation arbitrarily imjiosed upon them at the point of the baj'onet by the British crown, — RINGING OF THE BELL, JULY 4, 1776. 26 BIRTH OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. failing, too, to move the king and his min- isters from their career of liauglity and reckless obstinacy, — the thirteen American colonies found themselves reduced to the alternative of abject submission to their so-called royal masters, or of armed resist- ance. Already there had flashed through- out the country the electric words of Pat- rick Henry, " We must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us. I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! " And as the blood of patriot hearts had now flowed freely and bravely at Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, Washington declared, in words of solemn emphasis and characteristic brevitj', " Nothing short of Indepemdence, it ap- pears to me, can possibly do." He also warmly approved and commended Paine's pamphlet, " Common Sense," written to this end. The sons of liberty shouted their responsive acclaim to this manly summons from the great American soldier — Wash- ington — and, like the sound of many wa- ters, the spirit of national independence which thus possessed the people came upon the continental congress, then in session in the State-house at Philadelphia, Pennsyl- vania. It was in this temple of freedom, where- in was sitting as noble and august a legis- lative body as the world ever saw, that Richard Henry Lee introduced a resolu- tion, on the 7th of June, 1776, declaring, "Tliat the United Colonies are and ought to be free and independent States, and that their political connection with Great Brit- ain is and ought to be dissolved." Upon this resolution tliero sprang up at once an earnest and powerful debate. It was op- posed, principaily, on the ground that it was premature. Some of the best and strongest advocates of colonial rights spoke and voted against the motion, which at last was adopted only by a vote of seven States in its favor to six against. Some of the delegates had not received definite instruc- tions from their constituents, and others had been requested to vote against it. Its further consideration was accordingly post- poned until there was a prospect of greater unanimity. On the eleventh of June, therefore, a committee was appointed to draft a formal Declaration ; this commit- tee consisting of Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston. On the twenty-eighth of June, the com- mittee made their report, and presented the Declaration which they had drawn up. The first or original draft was penned by Mr. Jefferson, chairman of the committee. On the second of July, congress proceeded to the serious consideration of this mo- mentous paper; the discussion, as to the tone and statements characterizing the document, and the propriety of adopting at that time a measure so decisive, lasted for nearly three days, and was extremely earnest. It was so powerfully opposed by some of the members, that Jefferson com- pared the opposition to " the ceaseless ac- tion of gravity, weighing upon us by night and by day." Its supporters, however, were the leading minds, and urged its adoption with masterly eloquence and abil- ity. John Adams, Jefferson asserts, was " the colossus in that debate," and "fought fearlessly for every word of it." The bond which was formed between those two great men on this occasion seems never to have been completely severed, both of them finally expiring, with a sort of poetic jus- tice, on the fiftieth anniversary of the act which constituted their chief glory. Well and truly did the mighty patriot Adams characterize this event as the most memorable epoch in the history of Amer- ica. " I am apt to believe," said he, " that it will be celebrated by succeeding genera- tions, as tlie great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illumina- tions, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forth forever- more ! " The result has equaled the great patriot's wishes. Tradition gives a dra- matic effect to its announcement. It was known, throughout the city, that tlic great BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC. 27 event was to be determined that day, by the last formal acts ; but the closed doors of couoress excluded the populace from witnessing the august assembly or its pro- ceedings, though thousands of anxious citizens had gathered around the building, eager to hear the words of national des- tiny soon to be officially proclaimed. From the hour when congress came together in the forenoon, all business was suspended throughout the city, and the old bellman steadily remained at his post in the steeple, prepared to sound forth to the waiting multitudes the expected glad tidings. He had even stationed a boy at the door of the hall below, to give immediate signal of the turn of events. This bell, manufactured felt such a professional pride, the electri- fied old patriot rung fortli such a joyous peal as was never heard before, nor ceased to hurl it backward and forward, till every voice joined in its notes of gladness and triumph. The roar of cannon, and illu- minations from every house and hill-top, added to these demonstrations of uni- versal rejoicing. And this was the type of that exultation which everywhere manifested itself, as the news spread with lightning rapidity from city to city and from State to State. Every American patriot regarded the declaration by congress as the noble performance of an act which had become inevitable ; and the paper itself as the complete vindica- HALL OF I^DEPK^'DE^"CE, PHTLAIIELPHIA, 1776. in England, bore upon its ample curve the now prophetic inscription, "Proclaim lib- erty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof." Hours passed on, and fear began to take the place of hope in many a heart ; even the venerable and always cheerful bellman was overheard in his despondent soliloquy, " They will never do it! they will never do it!" Finally, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, the door of the mysterious hall swung open, and a voice exclaimed, "Passed! — it has passed ! " The word was caught up by ten thousand glad mouths, and the watch-boy now clapped his hands and shouted, "Ring ! Ring!" Seizing the iron tongue of the bell in which he had long tion of America before the bar of public opinion throughout the world. When it was read by the magistrates and other functionaries, in the cities and towns of the whole nation, it was greeted with shouts, bonfires, and processions. It was read to the troops, drawn up under arms, and to the congregations in churches by ministers from the pulpit. Washington hailed the declaration with joy. It is true, it was but a formal recognition of a state of things which had long existed, but it put an end to all those temporizing hopes of reconciliation wliich had clogged the military action of the country. On the ninth of July, therefore, Washington caused it to be read at six o'clock in tile 2S BIRTH OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. evening, at the liead of each brigade of the army. " The general hojses," said he in his orders, "tliat this important event will serve as a fresh incentive to every officer and soldier, to act with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms ; and that he is now in the service of a State, possessed of sufficient power to re- ward his merit, and advance him to the highest honors of a free countrj-." The troops listened to the reading of this with eager attention, and at its close broke forth in tumultuous applause. The excitable populace of New York were not content with the ringing of bells and the other usual manifestations of public joy. There was a leaden eques- trian statue of George the Third in the Bowling . Green, in front of the fort. Around this kingly effigy the excited mul- titude, surging hither and thither, unit- edly gathered, and pulling it down to the ground, broke it into fragments, which fragments were afterwards conveniently molded into bullets and made to do service against his majesty's troops. Some of the soldiers and officers of the American army having joined in this proceeding, Wash- ington censured it, as having much the appearance of a riot and a want of disci- pline, and the army was ordered to abstain, in the future, from all irregularities of the kind. In Boston, that citadel of radical insub- ordination to "his majesty," the public joy knew no bounds, and even the British prisoners were courteously summoned to witness the sjjirit with which a brave peo- ple, determined to be free, dared to defy the British throne. On the seventeenth of July the British officers on parole re- ceived each a card from the governor, re- questing the honor of said officer's attend- ance at a specified hour on the morrow, in the town hall As rumors were pretty well afloat, however, touching the decided step that had been taken at Philadelphia, the officers were not without a suspicion us to the purport of the meeting, and hesi- tated for a while as to the consistency of giving the sanction of their presence to a proceeding which they could not but re- gard us traitorous. Curiosity, however, got the better of these scruples, and it was resolved, after a brief consultation, that the invitation ought to be accepted. On entering the hall, the king's officers found it occupied by 'rebellious' function- aries, military, civil, and ecclesiastical, and among whom the same good humor and excitement prevailed as among the throng out of doors. The British officials were received with great frankness and cordi- ality, and were allotted such stations as enabled them to witness the whole cerc- mon3'. Exactly as the clock struck one. Colonel Crafts, who occupied the chair, rose, and, silence being obtained, read aloud the declaration, which announced to the world that the tie of allegiance which had so long held Britain and her North American colonies together, was forever separated. This being finished, the gen- tlemen stood up, and each, repeating the words as they were spoken by an officer, swore to uphold, at the sacrifice of life, the rights of his country. Meanwhile, the town clerk read from a balcony the solemn declaration to the collected multitude ; at the close of which, a shout began in the hall and passed like an electric spark to the streets, which now rang with loud huz- zas, the slow and measured boom of can- non, and the rattle of musketry. The batteries on Fort Hill, Dorchester Neck, the castle, Nantasket, and Long Island, each saluted with thirteen guns, the artil- lery in the town fired thirteen rounds, and the infantry scattered into thirteen divis- ions, poured forth thirteen volleys, — all corresponding to the number of states which formed the Union. There was also a municipal banquet, at which speeches were made and toasts drank ; and in the evening a brilliant illumination of the houses. In Virginia, the proclamation of inde- pendence was greeted with that same ardor of enthusiasm which for so many years had characterized the people of that BLRTK OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. 29 ancient commonwealth, in the course of politiL-al freedom. In South Carolina, too, the declaration was read to the assembled multitudes, amid the greatest rejoicings, — public addresses, military and civic proces- sions, bands of music, firing of cannon, and kindred demonstrations of popular favor. In all the colonies, indeed, the declaration was hailed as the passing away of the old w^rld and the birth of the new. But the declaration, though it thus solemnly inaugurated a new nation and made the colonies, for the time, the theater of patriotic jubilee, involved startling per- ils and imposed momentous duties ; for it was a defiant challenge to combat thrown by a mere province in the face of the most colossal power in all Christendom. This important paper commences with stating that, "When ia the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to as- sume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal stations to which the laws of Nature, and of Nature's God, en- title them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should de- clare the causes which impel them to the separation." The causes are then stated, and a long enumeration of the oppressions complained of by America is closed by saying that " a prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people." History may be searched in vain for words so bold and scathing, used by a colony against a powerful sovereign. The fruitless appeals which had been made to the people of Great Britain are also recounted, but " they too," concludes tliis declaration, "have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest uf mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends." Then comes the portentous conclusion — "We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in general congress assembled, appealing to the Su- preme Judge for the rectitude of our inten- tions, do, in the name, and by the author- ity of the good people of these colonies, solemnly pul^lish and declare, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES ; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and tliat all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is, and ought to be, totally dissolved ; and that, as free and independ- ent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and do all other acts and things, which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutu- ally pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." In the whole country, however, between New England and the Potomac, which was now to become the great theater of action, although a vast majority was in favor of independence, there existed an influential number, who not only refused to act with their countrymen, but were ready to give information and aid to the enemy. Most of these tories were wealthy and haughty, and rendered themselves ex- tremely unpopular. Laws passed by the new State authorities had subjected these persons to fines and imprisonments, and their property to confiscation. They en- dured many outrages, and were treated to " tarrings and feathering " innumerable, by the more violent among the angry pop- ulace. To prevent these outrages, con- gress gave the supervision of tories to committees of inspection. Many of these obnoxious families finally left the country, and in course of time the torj' element was eradicated or completely silenced. Scarcely less interesting and important is the character of the reception which this remarkable iocument met on its ar- rival in England. Of the noble band of American patriots wlio had been chosen to deliberate and act for the best good of the m BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC. )ppressed colonies, and who, preceding the final act of the declaration of independ- ence, had sent forth the most magnani- mous appeals to Britain's sense of justice, ' — of these men and their works, there had gone forth one of the grandest eulogies from the elder Pitt (Lord Chatham), the greatest of Britain's statesmen, who, in his place in parliament, dared to say — ' I must declare and avow that in all my reading and study — and it has been my favorite study ; I have read Thucydi- des, and have studied and admired the master states of the world — that, for so- lidity of reasoning, for force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion, under such a complication of circumstances, no nation or body of men can stand in preference to the general congress of Philadelphia." But when, a few years after, it was pro- posed, by the ^British prime minister, to conciliate the exasperated colonies by treat- ing them as a people possessing certain independent riglits and powers, Pitt showed tlie exalted estimation iu which he held the rebellious colonies as part of the British realm, by opposing such a course, in a speech of almost dramatic power and effect, and from which, owing to the exhaustion it produced in his own shattered system, the great peer and ora- tor almost immediately died. In France, the declaration o\ independ- ence; by the American colonies was greeted with secret satisfaction by the court and rulers, and aroused to universal gladness tlie popular heart. Reviewing the scene and its actors, one of the most brilliant and popular orators of that intrepid nation was led to say: "With what grandeur, with what enthusiasm, should I not speak of those generous men who erected this grand edifice by their patience, their wis- dom, and tlieir courage ! Hancock, Frank- lin, the two Adamses, were the greatest actors in this affecting scene ; but they were not the only ones. Posterity shall know them all. Their honored names shall be transmitted to it by a happier pen than mine. Brass and marble shall show them to remotest ages, ^n behold- ing them, shall the friend of freedom feel his heart palpitate with joy — feel his eyes float iu delicious tears. Under tlie bust of one of them has been written, ' He wrested thunder from heaven and the scepter from tyrants.' Of tlie last words of this eulogy shall all of them partake." Still more preg- nant were the words of the great Mira- beau, as, citing the grand principles of the American Declaration, from his place in the National Assembly, " I ask," he said, " if the powers who have formed alliances with tlie States have dared to read that manifesto, or to interrogate their con- sciences after the perusal ? I ask whether there be at this day one government in Europe — the Helvetic and Batavian con- federations and the British isles excepted — wliich, judged after the principles of the Declaration of Congress on the fourth of July, 1776, is not divested of its rights ! " For more than a year, commissioners from congress, at tlie head of wliom was Dr. Franklin, resided at the court of France, urging upon that government to acknowledge the independence of the United States. But the success of the American struggle was regarded, as yet, too doubtful, for that country to embroil herself in a war with Great Britain. But that great event, the capture of the British •nrmy at Saratoga, seemed to increase the probability that the American arms would finally triumph, and decided France to espouse her cause. The aid which France now brought to the Americans was of great importance. It is even doubtful whether the colonies, without her contri- butions of money, navy, and troops, would have been able to resist Britain with final success; at least, the struggle must have been greatly prolonged. To this inter- vention, however, France was inclined, by her own hostility to England, whom she delighted to see humbled, especially by a people struggling for independence. Fi- nally, after the surrender of Cornwallis to General Washington, the French court pressed upon congress the propriety of ap- pointing commissioners for negotiating peace with Great Brita,iD.. In accordance BIRTH OF THE NEW KEPUBLIC. 31 •with this advice, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Jolm Jay, and Henry Laurens, were appointed. The commissioners met Messrs. Fitzherbert and Oswald, on the part of Great Britain, at Paris, and provi- sional articles of peace between the two countries were there signed, November thirtieth, 1782; the definitive treaty being signed on the third of September, 1783. Holland acknowledged the independence of the United States in 1782 ; Sweden, in February, 1783; Denmark, in the same month; Spain, in March ; Russia, in July. And thus, the Republic of the United States of America became an inde- pendent power among the nations of the earth. It was not unknown to the wise and venerable enactors of the Declaration, that their signatures to such an instrument would be regarded in England as an act of treason, rendering them liable to the halter or the block. In the full apprecia- tion of all this, every man of them placed his name upon the immortal parchment. The only signature which indicates a trembling hand, is that of Stephen Hop- kins, but this was owing to a nervous affection ; for, so resolute was ho in con- gress, that, when some of the members suggested a hope of reconciliation, Mr. Hopkins replied, that " the time had come when the strongest arm and the longest sword must decide the contest, and those members who were not prepared for action had better go home." The boldest signa- ture is that of John Hancock, he whom the British had excepted in their offers of pardon, as one "whose offenses are of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration but that of condign punish- ment." The number who signed the Dec- laration was fifty-six ; and the average length of their lives was about sixty-five years. Carpenters'Hall — or Independence Hall — in Philadelphia, where these tre- mendous scenes transpired, (is still one of the places which every American looks, upon with patriotic pride ; for within that temple was born a Nation, in whose des- tiny were wrapped the interests of Liberty and Civilization to the end of time. II. FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY.— 1779. Joliii Paul Jones, Commanding tlie Bon Homme Ricliard, Fights and Captures King George's Power, iul Ship-of-war. tlie Serapis, in Britisli Waters.— Crowds of Spectators Line the Englisli Coast. — The Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships. — Jones is Hailed as "The Washington of the Seas." — World-wide Interest of this Combat. — Commodore Jones's Early Career. — Offers his Services to Congress. — Appointed a Naval Lieutenant. — Joins the Continental Fleet. — The First to Hoist its Ensign. — Style and Motto of the Flag. — Sails from France on a Cruise. — Terror Created by his Movements, — Characteristic Anecdotes. — Two Britisli Frigates in Sight. — Jones Ready for Bloody Work. — The Ships Muzzle to Muzzle. — Superiority of the Serapis. — A Most Deadly Contest. — Both Vessels on Fire. — Jones Attacked by Another Foe. — One of his 'Vessels Treacherous. — Remarkable Scenes. — Britain's Flag Struck to America. — An Act Without Precedent. — Sinking of the Victori- ous Vessel, <••► " The must obaliiiatc and blo-Mly battle in the annsla of navfil warfare."— J. Fk-NIMOHk Coopbb. UCH an exploit as tliat performed by Jolin Paul Jones, in 1779, by which, in plain sight of the English coast, he flung to the breeze the galhint ensign of the United States, and, with Britons as wit- K*<-t~^'^'> "^fr ' '"^^^^^ °^ '^'^ daring, fought, victoriously, a battle which has always I V^~vi. been spoken of as the most obstinate and sanguinary combat tliat I fc|'\>^^ s^S"" occurred between single ships, can never be read of by Ameri- cans with other than the deepest and most enthusiastic interest. The victor}- came, too, at one of the darkest hours in the revolutionary cam- paign, and served to gladden and encourage, for the time being, the de- spondent hearts of honest patriots. The vaunted invincibleness of the British navy became a by-word of contumely, the world over, from the time Jones nailed his flag to the mast, and, under the calm sky and round harvest moon of September, dealt forth a storn"- of death and desolation upon the enemies of his adopted coun- try. The action may well be pronounced one of the most terrible on record, from its unusual duration for a naval bat- tle, from the ferocity which the combatants displayed, and from the proximity of the two vessels, the muzzles of the ships' batteries almost reaching into each other's port-holes, John Paul was born in Scotland, on the sixth day of July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birth- place — Arbigland — and its vicinity, donbtle.'s encouraged that restless spirit of adventure and love of change, as well as that ardent enthusiasm in the objects of his pur- suit, which so strikingly characterized his career through life. At the age of twelve, he was apprenticed to a merchant of Whitehaven, who carried on a considerable trade with HOISTIKG FIRST NAVAL FLAG, FIRST AMEBIC AiS' MAVAL VICTORY. 80 the American colonies. His first voyage was made before he was thirteen years old, beino- to Virginia, where his elder brother was established as a planter. He was after- ward engaged for a short time in the slave trade, which he left in disgust, and made a number of voyages to the West Indies. In 1773, John Paul removed to Virginia, to attend to the affairs of his brother, who had died childless and intestate. He now, for some unknown reason, assumed the ad- ditional surname of Jones, and which ho retained through life. At the commence- ment of the revolutionary conflict, his feel- ings became warmly enlisted in the cause of the colonies, and this spirit fully pre- pared him for the active part he soon un- dertook in their behalf. An offer of his services, which lie made to the colonies, was accepted, and, on the twenty-second of December, 1775, by a resolution of con- gress, he was appointed lieutenant in the American navy. It was Lieutenant Jones who hoisted, with his own hands, the first American naval flag on board the American frigate Alfred, the flag-ship, the natioiial ensigii leinff thus for the first time displayed from a man-of-war. The circumstances attend- ing this interesting occasion are stated to have been as follows : The Alfred was an- chored off the foot of Walnut street, Phila- delphia. On a brilliant morning, early in February, 1776, gay streamers were seen fluttering from every mast-head and spar on the river Delaware. At nine o'clock, a full-manned barge thridded its way among tlie floating ice to the Alfred, bearing the commodore. He was greeted by the thun- ders of artillery and the shouts of a multi- tude. When he reached the deck of the flag-ship. Captain Salstonstall gave a sig- nal, and Lieutenant Jones gallantly pulled the ropes which wafted the new flag mast- head high. It was of yellow silk, bearing the figure of a pine tree, and the signifi- cant device of a rattlesnake in a field of thirteen stripes, with the ominous legend, " DonH tread on ine!" This memorable act, it was Jones's high honor and privilege to perform when in his twenty-ninth year; an honor, too, of which, as events afterward proved, he was fully worthy. On the fourteenth of August, 1779, Jones sailed from the roadstead of Groix, France, in command of a small squadron, consisting of the Bon Homme Richard, forty-two guns, the Alliance, thirty-six guns, the Pallas, thirty-two guns, the Cerf, twenty-eiglit guns, and the Vengeance, twelve guns. Two privateers afterwards joined them, but did not continue with them till the end of the cruise. The efficiency of the expedi- tion was marred by a want of subordination on the part of some of the officers, who do not appear to have been willing to yield prompt obedience to orders. Captain Lan- dais, of the Alliance, habitually disregarded the signals and orders, throughout the cruise, and, towards the close, committed acts of open hostility to his superior. But, notwithstanding the difficulties against which he had to contend, Jones inflicted great damage on the enemy ; he coasted Ireland, England, and Scotland, making many prizes, and carrying terror wherever he appeared. But the action which gave the most dis- tinguishing renown to Jones's brilliant ca- reer, and which so earlj' gave prestige to American prowess on the ocean, is that of which a detailed account is given below : It was about noon, on the twenty-third of September, 1779, a fleet of over forty sail appeared off Flamborough Head, on the coast of Yorkshire, and Jones at once gave up the pursuit of a vessel in whose track he was just then following, with all possible speed, and made signals for a gen- eral chase. The sails in sight were a fleet of English merchantmen, under convoy of the ships-of-war Serapis and Scarborough, and as soon as they saw themselves pur- sued they ran in shore, while their convoys that protected them bore off from the land and prepared for an engagement. The Bon Homme Richard set every stitch of canvas, but did not come into fighting po- sition toward the enemy until about seven o'clock in the evening, at which time, from the darkness having set in somewhat, ob- jects on the water were dimly discerned, 34 FIRST AMEKICAN NAVAL VICTORY. tlicugh not with such difficulty as would have been the case liad not the moon shone forth with great brightness, and the weather proved serene and beautiful. When within pistol-shot, the hail from the Serapis, " What ship is that ? " was answered, " I can't hear you." Captain Pearson says the answer was, " The Prin- cess Royal." A second hail was answered by a thundering broadside from the bat- teries of the Richard, — a signal that in- dicated a hot and bloody encounter at hand, as the sequel soon proved. The American ship, it may here be re- marked, was much inferior to her antag- onist, being, in fact, an old vessel, clumsy, and unmanageable. She carried six eighteen-pounders on the lower gun deck, fourteen twelve-pounders and fourteen niue-pounders on the middle gun deck, two six-pounders on the quarter-gun deck, two six-pounders on the spar deck, one six-pounder in each gangway, and two six-pounders on the forecastle. She was manned hy three hundred and eighty men and boys. The Serapis, on the other hand, was a new ship, built in the best manner, and with a much heavier arma- ment. She mounted twenty eighteen- pounders on her jower gun deck, twen'y nine-pounders on her upper gun deck, six six-pounders on her quarter deck, four six-pounders on the forecastle ; and she had a crew of some three hundred and twenty men. Captain Cottineau, of the Pallas, en- gaged the Scarborough, and took her, after an hour's action, while the Bon Homme Richard engaged the Serapis. In pile earlier part of the action, the superior sailing qualities of the Serapis enabled her to take several advantageous positions, which the seamanship of Paul Jones, hampered by the unmanageable character of his craft, did not enable him to prevent. Thus he attempted to lay his ship athwart the enemy's bows, but the bowsprit of the Serapis sweeping over the Richard's poop, was grappled and lashed, and her stern swung round to the bow of the Bon Homme Richard by the action of the wind ; the vessels lay yard-arm and yard- arm, the muzzles on either side actually touching the enemy. But long before this, many of the eighteen-pound shot of the Serapis had entesed the Richard's hull be- low the water-mark, and she leaked in a, threatening manner. Just before they closed, Commodore Pearson hailed his ad- versary : " Has your ship struck ? " "7 haven't begun to fight yet ! " thundered forth the brave Jones, in reply. A novelty in naval combats .sras now presented to many witnesses, but few ad- mirers, — says Lieutenant Dale, who par- ticipated in the conflict, — the rammers being run into the respective ships to en- able the men to load after the lower ports of the Serapis had been blown away, to r~1^ make room for running out their guns, and in this situation the ships remained until between ten and twelve o'clock, P. M. From the commencement to the termination of the action, there was not a man on board the Richard who was igno- rant of the superiority of the Serapis, both in weight of metal, and in the qualities of the crew. The crew of that ship were picked seamen, and the ship itself had been only a few months off the stocks; whereas the crew of the Richard consisted of part Americans, English and French, and a part of Maltese, Portuguese, and Ma- lays, these latter contributing by their want of naval skill and knowledge of the English language, to depress rather than encourage any reasonable hope of succes.s in a combat under such circumstances. FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY, 35 xMm ■J It'll ■ II* 36 FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY. One of the most disheartening facts in the early part of tlie action, was the silenc- ing of the battery of twelve-pounders, on which Jones Lad placed his principal de- pendence. Brave and dauntless sailor as he was, Jones stuck to his little battery, and stimu- lated bis men with word and example. While one of the nine-pounders vomited double-headed shot against the mainmast of the Serapis, the two others swept her decks with grape and canister. The fire was so hot from the nine-pound battery and the tops, that not a man could live on the deck of the English ship. But all this while, her lower battery of eighteen-pound- ers was making an awful ruin of the Rich- ard. The terror of the scene was also soon heightened beyond the power of language to depict, by both vessels taking fire, which required almost superhuman exertion to subdue, and, in the midst of all, Jones and Lis heroic men were horror stricken to see their consort, the Alliance, commanded by Captain Landais, come up and pour a full broadside into the Richard's stern ! The evidence is regarded as most conclusive, that Captain L.'s conduct on this occasion was not due to any mistake on his part in supposing the Richard to be the Serapis, but to his personal hostility to Jones. With jealousy and treason in his heart, his plan was to kill Jones, and, capturing the Serapis, claim the victory as his. But the black-hearted Frenchman failed in his plot. A quantity of cartridges on board the Ser- apis was set fire to by a grenade from Jones's ship, and blew up, killing or wound- ing all the officers and men abaft the main- mast. But long after this the fight went on with fury. At last, the mainmast of the Serapis be- gan to totter to its fall — her fire slackened, and, about half-past ten o'clock, the British flag was struck, and Commodore Pearson surrendered his sword to his really weaker foe. In going through the formalities of this scene, Pearson displayed much irrita- bility, and, addressing Jones as one who fought under no recognized flag, said : " It is painful to deliver up my sword to a man who has fought with a halter around his neck." "Sir," replied Jones, good humoredly, as he handed back the weapon, "you have fought like a hero, and I make no doubt but your sovereign will reward you in the most ample manner." True enough, the gallant Pearson soon received from King George the dignity of knighthood as an acknowledgment of his bravery in this unparalleled battle, — hear- ing of which honor, Jones is said to have drjdy remarked : "AVell, he deserved it; and should I have the good fortune to meet with him again, I will make a lord of him!" Another episode occurred in connection W'ith a medical officer, — the surgeon of the Richard, — who ran up from the cock-jjit, in great fright and trepidation, and hur- riedly accosting the captain, said : "Are you not going to strike the colors ? Is not the ship fast sinking? " " What ! doctor," re- plied Jones, " would you have me strike to a drop of water ? Here, help me get this gun over ! " The doctor, as though answer- ing a sudden professional call, was soon retracing his steps to the cock-pit. So terribly was the Richard cut to pieces (being an old ship), that it was found im- possible, after the fight, to get her into port, and, the wounded being removed, she soon after sank. Jones took his prizes to Holland, and it is no exaggeration to say that the whole world stood astonished at his bravery and success. A most interesting account of this cele- brated battle between the Serapis and Richard was given, soon after its occur- rence, by Commodore Jones himself, a portion of which, describing in his own dramatic style, the principal scenes during the engagement, is given below : On the morning of that day, September twenty-third, the brig from Holland not be- ing in sight, we chased a brigantine that ap- peared laying to, to windward. About noon, we saw and chased a large ship that appeared coming round Flamborough Head trom the northward, and at the same time FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY. I manned and armed one of the pilot boats to send in pursuit of the brigautine, which now appeared to be the vessel that I had forced ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of forty-ono sail appeared off Flamborough Head, bearing N. N. E. This induced me to abandon the single ship which had then anchored in Burlington Bay ; I also called back the pilot boat, and hoisted a signal for a general chase. When the fleet dis- covered us bearing down, all the merchant ships crowded sail toward the shore. The two ships-of-war that protected the fleet at the same time steered from the land, and made the disposition for battle. In ap- proaching tlie onenij-, I crowded every pos- sible sail, and made the signal for the line of battle, to which the Alliance paid no at- tention. Earnest as I was for the action, I could not reach the commodore's ship until seven in the evening, being then within pistol-shot, when lie hailed the Bon Homme Richard. We answered him by firing a whole broadside. The battle being thus begun, was con- tinued with unremitting fury. Every method was practiced on both sides to gain an advantage and rake each other ; and I must confess that the enemy's ship, being much more manageable than the Bon Homme Richard, gained thereby several times an advantageous situation, in spite of my best endeavors to prevent it. As I had to deal with an enemy of greatly su- perior force, I was under the necessity of closing with him, to prevent the advantage wliicli he had over me in. point of ;na- neuver. It was my intention to l.xy the Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's !)inv ; but as that operation required great dexterity in the management of both sails and helm, and some of our braces being shot away, it did not exactly succeed to my wish. The enemy's bowsprit, however, came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop, by the niizzenmast, and I made both ships fast together in that situation, which by the action of the wind on the enemy's sails, forced her stern close to the Bon Homme Richard's bow, so that the ships lay square alongside of each other, the yards being all entangled, and the canuon of each ship touching tlio op[)onent's. I directed the ilro of one of the three cannon against the mainmast, with dou- ble-headed shot, while the other two were exceedinglj'- well served with grape and canister shot, to silence the enem}''s mus- ketry and clear her decks, which was at last effected. The enemy were, as I have since understood, on the instant of calling for quarter, when the cowardice or treach- ery of three of my under-officers induced them to call to the enemy. The English commodore asked me if I demanded quar- ter, and I, having answered him in the most determined negative, they renewed the battle with double fury. They were unable to stand the deck; but the fire of their cannon, especially the lower batter}', which was entirely formed of ten-pound- ers, was incessant; both ships were set on fire in various places, and the scene was dreadful beyond the reach of language. To account for the timidity of my three undcr-ofGcers, I mean the gunner, the car- penter, and the master-at-arms, I must observe, that the two first were slightly wounded, and, as the ship had received various shots under the water, and one of the pumps being shot away, the carpenter expressed his fears that she would sink, and the other two concluded that she was sinking, which occasioned the gunner to run aft on the poop, without my knowl- edge, to strike the colors. Fortunately for me, a cannon-ball had done that before, by carrying away the ensign-staff; he was therefore reduced to the necessity of sink- ing, as he supposed, or of calling for quar- ter, and he preferred the latter. All this time the Bon Homme Richard had sustained the action alone, and the enemy, though much superior in force, would have been very glad to have got clear, as appears by their own acknowledg- ments, and by their having let go an an- chor the instant that I laid them on board, by which means they would have escaped, had I not made them fast to the Bon Homme Richard. At last, at half-past nine o'clock, the Al- 38 FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY, liance appeared, and I now thought the battle at an end ; but, to my utter aston- ishment, he discharged a broadside full into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard. We called to him for God's sake to forbear firing into the Bon Homme Eichard; yet they passed along the off side of the ship, aud continued firing. There was no pos- sibility of his mistaking the enemy's ship for the Bon Homme Richard, there being the most essential difference in their ap- pearance and construction. Besides, it was then full moonlight. The Bon Homme Richard received various shots under wa- ter from the Alliance ; the leak gained on the pumps, and the fire increased much on board both ships. Some officers persuaded me to strike, of whose courage and good sense I entertain a high opinion. My treacherous master-at-arms let loose all my prisoners without my knowledge, and my prospects became gloomy indeed. I wouhl not, however, give up the point. The ene- my's mainmast began to shake, their firing decreased fast, ours rather increased, and the British colors were struck at half an hour past ten o'clock. This prize proved to be the British ship- of-war, the Serapis, a new ship of forty- four guns, built on the most approved con- struction, with two complete batteries, one of them of eighteen-pounders, and com- manded by the brave Commodore Richard Pearson. THE WONDEEFUL D.VHK DAY. 39 ■^KK- *•*• Ijik .\ 1 I in ' »'lli» ■ iJMi* '^* III. THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— 1780. Tlie Nortliern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmospliere for Fifteen Hours. — Tlie Day of Judgment Supposed to have Come. — Cessation of Laljor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to. — The Herds Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to tlieir Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday.— Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenomenon. — One of Nature's Marvels. Redness of the Sun and Moon.— Approach of a Thick Vapor.— Loud Peals of Tliunder.— Sudden and Strange Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the World Looked For. — Dismay of the Brute Crea- tion. —An Intensely Deep Gloom. — Difficulty in Attending to Business. — Lights Burning in the Houses. — Vast Extent of the Occurrence. — Condition of the Barometer. — Change in the Color of OI>jects.— Quick Motion of the Clouds.— Birds Suffocate and Die.— The Sun's Disc Seen in Some Places.— Oily Deposit on the Waters.— Impenetrable Darkness at Night.— Incidents and Anecdotes.— Ignorant Whims and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery. "The Dark Day in northern America was one oftliose wonderful phenomena of nature wliich will ulwuya be reud of with intereot. but which philosophy is at a loss to explain."— IIbrsciiel. DIFFICULTY OF TKAVELIKG. LMOST, if not altogether alone, as the most mysterious and as j-et unexplaine I phenome- non of its kind, in nature's diversified range of events, during the last century, stands the Dark Day of Mai/ Nineteenth, 1780, — a most unaccountable darkening of the whole visible heavens and atmosphere in New England, — which brought intense alarm and distress to multitudes of minds, as well as dismay to the brute creation, the fowls fleeing, bewildered, to their roosts, and the birds to their nests, and the cattle returning to their stalls. Indeed, thousands of the good people of that day be- came fully convinced that the end of all things terrestrial had come ; many gave up, for the time, their secular pursuits, and betook them- selves to religious devotions; while many others regarded the darkness as not only a token of God's indignation against the various iniquitjes and abominations of the age but also as an omen of some future destruction that might overwhelm the land — as in the case of the countries men- tioned in bil>lical historj', — unless speedy repentance and THE WONDERFUL DAI;K DAY. 41 reformation took place. The ir,%orant in- dulged in vague and wild conjectures as to the cause of the phenomenon ; and those profounder minds, even, that could " gauge the heavens and tell the stars," were about equally at loss for anj' rational explanation of the event. It is related that the Connecticut legislature was in session at this time, and that, so great was the darkness, the members became terri- fied, and thought that the day of judg- ment had come; a motion was conse- quently made to adjourn. At this, Mr. Davenport arose and said: '"Mr. Speaker, — It is either the day of judgment, cr it is not. If it is not, there is no need of adjourning. If it is, I desire to be f.iund doing my dutv. I move that candles be brought, and that we proceed to business."' The time of the commencement of this extraordinary darkness was between the liours of ten and eleven in the forenoon of Friday, of the date already named; and it continued until the middle of the follow- ing night, but with different appearances at different places. As to the manner of its approach, it seemed to appear first of all in the south-west. The wind came from that quarter, and the darkness ap- peared to come on with the clouds that came in that direction. The degree to which the darkness arose varied in differ- ent localities. In most parts, it became so dense, that people were unable to read common print distinctly, or accurately de- termine the time of day by their clocks or watches, or dine, or manage their domes- tic aifairs conveniently, without tlie light of candies. In some places, the degree of darkness was just about equal to prevent- ing persons seeing to read ordinary print in the open air, for several hours together. The extent of this darkness was also very remarkable. It was observed at the most easterly regions of New England ; west- ward, to the furthest parts of Connecticut, and at Albany; to the southward, it was observed all along the sea coasts ; and to the north, as far as the American settle- ments extended. It probably far exceeded these boundaries, but the exact limits were never positively known. With regard to its duration, it continued in the neiglibor- liood of Uoston fur at least fourteen or fif- teen liours ; but it was doubtless lunger or shorter in some other places. The appear- ance and effects were such as tended to make the prospect extremely dull, gloomy, and unnatural. Candles were lighted up in the houses; the birds, in the midst of their blithesome forenoon enjoyments, stopped suddenly, and, singing their even- ing songs, disappeared, and became si- lent; the fowls retired to their roosts; the cocks were crowing in their accustomed manner at tlie break of day; objects could not be distinguished at a comparatively slight distance; and cver3'thing bore the aspect and gloom of night, — to say noth- ing of the effect upon the minds of the people, which, indeed, was quite inde- scribable. The abo\'e general facts concerning this strange phenomenon were ascertained, after much painstaking inquiry, soon after its occurrence, by Prof. Williams, of Harvard College, who also collected to- gether some of the more jiarticular ob- servations made in different parts of the country, relative to the remarkable event. From these data it appears that, with re- gard to the state of the atmosphere pre- ceding tills uncommon darkness, it was noticed in many sections, for several days before, that the air seemed to be of a smoky and vaporous character. The sun and the moon exhibited an unusual led- ness in their color, and divested of their usual brightness and lucid aspect; and this obscuration increased as they ap- proached nearer to the horizon. This was ascertained to have been the case in almost all parts of the New England states, for four or five days preceding the nineteenth of ]\Iay. The winds had been variable, but chiefly from the south-west and north-east. The thermometer indi- cated from forty to fifty-five degrees. The barometer showed a somewhat higher range than usual. The weather had been fair and cool for the season. As to the state of the atmosphere when 42 THE WONDERFUL DAEK DAY. the darkness came on, it was observable that the weight or gravity of it was grad- ually decreasing, the greater part of the day. According to the observations made at Cambridge, Mass , the mercury in the barometer was found, at twelve o'clock, to stand at twenty-nine inches, seventy ; in half an hour after, the mercury had fallen the one-hundredth part of an inch ; at one o'clock, it was twenty-nine inches, sixt)-- seven ; at three o'clock, it was at twenty- nine inches, sixtj'-five ; at eight minutes past eight, it was at twenty-nine inclies, sixty-four. A similar course of barometri- cal observations made, at the same time, in another part of the state, showed as fol- lows : at six o'clock in the morning, the mercury in the barometer was found to be at twenty-nine inches, eighty-two ; as soon as the darkness began to appear uncom- mon, that is, at ten minutes past ten, the mercury was found at twenty-nine inches, sixty-eight ; at quarter before eleven — the time of the greatest degree of darkness in that part of the country — the mercury was at twenty-nine inches, sixty-seven, the darkness continuing in the same degree for an hour and a half ; at fifteen minutes past twelve, the mercury had fallen to twenty-nine inches, sixty-live, and, in a few minutes after this, the darkness began to abate ; the mercury remained in this state during the whole evening, without any sensible alteration. At half-past eight, it seemed to have fallen a little, but so small was the alteration, that it was at- tended with some uncertainty, nor did it appear to stand any lower three hours later. From these observations, it is certain that, on the day when the darkness took place, the weight or gravity of the atmos- phere was gradually decreasing through the whole day. Both of the barometers in use were instruments of superior work- manship, and consequently to be depended on as to the accuracy of their indications. The color of objects that day, is another point of interest. It is mentioned, in the record of observations made with reference to this feature of the phenomenon, that the compfcxion of the clouds was com- pounded of a faint red, yellow and brown, — that, during the darkness, objects which commonly appear green, were of tlie deep- est green, verging to blue, — and that those which appear white, were highly tinged with yellow. This was the character of the observations, as given by almost every one ^vho made any record of the day's ap- pearance. But Prof. Williams states that, to him, almost every object appeared tinged with j-ellow, rather tlian with any other color; and this, whether the thing wa? near, or remote from the ej'e. Another element of peculiarity, in this remarkable scene, was the nature and ap- pearance of the vapors that were then in the atmosphere. Early in the morning, the weather was cloudy ; the sun was but just visible through the clouds, and ap- peared of a deep red, as it had for several days before. In most places thunder was heard a number of times in the morning. The clouds soon began to rise from the south-west, with a gentle breeze, and there were several small showers before eight o'clock ; in some places there were showers at other hours, throughout the day. The water that fell was found to have an un- usual character, being thick, dark, and sooty. One observer, in the eastern part of Massachusetts, states, in this connec- tion, that the strange appearance and smell of the rain-water which people had saved in tubs, was the subject of universal and wondering remark. On examining the water, there was found .a light scum upon it, which, on being rubbed between the thumb and finger, seemed to resemble the black ashes of burnt leaves ; the water also gave the same strong, sooty smell, which characterized the air. A similar appearance, in this respect, manifested itself in other localities; it was especially exliibited on the Merrimac river, large quantities of black scum being seen float- ing upon tlie surface of that stream, dur- ing the day. In the niglit, the wind veered round to the north-east, and drove this substance towards the south shore ; when the tide fell, the matter lay for THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. 43 many miles rJong the shore, the width of tiie deposit being some four or five inches. An examination of a considerable quantity of this substance, in several places, failed to show anything of a sulphurous nature, either in its taste, color, or smell. Prof. Williams states that, being apprehensive as to whether there was not some uncom- mon ingredient in the air that day, he put out several sheets of clean paper in the air and rain. When they had been out four or five hours, he dried them by the fire. They were much sullied, and became dark in their color, and felt as if they had been rubbed with oil or grease ; but, upon burn- ing them, there could not be detected any sulphurous or nitrous particles. The motion and situation of tlie cur- rents or bodies of vapor in the atmosjahere likewise exhibited some striking peculiar- ities. In most places, it was very evident that the vapors were descending from the higher parts of the atmosphere towards the surface of the earth. A gentleman who made some special observations bear- ing upon this point, mentions a very curi- ous circumstance, as to their ascent and situation, namely, that at about nine o'clock in the morning, after a shower, the vapors rose from the springs in the low lands, in great abundance. Notice was taken of one large column that as- cended, with great rapidity, to a consid- erable height above the highest hills, and soon spread into a largo cloud, then moved off a little to the westward. A second cloud was formed in the same manner, from the same springs, but did not ascend eo high as the first; and a third was formed from the same places, in less than a quarter of an hour after the second. About three-quarters of an hour after nine o'clock, these clouds exhibited a very striking appearance. The upper cloud wore a peculiar reddish hue ; the second showed in some places or parts a green, in others a blue, and in others an indigo color; while the surface of the third cloud was almost white. Of a somewhat singular nature, also, is the fact, as related by another, that, while tlie darkness continued, the clouds were in quick motion, interrupted, skirted one over another, so as to form — at least to the eye of the beholder — a considerable number of strata, the lower stratum being of an uni- form height as far as visible; but this height was conceived to be very slight, from the small extent of the horizon that could be seen, and from this circumstance observed in the evening. A liglited torch, held by a person passing along the street, occa- sioned a reflection of a faint red or copper- tinged light — similar to a faint aurora borealis, • — the apparent height at which the reflection was made, being some twenty to thirty feet. And it was generally re- marked, that the hills might be seen at a distance in some directions, while the in- termediate spaces were greatly obscured or darkened. It would thus appear, from the state- ments now cited, as if the vapors, in some places, were ascending ; in most, descend- ing; and, in all, very near to the surface of the earth. To this it may be added, that, during the darkness, objects seem- ingly cast a shade in every direction, and, in many instances, there were various appearances or corruscations in the atmos- phere, not unlike the aurora borealis, — though it is not stated that any uncom- mon exhibitions of tl^e electric fire were witnessed during the day. In some ac- counts, however, it is mentioned that a number of small birds were found suffo- cated by the vapor ; some were found dead, and some flew affrighted, or stupefied, into the houses. In New Haven, Conn., there was a shower of rain, with some lightning and thunder, about daybreak in the morning, the rain continuing, with intervals, until after sunrise. The morning was cloudy and darkish ; and the sun, rising towards the zenith, gave no increase of light, as usual, but, on the contrary, the darkness continued to increase until between eleven and twelve o'clock, at which time there was the greatest obscurity in that place. What little motion of the air there was just at this period, was nearly from the r 44 THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. south ; though the atmosphere was as calm as the blandest summer morning. There was sometliing more of a luminous appear- ance in the horizon, than in the hemi- sphere in general; also, a most marked liveliness of tint to the grass and other green vegetation ; and a very noticeable yellowness in the atmosphere, which made clean silver nearly resemble the color of brass. At about twelve o'clock, noon, the singular obscuration ceased; the greatest darkness, at any particular time, was at least as dense as what is commonly called 'candloligliting,' in the evening. In the town of Hartford, and the neighboring villages, the phenomenon was observed with all its distinctive peculiarities ; and, by some persons, the disc of the sun was seen, at the time of the greatest deficiency of light. such buildings. At twelve, the darkness was greatest, and a little rain fell; in the street, the aspect was liUe that at the be- ginning of evening, a? lights were seen burning in all the houses. The clouds were thinnest at the north ; at the north- east, the clouds were very thick, and so low that hills could not be seen at the dis- tance of half a mile ; south-westerlj', hills might be clearly seen at the distance of twenty miles, though the intermediate space was fo sliaded tliat it was impo.-si- blo to distinguish woodland from pasture. At half-pa t twelve, the cloud:, having been hitherto detached, began to concen- trate at such an height, tliat all the hills became visible, and the country around exhibited a mo t beautiful tinted verdure ; at one, the clouds became uniformly spread, and the darkness was not greater CHANGE OF SCENE AFTEK THE DARK DAY. In ]\Iiddlosex county, Mass , the peals of thunder were loud and frequent at six o'clock in the morning, attended with heavy rain ; at seven o'clock, the rain and thunder had ceased, but the sky contin- ued cloudy. Between nine and ten o'clock, the clouds were observed to thicken, and to receive continual accessions from the low lands. Before ten, the darkness had sensibly increased, till it became difficult to read an almanac in a room having two windows ; at eleven o'clock, candles were lighted, and at half-past eleven the dark- ness was so great in the meeting-house, where a court was then sitting, that it was difficult to distinguish countenances at the smallest distance, notwithstanding the large number of windows usual in than is usual on a cloudy day. The same weather continued through the whole afternoon, except that the sun was seen for a few minutes, in some places, about three o'clock. At eight in the evening, the darkness was so impenetrably thick, as to render traveling positively imprac- ticable ; and, although the moon rose nearly full about nine o'clock, yet it did not give light enough to enable a person to distinguish between the heavens and the earth. In the account of this phenomenon given by Dr. Tenney, of New Hampshire, an in- telligent observer and writer, are some interesting details, gathered by him while on a journey to Pennsylvania,, from the ea^t. He repeats and confirms the state- THE WONDERFUL DARK" DAY. 45 raent made by others, that, ijreviously to tlie coiumeucemeut of tiie darkness, tlie sky was overcast with the common kind of clouds from which there was, in some phices, a moderate fall of rain. Between these and thj eartli, there intervened an- other stratum, apparently of great thick- ness ; a? this stratum advanced, the dark- ness commenced, and increased with its progress till it came to its height, which did not take place till the hemisphere was a second time overspread — the uncom- mon thickness of this second stratum lin- ing probably occasioned by two strong cur- rents of wind from the southward and westward, condensing the vapors and drawing them to the north-east. The remit of Dr. Tenney's journey, — during which he made the best use of his opportunities for information, — was, that the darkness appeared to be most gross in Essex county, ^Massachusetts, the lower part of the state of New Hampshire, and in portions of what was then the province of Maine. In Rhode Island and Connect- icut it was not so great, and still less in New York; in New Jersey, tiio second stratum of clouds was observed, but it Avas not of any great thickness, nor was the darkness very uncommon ; in the lower parts of Pennsylvania, no extraordinary scene was noticed. Through the whole extent of country referred to, the lower cloud-stratum had an uncommon brassy hue, while the earth and trees were adorned with so enchant- ing a verdure as could not escapj notice, even amidst the unu.-ual atmosplicric gloom that accompanied it. The dark- ness of the following evening was proba- bly as deep and dense as ever had been ob- served since the Almighty fiat gave birth to light ; it wanted only palpability to ren- der it as extraordinary as that wliicli over- spread the land of Egypt, in the days of Moses. If every luminous body in the universe had been shrouded in impenetra- ble shades, or struck out of existence, it was tliought the darkness could not have been more complete. A sheet of white paper, held within a few inches of the eyes, was equally invisible with the black- est velvet. And, considering the small quantity of light that was transmitted by the clouds, during the day, it is not surprising that, at night, a sufficient quan- tity' of rays should not be able to penetrate tlie same strata, brouglvi back by tha shift- ing of the winds, to afford the most ob- scure prospect even of the best reflecting bodies. The denseness of tliis evening darkness was a fact universally observed and recorded. In view of all the information contained in the various accounts of tliis daj', it ap- pears very certain that the atmosphere was charged with an unprecedented quan- tity of vapor, — from what primary cause has never been satisfactorily determined; and as the weather had been clear, the air heavy, and the winds small and variable for many days, the vapors, instead of dis- persing, must have been constantly rising and collecting in the air, until the atmos- phere became highly charged with them. A large quantity of the vapors, thus collected in the atmosphere, on the day in question, was floating near the surface of the earth. Wheresoever the specific grav- ity of any vapor is less than the specific gravity of the air, such a vapor will, by the law of fluids, a-^cend in the air; where the specific gravity of a vapor, in the at- mosphere, is greater than tliat of the air, such a vapor will descend ; and where the specific gravity of the vapor and air are the same, the vapor will then be at rest, — ■ floating or swimming in the atmosphere, without ascending or descending. From the barometrical observations, it appears that the weight or gravity of the atmos- phere was gradually growing less, from the morning of the nineteenth of Jlay, until the evening; and hence the vapors, in most places, were descending from the higher parts of the atmosphere, towards the surface of the earth. According to one of tlie observations cited, the vapors wore noticed to ascend, until they rose to a height where the air was of the same specific gravit}' — a height not much above the adjacent hills, — and here they in- 46 THE WONDEEFUL DARK DAY. stantly spread, and floated in the atmos- pliere. From these data, the conclusion is drawn, that the place where the vapors were balanced must have been very near the surface of the earth. Reasoning from the premises thus set forth, Prof. Williams was of the opinion that such a large quantity of vapor, float- ing in the atmosphere, near the earth's surface, might be sufficient to produce all the phenomena that made the nineteenth of May, 1780, so memorable. Thus, the direction in whicli the darkness came on would be determined by the direction of the wind, and this was known to be from the south-west; the degree of the dark- ness would dejjend on the density, color, and situation of the clouds and vapor, and the manner in which they would transmit, reflect, refract, or absorb the i-ays of light; the extent of the darkness would be as great as the extent of the vapor ; and the duration of it would continue until the gravity of the air became so altered that the vapors would change their situation, by an ascent or descent; — all of which particulars, it is claimed, agree with the observations that have been mentioned. Nor does the effect of the vapors, in dark- ening terrestrial objects, when they lay near the surface of the earth, appear to have been greater than it was in darken- ing the sun and moon, when their situa- tion was higher in the atmosphere. It being thus evident that the atmos- phere was, from some peculiar cause (per- haps great fires in distant woods) charged, in a high degree, with vapors, and that these vapors were of different densities and occupied different heights, — the de- duction is, that by this means the rays of light falling on them must have suffered a variety of refractions and reflections, and thereby become weakened, absorbed, or so reflected, as not to fall upon objects on the earth in the usual manner ; and as the different vapors were adapted by their nature, situation, or density, to absorb or transmit the different kind of rays, so the color i of objects would appear to be af- fected by the mixture or prevalency of those rays which were transmitted through so uncommon a medium. This was the explanation suggested by Prof. Williams, though not to the exclusion of other the- ories. But there were not wanting those — and a large number they were too — who gave play, in their minds, to the most strange opinions concerning the cause of so mar- velous an appearance. It was imagined by some persons, that an eclipse of the sun, produced of course by an interposition of the moon, was the cause of the darkness — others attributed it to a transit of Venus or Mercury upon the disc of the sun — others imputed it to a blazing star, which they thought came between the earth and the sun. So whimsical, indeed, were some of the opinions which possessed men's minds at this time, that even so bare a vagary as that a great mountain obstructed the rays of the sun's light during that day, obtained advocates ! Whether they thought that a new mountain was created and placed between the earth and the sun, or that a mountain from this globe had taken flight and perched upon that great luminary, does not appear. That this darkness was not caused by an eclipse, is manifest by the various posi- tions of the planetary bodies at that time, for the moon was more than one hundred and fifty degrees from the sun all that day, and, according to the accurate calcu- lations made by the most celebrated as- tronomers, there could not, in the order of nature, be any transit of the planet Venus or Mercury upon the disc of the sun that jear ; nor could it be a blazing star — much less a mountain, — that darkened the at- mosphere, for this would still leave unex- plained the deep darkness of the following night. Nor would such excessive noc- turnal darkness follow an eclipse of the sun ; and as to the moon, she was at that time more than forty hours' motion past her opposition. One of the theories, looking to a solution of the mysterious occurrence, which found defenders, was as follows : The heat of the sun causes an ascent of numerous particles THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. 47 whicli consist of different qualities, such as aqueous, sulphurous, bituminous, salinous, etc. ; hence the waters of the seas, rivers, and ponds; the fumes of burning volca- noes, caused by subterraneous veins of liquid fire; all the other kinds of smoke — fafc, combustibles, oily matter from various kinds of earth, the juice of trees, plants and herbs ; salinous and nitrous particles from salt, snowwater, and kindred sources; — these are exhaled into the regions of the air, where their positions are subject to various mutations or changes by reason of the motion and compression of the air, causing them to be sometimes rarefied and sometimes condensed. It was (according to this theory,) a vast collection of such particles that caused the day of darkness ; that is, the particles, after being exhaled, were driven together by certain winds from opposite points of the compass, and condensed to such a degree by the weight of the earth's atmosphere, that they ob- structed the appearance of the rays of the sun by day, and those of the moon by night. Having thus presented the facts and circumstances pertaining to this notable day in the history of the New England or northern states, it may not be amiss to add, that a similar day of mysterious dark- ness occurred on October 21, 1716 ; the day was so dark, that people were forced to light candles to dine by, — a darkness which could not proceed from any eclipse, a solar eclipse having taken place on the fourth of that month. There was also a remarkable darkness at Detroit and vicin- ity, October 19, 1762, being almost total for the greater part of the day. It was dark at day-break, and this continued until nine o'clock, when it cleared up a little, and, for the space of about a quarter of an hour, the body of the sun was visible, it appear- ing as red as blood, and more than three times as large as usual. The air, all this time, was of a dingy yellowish color. At half-past one o'clock, it was so dark as to necessitate the lighting of candles, in order to attend to domestic duties. At about three in the afternoon, the darkness became more dense, increasing in intensity until half-past three, when the wind breezed up from the southwest and brought on a slight fall of rain, accompanied with a profuse quantity of fine black particles, in appearance much like sulphur, both in smell and quality. A sheet of clean paper, held out in this rain, was rendered quite black wherever the drops fell upon it ; but, when held near the fire, it turned to a yel- low color, and, when burned, it fizzed on the paper, like wet powder. So black did these powdery particles turn everything upon which they fell, that even the river was covered with a black froth, which, when skimmed off the surface, resembled the lather of soap, with this difference, that it was more greasy, and its color as black as ink. At seven, in the evening, the air was more clear. This phenomenon was observed throughout a vast region of coun- try ; and, though various conjectures were indulged in, as to the cause of so extraor- dinary an occurrence, the same degree of mystery attaches to it as to that of 1780, — confounding the wisdom even of the most learned philosophers and men of science. It may easily be imagined, that, as the deep and mysterious darkness which cov- ered the land on the memorable nineteenth of May filled all hearts with wonder — and multitudes with fear, — so, the return, at last, of that brightness and beauty charac- teristic of the month and of the season, brought gladness again to the faces of the young, and composure to the hearts of the aged ; for never before did nature appear clothed in so charming an attire of sun- shine, sky and verdure. IV. TEEASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— 1780. Darkest Page in American Revolutionarj- History. — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of Amer- ica, Over to the British. — Movements of tlie Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Frustration of the Crime. — Major Andre, the British Spy, is Captured, and Swings from a Gibbet — Escape of Arnold to the Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England, — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by General Washington. — Infamous Personal Transactions — Reprimanded by his Chief — Determines on Revenge. — Correspondence with the Foe — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Com- mand of West Point — Midnight Conference with Andre — Andre Seized wliile Returning — Astound- ing Evidence Against Him. — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters — Arnold Apprised of the Event. — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife, — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — He Reaches a British Man-of-War. — Washington's Exclamation at the News — His Call on Mr? Ar» nold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented Death. "Providence, which has so often Hnd eo rcmarltDbly interposed in our favor, never manifested itself more conspicuously than in the timely discovery ot Arnold's horrid intentioa to surrender the post and garrison of West Point to the enemy." — Wasuiaotom. PRICE OF AUNO-D'S TRKASOS. I" AEK and tragical, indeed, is that page in the history of tlie American revol"tionary war, which records Benedict Arnold's atrocious scheme of treason against his native land, in its struggle against British oppression. Equally strange and startling is the storj' which narrates the dis- covery and frustration of so perfidious a plot. Around the memory of the unfortunate Andre, pity still wreathes her romantic chaplet ; while the name of Arnold will, to the end of time, transfix every patriotic mind, as that of the blackest among modern criminals. The treacher- ous deed was committed, too, in a year of deep depression on the part of the Americans. Of Arnold, personally and professionally, it may be remarked, that he was born in Norwich, Connecticut, in 1740, and began his business career at an early age, as a horse- dealer, and not over-scrupulous. He was also for a time a druggist and bookseller in New Haven. At the beginning of the war of the Revolution he placed himself at the head of a volunteer company, and soon distinguished himself ; was associated also with General Montgomery in the expedition against Quebec. In this latter most disastrous affair, undertaken in severe weather, his illustrious colleague lost his life, and Arnold, who was severely wounded in the leg, displayed the highest abilities as a commander and the greatest gallantry as a soldier, eliciting Washington's warmest esteem and ad- miration. But, licentious and rapacious as he was brave and intelligent, he plundered Montreal in his retreat, and by his misconduct exa.sperated the minds of the Canadians, who previously were not hostile to the Eevolution. After exhibiting great courage and skill on Lake Champlain, at Fort Schuyler, and the battle of Stillwater, his leg was shattered by a ball on the seventh of October, 1777, in a daring assault on TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 40 the English lines, which he penetrated, and but for his wound would have carried. Being thus unfitted for active service, he was appointed commander of the garrison at Philadelphia, but his dissipation, extor- tion, and peculation, at last subjected him to a trial by court martial, and to a repri- mand from Washington, at the beginning of 1779. This sentence was approved by Congress, and carried into execution by General Washington. Embarrassed in his circumstances, disappointed in his e.xpec- tations, and exasperated by disgrace, he formed the design of retrieving his misfor- tunes and satisfying his revenge, by be- traying his country. It was in this wise : While the British army was in Phila- delphia, in the spring of 1778, a grand parting entertainment was given by the royalists to Sir William Howe, the British commander-in-chief. Major Andre, made Adjutant-General of the army by Howe's successor, was one of the chief managers of the affair. IMiss Shippen, a Philadel- phia belle (and who subsequently became Mrs. Arnold), figured conspicuously among the actors of the entertainment, and she and Andre kept up a correspondence after- ward. Tiirough this channel Arnold saw, after his marriage with Miss Shippen, an opportunity for communicating with Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander at New York. In other words, he deter- mined to betray his country, — being, in this respect, an almost solitary instance. Dr. Benjamin Church, of Massachusetts, surgeon-general, being the other principal offender. Under fictitious names, and in the dis- guise of mercantile business, Arnold was even now in treacherous correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major Andre. To him the British general com- mitted the maturing of Arnold's treason, and, to facilitate measures for its execu- tion, the sloop of war Vulture moved up the North river, and took a station con- venient for the purpose, but not so near as to excite suspicion. An intervievr was agreed on, and in the night of September twenty-first, 1780, he was taken in a boat, which was dispatched for the purpose, and carried to the beach, without the posts of both armies, under a pass for John Ander- son. He met General Arnold at the house of a Mr. Smith. Yielding with reluctance to the urgent representations of Arnold, Andre laid aside his regimentals, which he had hitherto worn under a surtout, putting on a suit of ordinary clothes instead ; and now, receiv- ing a pass from the American general, authorizing him, under the feigned name of John Anderson, to "proceed on the public service to the White Plains, or lower if he thought proper," he set out on liis return in the evening of the twenty- second, accompanied by Joshua Smith, and passed the night at Crompond. The next morning he crossed the Hudson to King's Perry on the east side. A little bej'ond the Croton, Smith deeming him safe, bade him adieu. Alone, and without having excited the least suspicion, Andre passed the American guards, and was silently congratulating himself that he had passed all danger, when, coming to a place whore a small stream crossed the road and ran into a woody dell, a man stepped out from the trees, leveled a musket, and brought him to a stand, while two other men, sim- ilarly armed, showed themselves prepared to second their comrades. The man who at first stepped out wore a refugee uniform. At sight of it, Andre's heart leapt, and he felt himself secure. Losing all caution, he exclaimed eagerly : "Gentlemen, where do you belong? I hope to our party ! " " What party?" was th«ir immediate inquiry in response ; the trio consisting of scouting militiamen, named Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart. "The party below," — meaning New York, was the answer. " We do," was the shrewd reply of the three, as they now seized the bridle of the unfortunate man's horse, and challenged his business in that place. Seeing, beyond all doubt, the hands he had fallen into, Andre quickly shifted his tactics by jocosely remarking that what he 50 TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. had first represented himself to be was merely by way of badinage, and that he was in reality a Continental officer, going down to Dobbs Ferry to get information from below ; so saying, he drew forth and showed them the pass from General Arnold. This in the first place would have sufficed, but his strange conduct and imprudent speech had so thoroughly betrayed him, that the three militiamen insisted on searching his person. They therefore obliged him to take off his coat and vest, and found on him eighty dollars in Conti- nental money, but nothing to warrant sus- picion of anything sinister, and were about to let him proceed, when one of them — marks on the works ; also other important documents. "While dressing again, Andre endeavored to ransom himself from his captors. He would give any sum of money, if they would let him go; would give his horse, saddle, bridle, gold watch, and one hundred guineas, and would send them to any place that might be fixed upon. Williams asked, ironically, whether he would not give more than all that. Andre replied, that he would give any reward they might name either in goods or money, and would remain with two of their party while one went to New York to get it. ^■r«fSx% CAPTURB OF ANDRE. Paulding, a stout-hearted youngster — ex- claimed: "Boys, I am not satisfied — his boots must come off." At this Andre changed color. His boots, he said, came off with difficulty, and he begged he might not be subjected to the inconvenience and delay. His remon- strances were in vain. He was compelled to sit down ; his boots were drawn off and the concealed papers discovered. Hastily scanning them, Paulding exclaimed — " Ml/ God / He is a spy ! " The papers, which were in the hand- writing of Arnold, contained exact returns of the state of the forces, ordnance, and defenses of West Point, with critical re- Here Paulding broke in and declared with an oath, that if he would give ten thousand guineas he should not stir one step. On the morning of the twenty-eighth of September, Andre, in charge of Major Tallmadge, was conveyed in a barge to King's Ferry. Being both young, of equal rank, and prepossessing manners, a frank and cordial intercourse grew up between them. By a cartel, mutually agreed upon, each miglit put to the other any question not involving a third person. They were passing below the rocky heights of West Point and in full view of the frowning fortress, when Tallmadge asked Andre whether he would have taken an active TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 51 part in the attack on it, should Arnold's plan have succeeded. Andre promptly answered this question in the affirmative; pointed out a table of land on the west shore, where he would have landed a select corps, described the route he would have taken up the moun- tain to a height in the rear of Fort Put- nam, overlooking the whole parade of West Point — " and this he did," writes Tallmadge, " with much greater exactness than I could have done. This eminence he would have reached without difficulty, as Arnold would have disposed of the gar- rison in such manner as to be capable of little or no opposition — and then the key public ear, and all hearts turned for relief to the wisdom of Washington. Unfortu- nately for the ends of justice, Andre asked permission of Colonel Jameson, as soon as he was taken to the latter's custody, to write to General Arnold, to inform him that ' Anderson ' was detained. Not knowing the rank of his prisoner nor the magnitude of the plot, the letter was al- lowed by Jameson to be sent, and Arnold, being thus apprised, escaped. Colonel Jameson also forwarded to General Wash- ington the papers found on the prisoner, and a statement of the manner in which he was taken. The papers sent to Washington missed of the country would have been in his hands, and he would have had the glory of the splendid achievement." Tallmadge ventured to ask Andre what was to have been his reward had he succeeded. To this the reply was : " Military glory was all I sought. The thanks of my general and the approbation of my king would have been a rich reward for such an under- taking." Tallmadge also adds : "I think he further remarked, that, if he had suc- ceeded, he was to have been promoted to the rank of a brigadier-general." The news of Andre's arrest and Arnold's treason fell like a thunderbolt upon the him, as he did not return by the road he went, but took the northern route to Fish- kill, where, September twenty-fourth, he arrived late in the afternoon, the very day after Andre's capture, — of which event and of Arnold's treason he was wholly unconscious. Stopping at Fishkill only a short time, he pushed on for the quarters of his brave general, Arnold, some eighteen miles distant. He had gone, however, but a mile or two, before he met the French minister. Chevalier Luzerne, on his way to Newport, to visit Eochambeau, the French naval commander. The latter prevailed on him to return to Fishkill for the night, 52 TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. as he had matters of importance to com- municate. The ne.xt morning, Washington was early in the saddle, having sent word be- forehand to Arnold that he would break- fast with him. It was a bright autumnal morning, and the whole party in high spirits pushed rapidly forward through the gorges of the Highlands. As they came opposite West Point, Washington, instead of continuing on to Arnold's quarters, which were on the same side, turned his horse down a narrow road toward the river. Lafaj-ette observing this, ex- claimed — " General, you are going in the wrong direction ; you know Mrs. Arnold is wait- ing breakfast for us, and that road will take us out of the way." Jameson, commanding at North Castle, announcing the capture of Andre, and who had been brought in to Jameson's post, by three militiamen, Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart, his captors, whom the gallant but unfortunate man vainly endeavored to bribe, in order to his release. They knew him to be a spy, but were ignorant of his military rank. Merely remarking that his presence at West Point was necessary, Arnold re- quested the aids to say to Washington on his arrival that he was unexpectedlj^ called over the river, and would be back soon. Repairing to his wife's chamber, he sent for her at the breakfast table, and told her that he must instantly leave her and his country forever, for death was his certain doom if he did not reach the enemy before WEST POINT IN 1780. " Ah ! " replied Washington, laughingly, "I know you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as soon as possible. You may go and take breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down and examine the redoubts on this side of the river, and will be there in a short time." The officers preferring not to proceed without him, two aids were dispatched to tell Arnold not to wait breakfast. The latter, therefore, with his family and the two aids sat down to the table. While they were conversing on indifferent topics, a messenger entered and handed a letter to Arnold, who opened and read it in pres- ence of the company, without, of course, di- vulging its contents. It was from Colonel he was detected. Paralyzed by the sud- den blow, she fell senseless at his feet. Not daring to call for help, Arnold left her in that state, and rapidly descending to the door, mounted one of the horses belonging to Washington's aids, and taking a by-way pushed for the river, where his barge was moored. Jumping in, he or- dered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's Point. Stimulating them to greater efforts by the promise of two gallons of rum, he swept rapidly past Verplanck's Point, and as he approached the British ship Vulture, waved a white handkerchief, and was soon on board. In the meantime, Washington, having finished his survey, rode on to Arnold's house. Taking a hasty breakfast, and being informed that TEEASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 53 Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell, he said lie would not wait for Arnold to return, but cross over to West Point and meet him there. As the boat swept over the water, he remarked — "Well, gentlemen, I am glad on the whole that General Arnold has gone before us, for we shall now have a salute, and the roaring of the cannon will have a fine effect among these mountains." At this moment an officer was seen coming down the rocky hill-side, to meet the barge. It was Colonel Lamb, who looked confounded on seeing the commander-in-chief. He commenced an apology, declaring that he was wholly ignorant of his excellency's intention to visit West Point. " How is this, sir," broke in Wash- ington, "is not General Arnold here?" "No, sir," replied the colonel, "he has not been here these two days, nor have I heard from him in that time." "This is extraordinary," replied Wash- ington ; " he left word that he had crossed the river. However, our visit must not be in vain. Since we have come, we must look around and see iu what state things are with you." And now it was that Hamilton broke the astounding news to his chief. The latter, stunned and bewildered, ordered Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for life to Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold, if possible ; he called in Knox and Lafay- ette, and told them what had occurred, merely remarking at the close, " Whom can ive trust now?" His countenance was calm as ever, and being informed that Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on insanity, he went up to her room to soothe her. In her frenzy she upbraided him with being in a plot to murder her child. One moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Sometimes she pressed her infant to her bosom and lamented its fate, occasioned by the imprudence of its father, in a manner that would have pierced in- sensibility itself. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when these disclosures of Arnold's treason and Andre's capture were made to Washington, and, an hour later, dinner being announced, he said — "Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold is unwell and the general is absent, let us sit down without ceremony." No one at the table but Knox and La- fayette knew what had transpired, nor did Washington exhibit any change or demeanor, except that he was more than ;!:ni:hai, arn' HEAD-QUARTERS. usually stern in his voice and manner. But his mind, oppressed with nameless fears, wandered far away from that dinner table, and no sooner was the quiet repast over than he addressed himself to the task before him. He wrote rapidly, and cour- iers were soon seen galloping in every di- rection. He announced the treason to Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, in the absence of Colonel Lamb, in the single sentence, " General Ai-nold is gone to the enemy." Having done all he could to arrest the tremendous evils that threat- ened to overwhelm him, Washington re- tired late at night to his bed, fearful that the sound of the enemy's cannon, under the auspices of Arnold's treacherous schemes, would awake him before day- light. It happily did not prove so. A court-martial, having condemned Andre as a spy. Sir Henry Clinton, the British general, put forth every effort to avert the drendful fate of his officer. He sent three commissioners to reason and re- monstrate with the officers of the court. He appealed to Washington, while Arnold wrrrte him a threatening letter, declaring if Andre was hung he would revenge his death on every American prisoner that fell into his hands. Washington deigned no reply to the letter, but tenderly forwarded 64 TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. Mrs. Arnold and her baggage over to the British side. Washington, though his heart was filled with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one so universal]}' beloved, and possessed of such noble qualities of heart and mind, refused to arrest the course of justice. As in all cases where great trouble came upon him. so in this, he said but little, but sternly and silently wrestled with it alone. Arnold was made brigadier-general in the British service, and put on an official level with honorable men, who scorned, how- ever, to associate with him. What goldin reward he was to have received had he succeeded in delivering West Point to the enemy, is not known j £30,000, most prob- ably. V. CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.— 1781. Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King George — Tlieir Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of their Fairest Possessiion. — Wasliington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as their Deliverer. — Last Act in the Military Drama. — Cornwaliis Halts at Yorktown. — Makes it His Defensive Post. — Decoy Letter Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly Fortified. — American and French Forces United. — Their Advance on the Enemy. — Furious Bombardment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts to Retreat. — Cornwaliis Prefers Death to Defeat. — Reckless Bravery of Washington. — Ardor and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwaliis Fails of Re-enforcements. — He Asks a Cessation of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Amer- icans. — Mortification of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress. "Oh.GodI It u all over—it ieaUoverl"— LOED Nobtu, rRiuE Minister or Ekolaicd, on Uearinq or CoRNWALLis'g Surbbnder. T the liead of a powerful army, -with which he had just established himself in Virginia, Lord Cornwaliis vaunt- ingly wrote to General Clinton, his superior, as follows : — " I have ventured, these last two days, to look General Washington's whole force in tlie face, in the posi- tion on the outside of my works, and have the pleasure to assure your Ex- cellency that there is but one wish throughout the army, which is, that the enemy would advance." Scarcely did Cornwaliis h.ave time to awake from his day-dream of security, when a courier was thundering at the doors of the Continental Congress, with the following dispatch from General Washington : " I have the honor to infortn congress that a reduction of the British army, tinder tlie command of Lord Cornwaliis, is most happily effected. The unremitted ardor, which actuated every officer and soldier in the combined army on this occasion, has principally led to this important event, at an earlier period than nij' most sanguine hopes had induced me to expect. The singular spirit of emulation, which animated the whole army from the first commencement of our operations, has filled my mind with the THE HOnSE WHERE COKSWALLIS SURRENDERED. 56 COENWALLIS' SUKEENDEK. higbest pleasure and satisfaction, and had given me the happiest presages of success." A glorious event, one eliciting the most unbounded demonstrations of joy throughout the United States, and which completely destroyed British military power at the s;outh, thus setting the seal of American success ujjon the contest with the mother country, — was the capture, as announced in the above dispatch, of Lord Cornwall is and his splendid army, at York- town, Virginia, in October, 1781, by the combined American and French forces under General Washington and Counts de Eochambeau and Grasse. Ta the summer of 1781, Cornwallis had taken possession of several j'laces in the south, and, in the latter part of July, de- sirous of establishing himself firmly in Virginia, he accordingly selected York- town as a suitable defensive post and capa- ble of protecting ships of the line. Little did he think, as he began leisurely to for- tify the place, (hat it was a net which would entangle him in crushed hopes and ruined fortunes. Yorktown is situated at the narrowest part of the peninsula formed by the York and James rivers, where the distance across is but eight miles. By placing his troops, therefore, around the village, and drawing about them a range of outer redoubts and field works calcu- lated to command this peninsula, Cornwal- lis had, as he thought, established himself well. Lafayette, with an inferior number of troops, was at this time at Williamsburg, but was unable to make successful engage- ments with the superior force of the Brit- ish. Seeing, at once, the importance of putting some check upon the progress of Cornwallis at the south, Washington de- termined to unite the American and French forces, then in the neighborhood of New York, and join Lafayette at Williamsburg. This junction was effected on the four- teenth of September, Washington being at the head of the American troops, and the Count de Eochambeau at the head of the French forces. At the same time the Count de Grasse, with his fleet, entered the Chesapeake, after a slight engagement with Admiral Graves off the capes, and was joined by the squadron of tlie Count de Barras from Newport. Three thou- sand men, under the Marquis St. Simon, were also added to the troops under La- fayette's command; and these combined forces then moved toward Yorktown and Gloucester, where Corwallis was sta- tioned. The British general had been expect)ng aid from Sir Henry Clinton at the north, but so adroitly had Washington withdrawn his troops, that Sir Henry scarcely sus- pected his design, till it was too late to frustrate it. On the thirteenth of Septem- ber, ths allied army occujiied the outer lines of Cornwallis, which that general had abandoned without a struggle. York- town was in a short time completely invested; the American army occupying the right, and the French the left, forming a semi-circle with each wing resting upon the river. On tlic night of the sixth of October the besieging a-my broke ground within six hundred yards of the British lines; and the first parallel was completed with little loss. On the ninth and tenth, guns were mounted on the works, and the batteries began to play, with visible effect, on the lines of the enemy. ]\Lany of their guns were soon silenced, and their works damaged. By the eleventh, the enemy scarcely returned a shot. The shells and red-hot balls of the besiegers reached the shipping in the harbor, and set the Charon frigate of forty-four guns, and several large transports on fire, which were en- tirely consumed. On the night of the eleventh, the second parallel was begun within three hundred yards of the British lines. The working parties were not dis- covered until day-light, when the trenches were in a situation to cover the men. But there were two redoubts in particu- lar, in front of the British lines and which flanked the second parallel of the Ameri- cans, that gave great annoyance to the latter, and it was deemed necessary to carry them by storm. To jirevent national jealousy, however, and to keep alive the CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 57 spirit of emulation which animated the co- operating armies, the attack of one was assigned to the American troops, and that of the otliev to tlie French. Lafayette commanded the American detachment and the Baron de Viominet the French. Colonel Hamilton, who through this cam- paign commanded a battalion of light in- fantry, led the advanced corps of the Americans to the assault, while Colonel Laurens turned the redoubt and attacked in his confidence of triumph, had so recently written to his superior. Sir Henry Clinton. Having failed in his sortie, and knowing that his position had become untenable, the British general took the desperate res- olution of crossing over to Gloucester Point in the night, and cutting his way through the blockading force there — tben, mounting his men on whatever horses he could seize, make a rapid march northward and join Sir Henry Clinton ! By this COHNWALLIS'S in the rear, to prevent the retreat of the garrison. Without giving time for the abattis to be removed, and without firing a gun, the Americans gallantly assaulted, and instantly carried the works, with a small loss of men on either side. The re- doubt attacked by the French being more strongly garrisoned made greater resist- ance, and was overcome with a much heav- ier loss. The success of these movements was a stunning blow to Cornwallis, who. SUBUBKUKK. movement he would abandon his sick and baggage ; but he would save himself the disgrace of a surrender. Boats were se- cretly procured, and the first embarkation reached the point safely and unperceived; but, at this juncture, a violent storm arose, which drove the boats down the river. The tempest continuing until day-light, the enterprise was necessarily given up, and the troops that had passed over gladly re-crossed to the southern field. 58 CORNWALLIS" SURRENDER. In the mortification and anguish of his soul, Cornwallis shed tears, and expressed his preference for death rather than the ignominy of a surrender. But there was no resource — the handwriting on the wall was against him — the fate of war must be accepted. The siege had continued close for more than two weeks, and, notwith- standing the losses in killed, wounded, and missing, that had been sustained, the Brit- ish army showed a handsome force of be- tween seven and eight thousand trained fighting men, of unquestioned bravery, but who were soon to capitulate to the besieg- ing forces, numbering, in all, some sixteen thousand men, less disciplined, perhaps, but determined and indomitable. Of Washington, the central character and actor in this great drama, every American heart engrossingly thinks. Knowing that Sir Henry Clinton had ■written to Cornwallis, bidding him to strengthen his position at Yorktown, and promising him the immediate aid of both land and naval force.s, Washington h.id, seasonably and with shrewd forecast, writ- ten a letter to Lafayette, then in Virginia, which he caused to be intercepted. In this letter he remarked that he was pleased with the probability that Earl Cornwallis would fortifjf either Portsmouth or Old Point Comfort, for, were he to fix upon Yorktown, from its great capabilities of defense, he might remain there snugly and unharmed, until a superior British fleet would relieve him with strong re-enforce- ments, or embark him altogether. This decoy letter quieted the apprehen- sions of the British commander-in-chief as to the danger of Cornwallis, and produced those delays in the operations of Sir Henry, which, as will have been seen, tended so materially to the success of the allies and the surrender of Yorktown. Thus it was that Washington by liis pen, laid the train of success so well. Nor less so with his sword. In the simultaneous attack upon the redoubts, made by the combined American and French army, Washington was an intensely-excited spectator. He had dismounted from his horse — the mag- nificent chaiger, named Nelson, — and put him in the care of a servant, while the general himself took his stand in the grand battery with his two chief generals, Lin- coln and Knox, and their aids, and here lie exposed himself to everj' danger. When all was over, at this critical junc- ture, — the redoubts being taken, and Washington's intense anxiety so happily relieved, — the general drew a long breath, and looking at Knox with an expression of extreme satisfaction, remarked, brieflj', " The work is done, and tvell done ! '' Motioning to his faithful servant, who was quickly in his presence, he said, "William, bring me my horse," — mounting which, the chieftain proceeded to make sure that the success which had attended the first par- allel was followed up energetically until no loop-hole was left, through which Corn- wallis might escape. No such loop-hole was afforded, and Cornwallis's doom was sealed. It was a proud day for the war-worn troops of America to see so fine an army not only within their grasp, but, to all in- tents and purposes, completely at their disposal, — -waiting only those last formali- ties which give solemn dignity to the de- crees already made by the sword, — and they saw, in the coming event, the final catastrophe of British rule in America, — the close of the Revolutionary drama, — the establishment of a free and independ- ent republic. As alreadj' remarked, Corn- wallis had hoped for succor to the last, but the slaughter of his men became too seri- ous to be any longer endured, and finally the loud beat of the chamade was heard in the intervals of the explosions of cannon, and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then sent a flag of truce requesting a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to ar- range the terms of capitulation. To this Washington would not consent, fearing that the arrival of the English fleet in the meantime might alter the aspect of affairs, and allowed him but two hours in which to transmit his proposals. The full sur- render took place the next day, October 19, 1781, the articles of capitulation being CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 59 signed by Cornwallis at the house of a Mr. Moore. At about 12 o'clock of that day, the combined continental army was drawn up ia two lines more than a mile in length, the Americans on the right side of the road, and their French allies on the left. Washington, mounted on a noble steed, and attended by his staff, was in front of the former; the Count de Rochambeau and his suite, of the latter. The French troops, in complete uniform, and well equipped, made a brilliant appearance, and had marched to the ground with a band of music playing, which was a novelty in the American service. The American troops, but part iu uniform, and all in garments much the worse for wear, j'et had a spirited soldier-like air, and were not the worse in the eyes of their countrymen for bearing the marks of hard service and great priva- tions. The concourse of spectators drawn from all the neighboring country to witness a scene so thrilling and momentous, was almost equal in number to the military, but silence and order prevailed unbroken. The enthusiasm throughout the country, on the surrender of Cornwallis, was un- bounded. " Cornivallis is taken/" was the message which sped itself with the wings of the wind to every city, town and village, and was shouted by every mouth. But the mortification of Cornwallis was intense, and the British cabinet, on hear- ing the news, turned pale with despair. Lords Germain, Walsingham, and Stor- mount, proceeded to Lord North's house, and there, at midnight, announced to him the portentous dispatcli. The haughty premier was astounded and humbled. In the words of Lord Germain, in answer to the inquiry how Lord North received the aews? — "As lie would have received a ball in his breast; for he opened his arms, ex- claiming wildly as lie paced up and down tlie apartment, ' Oh God ! It is all over — it is all over J'" King George III. was at Kew, and the intelligence was forwarded to him at that place. He exhibited no loss of self-control, it is said, notwithstanding the hopes which had been centered in Corn- wallis and his army, to give triumph to the British arms. It is well known that, during the month of November, the accounts received by the British government, of Lord Cornwallis's embarrassments, gave great anxiety to the cabinet. Lord George Germain, in partic- ular, conscious that on the prosperous or adverse result of Cornwallis's movements hinged the result of the whole American contest, as well as his own political fate — and probably the duration of the ministry itself, — expressed to his friends the strong- est uneasiness on the subject. The meet- ing of parliament stood fixed for the 27th of that month. On the 25th, the official intelligence of the unconditional surrender of the British forces of Yorktown, arrived at Lord Germain's house. Lord Walsing- ham, who, previous to his father. Sir Wil- liam de Grej''s elevation to the peerage, had been under-secretary of state in that department, and who was to second the address in the house of lords, happened to be there when the messenger brought the news. Without communicating it to any unofficial person. Lord George, for the purpose of dispatch, immediately got with him into a hackney-coach, and drove to Lord Storniouut's residence in Portland Place. Having imparted the disastrous information to him, they determined, after a short consultation, to lay the intelligence themselves iu person before Lord North, with what result has already been stated on the authority of a writer in Blackwood's Magazine. The next picture is that of a cabinet council in terror. When the first agitation had subsided, the four ministers discussed the question, whether it might not be ex- pedient to prorogue the meeting of parlia- ment for a few days ; but as scarcely an interval of forty-eight hours remained be- fore the appointed time of meeting, and as many members of both houses had arrived in London, or were on their way, the prop- osition was abandoned. It became, how- ever, indispensable to alter, and almost remodel, the king's speech. This was done without delay, and at the same time 60 CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. Lord George, as secretary for the American department, sent off a dispatch to tlie king, then at Kew, acquainting him with Cornwallis's fate. One who was intimate in the circle of court actors and secrets at that time says : — I dined that day at Lord George's, and although the information which had reached London in the course of the morn- ing from France, as well as from the offi- cial report, was of a nature not to admit of long concealment, yet it had not been communicated to me or any other individ- ual of the company when I got to Pall Mall, between five ami six o'clock. Lord Walsingham, who also dined there, was then the only person, except Lord George, officially knowing to the fact. The party, nine in number, sat down to the table. I thought the master of the house appeared serious, though he manifested no discom- posure. Before dinner was over, a letter was brought from the king, by the messen- ger who had been dispatched to him with the startling intelligence. Lord Walsing- ham simply indulged in the observation : "The king writes just as he always docs, except that I perceive he has neglected to mark the hour and minute of his writing with his usual precision." This remark, though calculated to awaken some interest, excited no comment; and while the ladies. Lord George's three daughters, remained in the room, all manifestation of curiosity was repressed. But they had no sooner withdrawn, than Lord George having com- municated the fact that information had iust arrived from Paris of the old Count Maurepas, first minister of the French cabinet, lying at the point of death, the remark was made by one of the party — " It would grieve me to finish my career, however far advanced in j'ears, were I first minister of France, before I had witnessed the termination of this great contest be- tween England and America." "He has survived to see that event," at once replied Lord George Germain, with some agitation. The conversation was continued, until, on the more particular mention of the Vir- ginia campaign, the minister disclosed the full bearing of the intelligence he had received, saj'ing — " The army has surrendered, and you may jieruse the j)articulars of the capitula- tion in that jiaper." The paper was taken from his pocket, and read to the company. The next ques- tion was one of rather an obtrusive kind, to learn what the king thought on the subject. In reply to this, the minister's remark did the highest credit to his raaj- estj''s firmness, fortitude and consistency. The minister even allowed the king's bil- let to be read, and it was as follows : — ' I have received, with sentiments of the deepest concern, the communication which Lord George Germain has made to me, of the unfortunate result of the operations to Virginia. I particularly lament it, on account of the consequences connected with it and the difficulties which it may produce in carrying on the public business, or in repairing such a misfortune. But I trust that neither Lord Germain, nor any other member of the cabinet, will suppose that it makes the smallest alteration in those principles of my conduct, which have di- rected me in the past time, which will al- ways continue to animate me under every event, in the prosecution of the present contest.' The cabinet, strengthened by the royal determination, now recovered courage; they met parliament at the appointed time, and fought their battle there with unusual vigor. Perhaps in all the annals of sena- torial struggle, there never was a crisis which more powerfully displayed the talents of the Commons. Burke, Fox, and Pitt, were at once seen pouring down the whole fiery torrent of declamation on the government. But at all events, the success of the siege of Yorktown, it is generally under- stood, decided the revolutionary war. " The infant Hercules," said Dr. Franklin, " has now strangled the two serpents, that attacked him in his cradle." AH the world agree that no expedition was arer better planned or better executed. For the CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 61 " great glory and advantage " of Cornwal- lis's subjection, W:isliington afterwards acknowledged himself chiefly indebted to the French alliance. And in (he isroceed- ings of congress upon the matter, it was amongst other things: 'Resolved, that congress cause to be erected at Yorktown a marble column, adorned with emblems of the alliance between the United States and France, and inscribed with a succinct narrative of the siege, and capitulation.' Special thanks were also tendered bj' that body's vote, to each commander engaged in the siege ; and to Washington were presented two stands of colors taken from the enemjr, and two pieces of field ordnance to Counts Rochambeau and de Grasse. The next day after the surrender was the Sabbath, and Washington ordered special divine service in each of the brig- ades of the American army. He also by public proclamation congratulated the allied armies on the auspicious victory, awarding high praise to the officers and troops, both French and American, for their conduct daring the siege, and speci- fying by name several of the generals and other officers who liad especially distin- guished themselves. All those of his army who were under arrest were pardoned and set free. News of this glorious victory sped like lightning over the land. Washington dis- patched at once one of his aids, Colonel Tilghman, to congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The swift rider dashed on a gallop into the city at midnight — the clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound that broke the silence of the deserted streets, as he pressed straight for the house of McKean, then president of congress. Thundering at the door as though he would force an entrance, he roused the sleeping president, saying, " Cornwallis is taken ! " The watchmen caught the words, and when they called " One o'clock," they added, "and Cornwallis is taken!" As they moved slowly on their nightly rounds, windows were flung open and eager coun- tenances were everywhere scanning the streets. A hum, like that of a.i awaken- ing hive, immediately pervaded the city. The inhabitants went pouring into the streets, w-hile shout after shout rose on the midnight air. The old bellman was roused from his slumbers, and soon the iron tongue of the bell at the state-house rang out, as of old, " Proclaim libertj' through- out all the land to all the inhabitants thereof." The dawn was greeted with the booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, and shouts of joy, and tears of thanksgiving, accompanied the glad news as it traveled exultingly over the length and breadth of the land. Every voice was loud in its praise of General Washington, and of his gallant ally, the Count de Rochambeau. It is stated as an interesting fact in the history of this great event and the charac- ter of the two chief commanders, that, on the day after the surrender, Cornwallis went in person to pay his respects to Gen- eral Washington and await his orders. The captive chief was received with all the courtesy due to a gallant and unfortunate foe. The elegant manners, together with the manly, frank, and soldierly bearing of j Cornwallis, soon made him a prime favor- ite at head-quarters, and he often formed part of the suite of the commander-in- chief in his rides to inspect the leveling of the works previous to the retirement of the combined American and French armies from before Yorktown. At the grand din- ner given at the head-quarters to the offi- cers of the three armies, Washington filled his glass, and, after his favorite toast, whether in peace or war, of "All our 62 CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. friends," gave "The British army," with some complimentary remarks upon its chief, his proud career in arms, and his srallant defense of Yorktown. When it came to Cornwallis's turn, he prefaced his toast by saying that the war was virtually at an end, and the contending parties would soon embrace as friends ; there might be affairs of posts, but nothing on a mc>j:e enlarged scale, as it was scarcely to be expected that the ministry would send another army to America. Then turning to Washington, his lordship con- tinued — " And when the illustrious part that your excellency has borne in this long and arduous contest becomes matter of history, fame will gather your brightest laurels rather from the banks of the Delaware than from those of the Chesapeake." VI. ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— 1783. Affectinf Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Coniradesin-Arms. — Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress,— In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His Supreme Authority, Returns His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private Citizen. — History of the Election of a Military Leader. — America's Destiny in His Hands. — Appointment of George Wash- ington The Army at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically Greeted. Leads Its Fortunes Seven Years. — Record of His Generalship. — Ends the War in Tri- umph. Scheme to Make Him King. — Indignantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His Troops. His Strong Attachment for Them. — Intention to Leave Public Life — Congress Informed of this Fact.— Embarkation from New York.— Homage Paid Him Everywhere —Arrival at Annapo- lig Proceeds to the Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial Tliere. — Rare Event in Human History. " HaviD^ DOW flniBhed the work aaaiffned me, I retire from the theater of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell to thli august body^ under whoie orders I have eo long acted, I hereoffer my commiaaiou, and take my leave of all the employments of public Ufe."— Wasuino- TOH'S RKTIBBMENT A3 RETOLUTION AST LfiADEn. ■WASHINGTON' in regard ern, and HAT momentous object for which the War of Independence was for seven long years waged, under the supreme leadership of General \ Washington, having been achieved by the unconditional acknowledg- ment of that independence on the part of Great Britain, a cessation of hostilities was formally announced by congress to a rejoicing people. Washington's military course having thus honorably and successfully terminated, ' e, Cincinnatus-like, sheathed his sword, and surrendered his high commission to that power which had in- vested him with its authoritj'. It will, therefore, not only be appro- priate, but of peculiar interest, to link together, in one narrative, the circumstances attending his appointment to the responsible office of commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army, and that last great act — the Return of his Commission — in the stupendous drama of which he was the central figure. To that sterling old patriot, John Adams, the credit of the wisdom of selecting Washington as military chieftain principallj' belongs. It was a question, on the decision of which hung the fate of the rev- olutionary cause ; and in all parts of the country, among the people at large as well as in the more immediate circles of congress, by whom the great question was finally to be determined, the discussion as to who should be chosen as the nation's leader in the councils of '3 SWORD, war and on the battle-field, was universal. Mr. Adams states that to this election, there was in congress a southern party against a north- a jealousy against a New England army under the command of a 64 ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. New England general ; but -whether this jealousy was sincere, or whetlicr it was mere pride and ambition — the ambition of furnishing a southern general to command the northern arm 3-, — was a matter of doubt. The intention, however, was very visible that Colonel Washington was their object. The military ability which had been dis- played, on different occasions, by Colonel Washington, were well understood, and, from the consiiicuous positions in which he had thus been placed, and the saga- cious judgment which was known to have characterized him in imjjortant emergen- cies, he had, for a long time past, enjoyed a fine reputatioa throughout the colonies, as a gallant and successful officer. He was only in a moderate sense a partisan, in the difficulties and discussions which had arisen between his own and the mother country ; but, from the very first, he ex- hibited sufficient repugnance to any atti- tude of v.assalage, on the part of his coun- trymen, to show that he would be no will- ing subject of coeicion, should the preten- sions of the British be attempted to be car- ried out by threats, or by recourse to arms. When congress had assembled, Mr. John Adams arose in his place, and in as short a speech as the subject would admit represented the state of the colonies, tlie uncertainty in the minds of the people, their great expectation and anxietj^, the distresses of the arm}', the danger of its dissolution, the difficult}' of collecting .an- other ; and the jirobability th.at the Brit- ish army would take advantage of these delays, march out of Boston, and spread desolation as far as thej' could go. Ho concluded with a motion, in form, that congress would adopt the army at Cam- bridge, and appoint a general ; that though this was not the proper time to nominate a general, yet as there existed reasons for believing this to be the greatest difficulty, he had no hesitation to declare that there was but one gentleman in his mind for that important office, and that was a gen- tleman from Yirginia^-one of their own number, and well known to them all, — a gentleman whose skill and experience as an officer, whose independent fortune, great talents, and excellent general character, would cmnmand the approbation of all America, and unite the cordial exertions of all the colonies better than any other person in the Union. Mr. W^ashington, who happened to sit near the door, as soon as he heard this al- iusion to himself, with his usual modesty, darted into the library' room. The subject came under debate, and several gentlemen declared themselves against the .appointment of Mr. Washing- ton, not on account of any personal objec- tion against him, but because the army were all from New England, had a general of their own, appeared to be satisfied with him, and had proved themselves able to imprison the British army in Boston. Mr. Pendleton, of Virginia, and Mr. Sherman, of Connecticut, were very ex- plicit in declaring this opinion. Mr. Cushing and others more faintly expressed their opposition, and their fears of discon- tent in the army and in New England. Mr. Paine expressed a great opinion of General Ward, and a strong friendship for him, having been his classmate at col- lege, or, at least, his contemporary ; but gave no opinion on the question. The subject was postponed to a future day. In the meantime, pains were taken out of doors to obtain a unanimity, and the voices were generally so clearly in favor of Wash- ington, that the dissenting members wei3 persuaded to withdraw their opposition, and Mr. W^ashington was nominated by Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, unan- imously elected, and the army adopted. His official commission was at once drawn np and presented to him ; a copy of which most interesting document is given below : — " In Congress. We the delegates of the United Colonies of New Hampshire, Mas- sachusetts Bay, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New Castle, Kent, and Sussex on Dela- ware, Jlaryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina, ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 65 To Oiorge Washington, Esquire : We, reposing special trust and confi- dence in your patriotism, conduct, and fidelity, do by these presents constitute and appoint you to be General and Com- mander-in-Chief of the army of the United Colonies, and of all the forces raised or to be raised by them, and of all others who shall voluntarily offer their services and join the said army for the de- fense of American liberty, and for repelling ever}' hostile invasion thereof. And you are hereby invested with full power and authority to act as you shall think for the good and welfare of the service. And we do hereby strictly charge and require all officers and soldiers under your command to be obedient to your orders, and diligent in the exercise of their several duties. And we do also enjoin and require you to be careful in executing the great trust reposed in you, by causing strict discipline and order to be observed in the army, and that the soldiers are duly exercised and provided with all convenient necessaries. And you are to regulate your conduct in every respect by the rules and discipline of war, (as herewith given you,) and punc- tually to observe and follow such direc- tions, from time to time, as j'ou shall re- ceive from this or a future Congress of the said United Colonies, or "a Committee of Congress for that purpose appointed. This commission to continue in force till revoked by this or a future Congress. By order of Congress. John Hancock, President. Dated, Philadelphia, June 19, 1775. Attest, CH.4.ELES Thomson, Secretarj'." On the second day of July, 1775, Wash- ington arrived in Cambridge, Massachu- setts, accompanied by Major-General Lee, his next in command, and other officers, establishing his head-quarters at the man- sion subsequently occupied by Longfellow, the elegant scholar and poet. At about nine o'clock on the morning of the next day, Washington, attended by a suitable escort, proceeded from his head-quarters to a great elm tree— one of the majestic na- tives of the forest, — near Harvard College, and where the continental forces were drawn up in military order. Under the shadow of that wide-spreading tree, Wash- ington, moving forward a few paces, drew his sword as commander-in-chief of the American army, declaring that it should THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. never be sheathed until the liberties of his countrj' were established. The record of his services is the historj' of the whole war. Joining the army in July, 1775, he compelled the British to evacuate Boston in March, 1776 ; he then followed the British to New York, fighting the battle of Long Island on the twentj'-seventh of August, and that of White Plains on the twentv-eighth of October. On the twentj-- fifth of December he made the memorable passage of the Delaware, and soon gained the victories of Trenton and Princeton. The battle of Brandywine was fought on the eleventh of September, 1777, and that of Germantown, October fourth. Febru- ary twenty-eighth, 1778, witnessed his " gloriou" and happj^ day," as he himself termed it, at Monmouth. In 1779 and 1780 he conducted the militarj' operations in the vicinity of New York ; after which, in 1781, lie marched to Virginia to watch the movements of Lord Cornwallis, whom he forced to surrender at Yorktown, in October, by which great achievement he put an end to the active operations of the revolutionary struggle, and secured peace and independence to his countr}-. With the return of peace, and the achievement of independent nationality, 66 ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. tlie wisdom and patriotism of Washington were to be severe!}' tested, and in a most unexpected manner, in connection witli tlie form of government to be adopted by tlie United States. The English government Ti-as regarded by many of tlie strongest American minds as, in most respects, a model one ; and by many persons the En- glish form of a constitutional monarchy was decided, especially by some of the army officers, to be the most promising, and thus far the most successful, experi- ment in government, and the one most this scheme called a secret meeting, and finally determined on tlie title of Kikg, and Washington was informed of the fact. He spurned the gilded bribe of a king's crown, and promptly and sternly rebuked the abettors of the scheme in the following letter addressed to their leader : "Sit; — With a mixture of great sur- prise and astonishment, I have read witli attention the sentiments you have sub mitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of this war has given me more painful sensations than \\"A?«HINti TON'S KESIliNATIOX. likely to be adopted by America upon due deliberation. Universal dissatisfaction was felt with the proceedings and conduct of congress as a governing power, and there- fore some agency superior to that, and of controlling prerogative, was proposed, — a head, like the English sovereign, with proper safeguards against usurpation. Circumstances, of course, indicated Wash- ington as that head, and the next ques- tion naturally arose — under what official title should such a head rule ? The officers around Newburgh who were associated in your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as jouhave expressed, and which I must view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the present, the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agitation of the matter shall make a dis- closure necessary. I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given encouragement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of ADIEU TO THE AKMY BY WASHINGTON. 67 myself, j'ou could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagree- able. At the same time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more serious wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do; and, as far as my power and influence, in a con- stitutional way, extend, they shall be em- ployed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there be any occasion. Let me conjure j'ou, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern for your- seK or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from j-our mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a sentiment of the like na- ture." In perfect keeping with the spirit in which Washington treated the dazzling offer thus so unexpectedly set before him, was the simplicity of his conduct in bid- ding adieu to his comrades-in-arms, and then presenting himself before congress, there to deliver up his sword, and volunta- rily divest himself of the supreme com- mand; — in the serene and thoughtful phraseology of his own words, " to address himself once more, and that for the last time, to the armies of the United States, however widely dispersed the individuals who compose them may be, and to bid them an affectionate and a long farewell." For the last time, he assembled them at Newburgh, when he rode out on the field, and gave them one of those paternal ad- dresses which so eminently characterized his relationship with his army. To the tune of " Koslin Castle," — the soldier's dirge, — his brave comrades passed slowly by their great leader, and filed away to their respective homes. It was a thrilling scene. There were gray-headed soldiers, who had grown old by hardships and exposures, and too old to begin life anew ; tears coursed freely the furrowed cheeks of these veter- ans. Among the thousands passing in review before him were those, also, who liaddone valorous service when the destiny of the country hung tremblingly in the balance. As Washington looked upon them for the last time, he said, " I am growing old in my country's service, and losing my sight ; but I never doubted its justice or gratitude." Even on the rudest and roughest of the soldiery, the effect of his parting language was irresistible. On the fourth of December, 1783, by Washington's request, his officers in full uniform, assembled in Fraunces's tavern, New York, to take a final leave of their commander-in-chief. On entering the room, and finding himself surrounded by his old companions-in-arms, who had shared with him so many scenes of hard- ship, difficultj"-, and danger, his agitated feelings overcame his usual self-command. Every man arose with eyes turned towards him. Filling a glass of wine, and lifting it to his lips, he rested his benignant but sad- dened countenance upon them, and said, — "With a heart full of love and grati- tude, I now take leave of you. I most de- voutly wish that j'our latter days may be as prosperous as your former ones have been honorable and glorious." Having drunk, he added, " I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged to you, if each of you will come and take me by the hand." A profound silence followed, as each officer gazed on the countenance of their leader, while the eyes of all were wet with tears. He then expressed again his desire that each of them should come and take him by the hand. The first, being nearest to him, was General Knox, who grasped his hand in silence, and both embraced each other without uttering a word. One after an- other followed, receiving and returning the affectionate adieu of their commander, after which he left the room in silence, followed by his officers in procession, to embark in the barge that was to convey him to Paulus's Hook, now Jersey City. As he was passing through the light in- fantry drawn up on either side to receive him, an old soldier, who was by his side on the terrible night of his march to Trenton, stepped out from the ranks, and reaching out his arms, exclaimed, " Fare- well, viy dear (jeneral, farewell! " Wash- ington seized his hand most heartily, when 68 ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. the soldiers forgot all discipline, rushed towards their chief, and bathed him with their tears. The scene was like that of a good patriarch taking leave of his children, and going on a long journe}', from whence he might return no more. Having entered the barge, he turned to the weeping company upon the wharf, and waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu. They stood with heads uncovered, until the barge was hidden from their view, when, in silent and solemn procession, they returned to the place where they had as- sembled. Congress was at this time in session at Annapolis, Maryland, to which place Washington now proceeded, greeted along his whole route with enthusiastic homage, for the purpose of formally resign- ing his commission. He arrived on the nineteenth of December, 1783, and the next day he informed congress of the pur- pose for which he had come, and requested to know whether it would be their pleas- ure that he should offer his resignation in writing, or at an audience. A committee was appointed by congress, and it was de- cided that on Tuesday, December twenty- third, the ceremonial should take place as follows : — The president and members are to be seated and covered, and the secretary to be standing by the side of the president ; the arrival of the general to be announced by the messenger to the secretary, who is thereupon to introduce the general, at- tended by his aids, into the hall of con- gress ; the general, being conducted to a chair by the secretary, is to be seated, with an aid on each side standing, and the secretary is to resume his place. After a proper time for the arrangement of spec- tators, silence is to be ordered bj' the sec- retary, if necessary-, and the president is to address the general in the following words : " Sir, — The United States in con- gress assembled are prepared to receive your communications." Whereupon the gen- eral is to arise and address congress ; after which he is to deliver his commission and a copy of his address to the president. The general having resumed his place, the president is to deliver the answer of con- gress, which the general is to receive standing; the president having finished, the secretary is to deliver the general a copy of the answer, and the general is then to take his leave. When the general rises to make his address, and also when he retires, he is to bow to congress, which they are to return by uncovering without bowing. AYhen the hour arrived, the president. General Mifilin, informed him that that body was prepared to receive his commu- nications. With a native dignity, height- ened by the solemnity of the occasion, the general rose. In a brief and appropriate speech he offered his congratulations on the termination of the war, and having alluded to his object in appearing thus in that presence, — that he might resign into the hands of congress the trust committed to him, and claim the indulgence of retir- ing from the public ser\'ice, — he concluded with those affecting words, which drew tears from the eyes of all in that vast as- sembly : " I consider it an indispensable duty to close this last act of my official life, by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintend- ence of them, to his holy keeping. Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the theater of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of juiblic life." After advancing to the chair, and deliv- ering his commission to the president, he returned to his place, and remained stand- ing, while General Mifilin replied, review- ing the great career thus brought to a close, and saj'ing, in conclusion : " The glory of your virtues will not ter- minate with your military command ; it will continue to animate the remotest ages. We join with you in commending the in- terests of our country to Almighty God, beseeching Him to dispose the hearts and ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 69 minds of its citizens to improve the op- portunity afforded them of becoming a happy and respectable nation. And for you, we address to Him our warm- est prayers, that a life so beloved may be fostered with all His care, that your days may be as happy as they have been illustrious, and that He will finally give you that reward which this world cannot bestow." VII. APPOINTMENT OF THE FIRST MINISTER PLENIPOTEN- TIARY, FROM THE NEW REPUBLIC TO THE ENGLISH COURT.— 1785. Jolin AiKims, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and tlie Fi)remost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills this High Office — Interview between Ilim and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Addresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly Matched Against Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed — Mutual Charges of False Dealing. — Settlement Demanded by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved — Dismemberment of the British Kealm. Loss of the Fairest Possession. — Bitter Pill for the King. — His Obstinacy Forced to Yield. — Humilia- tion of the Proud Monarch. — All Europe Watches the Event. — Mr. Adams Presented at Court. — Pa- triot and King Face to Face. — Official Address by the Minister. — Reply of King George. — His Visi- ible Agitation. — Adams's Presence of Mind. — Pays Ilia Homage to the Queen — Her Majesty's Re- sponse — Civilities by the Royal Family. — Results of this Embassy. — Pitiable Position of George the Third. — Fatal Error of Great Britain. •• I muBt avow to your majesty, I have do attachment but to my own country."— Joaw Adaus to Kino Qeoroe. " An honeat mm will have no other." — Tub Ki.va'3 Instant Replt. O deep-seated and festering were the old animosities between Amer- . ica and tlio mother country, that, scarcely had the war of the revo- ^ lution terminated, when the two nations reciprocally charged each other with violating the treaty of i peace. The United States were accused of having infringed those articles which contained agree- ments respecting the payment of debts, the confiscation of property, and prosecution of individuals for the part taken by them during the war. On the other hand, the English were charged with violating that article which stijjulated against the destruction or carrying away of any description of American property; the king was also complained of, for still retaining possession of the posts on the American side of the great lakes, thus influencing the Indian tribes to hostility ; and, above all other sources and causes of complaint, iu the conduct of Great Britain, was her rigorous and restrictive commercial system. These growing misunderstandings between the two countries, discussed with such angry vehemence on both sides, threatened such serious consequences should their adjust- ment be much longer delayed, that congress determined ujjon the important step of AillTV l,ErWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. FIRST MDSriSTEE, TO ENGLAND. 71 appointing, after tlie manner of independ- ent nations, a Minister Pleyiipotentianj to the court of Great Britain ! In February, 1785, John Adams was duly accredited ambassador, to rejjresent the United States at that court. That George the Third was as obstinate It man as ever ruled a kingdom, no histo lian has ever questioned. Having struck at the rights and liberties of America, in order to add to the riches of his coffers, nothing could turn him from his determin- ation to rule, or to ruin and destroy. To the suggestion that the king's rule over the colonies might be slightly softened or modified. Lord North despairingly replied : " It is to no purpose the making objec- tions, for the king will have it so." But in no more forcible phrase could the king's arbitrary' temper concerning his colonies te shown, that in that which fell from his own lips, in the presence of the new en- voy, namel}-, "I ivas the last man in the kingdom, sir, to consent to the indejyend- ence of America." Of all the opponents of British misrule, in the western world, John Adams was the earliest, ablest, most intrepid and un- tiring. It was John Adams, who, in 177.5, in the memorable continental con- gress, at riiiladelphia, suggested George AVashingtou as commander-in-chief of the army that was to wage war against Great Britain — and, even before this crowning act, had sent across the Atlantic, ringing into the ears of the haughty monarch, the epithets tyrant and usiuyer. The kingly ceremony of acknowledging the colonies independent took place, in con- formity with previous arrangements, on the fifth of December, 1782, in the house of lords. The scene was one which drew together an immense and won- dering crowd of spectators, conspicu- ous among whom was the celebrated admiral Lord Howe, who had just re- turned from a successful relief of Gibraltar, and who had now elbowed himself exactly in front of the throne, to listen, sadly, to his country's hu- miliation. The ladies of the nobility occupied the lords' seats on the wool- sacks, so called, as an emblem of the power and wealth of old England, because it had been mainly derived from wool. The lords were standing here and there promiscuously. It was a dark and foggj' day, and the windows being elevated and con- structed in the antiquated stj'le, with leaden bars to contain the diamond- cut panes of glass, augmented the gloom. The walls were also hung with dark tapestry, representing the de- feat of the great Spanish armada. The celebrated American painters, West and Copley, were in the throng, with some American ladies, also a number of dejected- looking American roj'alists. After a tedious suspense of nearly two hours, the approach of the king was announced by a tremendous roar of artillery. He entered by a small door on the left of the throne, and immediately seated himself in the chair of state, in a graceful attitude, with his right foot resting on a stool. He was clothed in the magnificent robes of British majesty. Evidently agitated, he drew slowly from his pocket a scroll containing his humbling speech. The commons were 72 FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. summoned, and, after the bustle of their entrance had subsided, the thrilling mo- ment arrived, when the speech was to be read. After some general remarks, usual on public occasions, he said : *• I lost no time in giving the necessary orders to prohibit the further prosecution of offensive war upon the continent of North America. Adopting, as my inclin- ation will always lead me to do, with de- cision and effect, whatever I collect to be the sense of my parliament and my people, I have pointed all my views and measures, in Europe, as in North America, to an entire and cordial reconciliation with the colonies. Finding it indispensable to the attainment of this object, I did not hesi- tate to go to the full length of the power vested in me, and therefore I now declare them " — here he paused, in evident agita- tion, either embarrassed in reading his speech, by the darkness of the room, or affected by a very natural emotion, but, recovering himself in a moment by a strong convulsive movement, he added — '^ free and independent states. In thus admitting their separation from the crown of this kingdom, I have sacrificed every consideration of my own, to the wishes and opinions of my people. I make it my humble and ardent prayer to Almighty God, that Great Britain may not feel the evils which might result from so great a dismemberment of the empire, and that America may be free from the calamities which have formerly proved, in the mother country, how essential monarchy is to the enjoyment of constitutional liberty. Re- ligion, language, interests, and affection may, and I hope will, yet prove a bond of permanent union between the two coun- tries." It was universally remarked of King George, that, though celebrated for read- ing his speeches in a distinct, composed, and impressive manner, he was on this occasion painfully lacking in his usual self-possession ; he hesitated, choked, and executed the high but humbling duties of the occasion, in a manner which showed that he was deeply mortified. Mr. Adams was at Paris when he re- ceived information of his appointment, in 1785, to confront his late king and roj-al master. In an account given by Mr. Adams himself, of his movements at this time, he saj's : At Versailles, the Count de Vergennes said he had man}' felicita- tions to give me upon my appointment to England. I answered that I did not know but it merited compassion more than felicitation. " Aj', why ? " " Because, aa j'ou know, it is a species of degradation, in the eyes of Europe, after having been ac- credited to the king of France, to be sent to any other court." " But permit me to say," replies the count, "it is a great thing to he the first ambassador from your country to the country you sj)ra7tg from. It is a mark." One of the foreign ambassadors said to me — " You have been often in England." " Never, but once in November and De- cember, 1783." " You have relations in England, no doubt." " None at all." " None, how can that be ? you are of English extraction." "Neither my father or mother, grand- father or grandmother, great grandfather or great grandmother, nor any other rela- tion that I know of, or care a farthing for, has been in England these one hundred and fifty years ; so that you see I have not one drop of blood in my veins but what is American." " Ay, we have seen j)roof enough of that." In the month of Maj-, Mr. Adams trans- ferred himself and family to the other side of the channel, prepared to undertake the new duties to which he had been ajn pointed. The first thing to be done was to go through the ceremony of presenta- tion to the sovereign ; to stand face to face with the man whom he had for the first forty years of his life habitually regarded as his master, and who never ceased to regard him, and the rest of his country- men, as no better than successful rebels FIEST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 73 against his legitimate authority. In his dispatch to Mr. Jay, then American secre- tary of foreign affairs, Mr. Adams gave the following very interesting account of this meeting : — At one o"clock on Wednesday, the first of June, 1785, the master of ceremonies called at my house, and went with me to the secretary of state's office, in Cleveland Eow, where the Marquis of Carmarthen received and introduced me to Mr. Frazier, his under secretary, who had been, as his attended by the master of ceremonies, the room was very full of ministers of state, bishops, and all other sorts of courtiers, as well as the next room, which is the king's bed-chamber. You may well suppose I was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved, however, from the embarrassment of it, by the Swedish and Dutch ministers, who came to me and entertained me with a verj- agreeable conversation during the whole time. Some other gentlemen, whom I had seen before, came to make their com- jMilN Al'A.MS lordship said, uninterruptedly in that office, through all the changes in administration, for thirty years. After a short conversa- tion, Lord Carmarthen invited me to go with him in his coach to court. When we arrived in the ante-chamber, the master of ceremonies introduced him, and attended me while the secretary' of state went to take the commands of the king. AVliile I stood in this place, where it seems all min- isters stand upon such occasions, always pliments to me, until the Marquis of Car- marthen returned and desired me to go with, him to his majesty. I went with his lordship through the levee room into the king's closet. The door was shut, and I was left with his majesty and the secretary of state alone. I made the three rever- ences : one at the door, another about half- way, and another before the presence, according to the usage established at this and all the northern courts of Europe, and 74 FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. then I addressed myself to his majesty in the following words : "Sire: The United States have ap- pointed me minister plenipotentiary to your majesty, and have directed me to deliver to your majesty this letter, which contains the evidence of it. It is in obe- dience to their express commands, that I have the honor to assure 3''our majesty of their unanimous disposition and desire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal in- tercourse between your majesty's subjects and their citizens, and of their best wishes for your majesty's health and happiness, and for that of your family. The appointment of a minister from the United States to your majesty's court will form an epoch in the history of England and America. I think myself more fortu- nate than all my fellow-citizens, in having the distinguished honor to be the first to stand in j'our majesty's royal presence in a diplomatic character, and I shall esteem myself the happiest of men, if I can be instrumental in recommending my country more and more to your majesty's royal benevolence, and of restoring an entire esteem, confidence, and affection ; or, in better words, ' the old good nature and the good old humor,' between people who, though separated by an ocean, and under different governments, have the same lan- guage, a similar religion, a kindred blood. I beg your majesty's permission to add, that, although I have sometimes before been instructed by my country, it was never in my whole life in a manner so agreeable to myself." The king listened to every word I said, with dignity, it is true, but with apparent emotion. Whether it was my visible agi- tation, for I felt more than I could ex- press, that touched him, I cannot say; but he was much affected, and answered me with more tremor than I had spoken with, and said — " SiE : The circumstances of this audi- ence are so extraordinary, the language j-ou have now held is so extremely proper, and the feelings you have discovered so justly adapted to the occasion, that I not only receive with pleasure the assurance of the friendly disposition of the United States, but I am glad the choice has fallen upon you to be their minister. I wish j'ou, sir, to believe, that it may be understood in America, that I have done nothing in the late contest but what I thought myself indispensably bound to do, by the duty which I owed my people. I will be frank with you. I was the last to conform to the separation ; but the separation having become inevitable, I have always said, as I now say, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power. The moment I see such sentiments and language as yours prevail, and a disposition to give this country the preference, that moment I shall say, let the circumstances of lan- guage, religion, and blood, have their nat- ural, full effect." The king then asked me whether I came last from France ; upon my answer- ing in the afiirmative, he put on an air of familiarity, and, smiling, or rather laugh- ing, said — " There is an opinion among some peo- ple that you are not the most attached of all your countrymen to the manners of France." " That opinion, sir, is not mistaken ; I must avow to your majesty, I have no at' tachment but to my own country." The king replied as quick as lightning — FIEST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 75 "All honest man will have no other." The king then said a word or two to the secretary of state, which, being be- tween them, I did not hear, and then turned round and bowed to me, as is customary with all kings and princes when they give the signal to retire. I retreated, stepping backwards, as is the etiquette, and making my last reverence at the door of the chamber. Mr. Adams was yet to pay his first court of homage to the queen. He was presented to her on the ninth of June, by Lord Allesbury, her lord-chamber- lain, — having first been attended to his lordship and introduced to him by the master of the ceremonies. The queen was accompanied by her ladies-in-wait- ing, and Mr. Adams made his compli- ments to her majesty in the following words : " Madam, — Among the many circum- stances which have rendered my mission to his majesty desirable to me, I have ever considered it a principal one, that I should have an opportunity of paying my court to a great queen, whose royal virtues and talents have ever been ac- knowledged and admired in America, as well as in all the nations of Europe, as an example to princesses and the glory of her sex. Permit me, madam, to recommend to your majesty's royal goodness a rising em- pire and an infant virgin world. Another Europe, madam, is rising in America. To a philosophical mind, like your majesty's, there cannot be a more pleasing contemplation, than the prospect of doubling the human species, and aug- menting, at the same time, their prosper- ity and happiness. It will, in future ages, be the glory of these kingdoms to have peopled that country, and to have sown there those seeds of science, of liberty, of virtue, and permit me, madam, to add, of piety, which alone constitute the prosper- ity of nations .and the happiness of the human race. After venturing upon such high insinu- ations to your majesty, it seems to ba descending too far, to ask, as I do, your majesty's royal indulgence to a person who is indeed unqualified for courts, and who owes his elevation to this distinguished honor of standing before jour majesty, not to any circumstances of illustrious birth, fortune, or abilities, but merely to an ardent devotion to his native country, and some little industry and perseverance in her service." To this address of Mr. Adams, the queen answered, in the accustomed royal brevity, as follows : " I thank you, sir, for your civilities to me and my family, and am glad to see you in this country." The queen then asked Mr. Adams if he had provided himself with a house, to which question answer was made that he had agreed for one that morning. She then made her courtesy, and the envoy made his reverence, retiring at once into the drawing-room, where the king, queen, princess royal, and the younger princess, her sister, all spoke to the new minister very courteously. But, notwithstanding the memorable historical bearings of this mission of the great American statesman, as first ambas- sador of the new-born republic, to his late august sovereign, — a mission which riveted the attention of the civilized world, — and although George the Third had submitted with dignity to the painful necessity of such a meeting, the embassy was attended with no permanently favorable result either to America or to Mr. Adams. Indeed, of the many humiliations which befell the unhappy George, perhaps few were felt so bitterly as this almost compulsory inter- view with the representative of a people, once his subjects, afterwards rebels, and now free. Well and truthfully has the historian said, that, in the conduct of the king, on this occasion, the obvious wisdom of conciliating the young and rising nation on the western side of the Atlantic was forgotten, and the error of supercilious neglect was preferred. Throughout the whole political history of Great Britain 76 FIKST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. this marked fault may be traced in its relations with foreign nations, but it never showed itself in more striking col- ors than during the first half century after the independence of the United States. The effects of the mistake then committed have been perceptible ever since. VIII. FORMATIOiSr AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTI- TUTION.— 1787. The United States no Longer a People Witliout a Government. — Establishment of the Republic on a Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity, Learning, and Elo- quence of the Delegates. — Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrument. — Extraordinary Character of the Whole Transaction. — State of Things After the War. — Financial Embarrassment — Despondency of the People. — Grave Crisis in Public Affairs. — A Grand Movement Initiated. — Plan of Government to be Framed. — All the States in Convention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages in Council. — The Old Compact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Dis- cussed.— Jealousy of the Smaller States. — Angry Debates, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the Convention — Its Dissolution Imminent — Franklin's Impressive Appeal. — Compromise and Concilia- tion — Final System Agreed Upon. — Patriotism Rules all Hearts. — Ratification by the States. — Na- tional Joy at the Decision. " Should the states reject this excellent Conltitution, the probability U that an opportunity will never again be offered to cancel another in peace— the next will be drown in blood."— Reuakk or Washinotox oir SiosiMO thb Constitution. EXBOLLINQ THE CONSTITOTIOS. Si^ HOUGH the close of the *• war of independence resulted in the establish- ment of a free national- it}', it nevertheless brought anxious solici- tude to every patriot's mind, and this state of apprehension and disqui- etude increased with each succeeding year. The state debts which had been incurred in anticipation of prosperous times, operated severel}^, after a while, on all classes in the community; to meet the pajinent of these debts, at maturity, was impossible, and every relief-act only added to the difficulty. This, and kindred troubles, financial and governmental, impressed the people with the gloomy conviction that the great work of independence, as contemplated in the revolutionary struggle, was only half done. It was felt that, above all things, a definite and organic form of government — reflecting the will of the people — should be fixed upon, to give energy to national power, and success to individual and public enterprise. So portentous a crisis as this formed another epoch for the display of the intellectual and political attainments of American statesmen, and the ordeal was one through which they passed with the highest honor, and with ever-enduring fame, at home and abroad. New men appeared on the stage of legislative council and action, and it was found that the quan- 78 FOEMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. tity of talent and information necessary in the formation period of a new rejJiiblic had greatly increased in the various states. But, in especial, the great minds that achieved the revolution beheld with deep concern their country impoverished and distracted at home, and of no considera- tion among the family of nations. A change was now to be wrought, the grandeur of which would be acknowledged throughout all lands, and its importance reach forward to the setting of the sun of time. The same hall which had resounded with words of patriotic defiance tliat shook the throne of King George and proclaimed to an astonished world flie Declaration of Independence, — that same hall in which congress had continued to sit during the greater part of the momentous period in- tervening, — in the state house at Phila- delphia, was soon to witness the assem- bling of such a body of men as, in point of intellectual talent, personal integrity, and loft}' purpose, had perhaps never before been brought together. The curious stu- dent of this page in modern history has sometimes plausibly but speciously attrib- uted to mere chance — instead of to that Providence which rules in the affairs of men — this timely and grand event. Thus, General Washington, having contemplated with great interest a plan for uniting the Potomac and the Ohio rivers, and by this means connecting the eastern and western waters, made a journey of six hundred and eighty miles on horseback, taking minute notes of everj'thing which could be subserv- ient to this project. His influence, and the real imjsortance pf the design, induced the legislatures of Virginia and Marjdand to send commissioners to Alexandria to deliberate on the subject. They met in March, 1785, and having spent some time at Mount Vernon, determined to recom- mend another commission, which might establish a general tariff on imports. The Virginia legislature not only agreed, but invited the other states to send deputies to meet at Annapolis. In September, 1786, they had arrived from five only, and with too limited powers. A number of able statesmen, however, were thus assem- bled, who, feeling deeply the depressed and distracted state of the country, became sensible that something on a much greater scale was necessary to raise her to pros- perity, and give her a due place among the nations. They therefore drew up a report and address to all the states, strongly representing the inefficiency of the present federal government, and earn- estly urging them to send delegates to meet at Philadelphia in May, 1787. Con- gress responded to this proceeding in Feb- ruary, by the passage of resolutions rec- ommending the proposed measure, — but of which, perhaj)s, they did not then contem- plate all the momentous results. On the day appointed for the meeting of the convention. May fourteenth, 1787, only a small number of the delegates had arrived in Philadelphia. The delibera- tions did not commence, therefore, until May twenty-fifth, when there were pres- ent twenty-nine members, representing nine states. Others soon after came in, till the whole number amounted to fifty- five. Never, perhaps, had any body of men combined for so great a purpose — to form a constitution which was to rule so numerous a people, and probably during so many generations. The members, con- sisting of the very ablest men in America, were not unworthy of, nor unequal to, so high a trust. Towering above all these men of might, in his world-wide fame and in the genius of his personal ascendency, was Washing- ton, intrusted by the commonwealth of Virginia with the work of cementing to- gether the sisterhood of states in one in- dissoluble bond of mutual interest, co-ope- ration, and renown. And there was Kufus King, from Massachusetts, young in years, but mature in wisdom and brilliant in ora- tory; Langdon, from New Hampshire, strong in his understanding and readily mastering the most intricate details ; El- bridge Gerry, of Massachusetts, exhibiting the utmost zeal and fidelity in the per- formance of his official duties; Caleb Strong, from the same state, plain in his FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 79 COXVEXTIOX AT PHILADELPHIA, 1TS7 appearance, but calm, firm, intelligent, and well-balanced ; Ellsworth, from Connecti- cut, elegant in his manners, and distin- guished for his energy of mind, clear reasoning powers, and effective eloquence ; Sherman, his colleague, a statesman and jurist whose fame has extended far beyond the western world; Hamilton, from New York, spare and fragile in person, but keen, active, laborious, transcendent in his abilities and of unsullied integrity; Livingston, from New Jersey, of scholarly tastes, uncompromisingly republican in his politics, and fearless in the expression of his opinions ; Franklin, from Pennsylvania, one of the profoundest philosophers in the world, and, though now rising of four- score years, capable of grasping and throw- ing light upon the most recondite ques- tions relating to the science of govern- ment ; Robert Morris, from Pennsylvania, the great financier, of whom it has been said, and witli much truth, that 'the Americans owed, and still owe, as mucli acknowledgment to the financial operations of Robert Morris, as to the negotiations of Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms of George Washington ; ' Gouverneur IMorris, from the same state, conspicuous for his accomplishments in learning, his fluent conversation, and sterling abilities in debate ; Clymer, distinguished among the sons of Pennsylvania, as one of the first to raise a defiant voice against the arbitrary acts of the mother country ; Mifflin, another delegate from the land of Penn, ardent almost beyond discretion, in zeal for his country's rights and liberties ; Dickinson, from New Jersey, a patriot, who, though the only member of the con- tinental congress opposed to the Declara- tion of Independence, on the ground of its being premature, was nevertheless the only member of that body who immediately shouldered his musket and went forth to face the enemy ; Wj'the, from Virginia, wise, grave, deeply versed in the law, and undaunted in the defense of liberty for the the people; Madison, also from Virginia, talented, thoughtful, penetrating, one of the brightest ornaments of his state and nation; Martin, from Maryland, a jurist 80 FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. of vast attainments and commanding powers; Davie, from Nortli Carolina, of splendid physique, one of the master-minds of the country ; Rutledge, from South Car- olina«, pronounced by Washington to be the finest orator in the continental con- gress; Pinckne}^, from the same state, a soldier and lawyer of vmrivaled abili- ties; — and thus the record might go on, until it embraced all the names of this eminent assemblage of America's noblest patriots and most illustrious historic char- acters, " all, all, honorable men." On proceeding with the organization of the convention, George Wasliington was nominated by Robert Morris to jjreside over its deliberations, and was unanimously elected. The standing rules were then adopted, one of these being that nothing spoken in the house be printed or other- wise published, or made known in any manner, without special permission. And in this connection, the following little epi- sode, which lias come to light, will doubt- less be read as a refreshing reminiscence of the "secret" doings among those grave old worthies : One of the members of the Georgia del- egation was Mr. , a gentleman, the zeal of whose legislative mind and efforts sometimes quite ate up his attention to mere extraneous matters. Like all the rest of his associates in the assembly, he had been furnished with a schedule of the principal points of debate, or subjects of consideration, which were to be brought before the convention as constituting its business, and, in accordance with the par- liamentary usage of secrecy, this pro- gramme of the convention's duties and deliberations was with especial care to be kept from disclosure during the period of its sittings. It happened, liowever, that one of the delegates unfortunately lost his copy of this official schedule or orders of the day. General MitHin, one of the del- egates from Pennsylvania, bj' good chance discovered the stray document, and, ex- plaining the circumstances to Washing- ton, placed it in the latter's hands, who, in silence and gravity, deposited it among his own papers. At the close of that day's proceedings, and just previously to the convention's rising, Washington, as pre- siding officer, called the attention of the assembly to the matter in question, in the following characteristic remarks : " Gentlemen, I am sorry to find that some one member of this bod3- has been so neglectful of the secrets of this convention, as to drop in the state house a cop}' of their proceedings — which, by accident, was picked up and delivered to me this morn- ing. I must entreat gentlemen to be more careful, lest our transactions get into the newspapers, and disturb the public repose by premature speculations. I know not whose paper it is, but there it is (throwing it down on the table) ; let him who owns it take it." But to proceed with the historical sketch of this most august body of modern legislators. They had been appointed merely with a view to the revision or improvement of the old articles of confederation, which still held them precariously together as a na- tion ; yet they had not deliberated long, when they determined that the existing compact or system of government must be swept awaj'. The question, however, as to what should be substituted in its place, was one of extreme difficulty. Mr. Randolph, of Virginia, opened the great discussion by a speech in which he laid bare the defects of the confederation, and then submitted a series of resolutions embod3'ing the sub- stance of a plan of government — the same, in character, as that contained in letters written by ^Ir. Madison to Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Randolph, and General Washington, a few months previous. The plan in question proposed the form- ation of a general government, consti- tuted as follows : The national legislature to consist of two branches — the members of the first branch to be elected by the people of the several states, and the members of the second branch to be elected by the first branch, out of a proper number nominated by the state legislatures; the national legislature to have a negative on FOEMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 81 all the state laws contravening the articles of union, and to have power to legislate in all cases where the states were incompe- tent ; the right of suffrage in the legisla^ ture to be jjroportioned to the quota of contribution, or to the number of free in- liabitants ; a national executive to be chosen by the national legislature ; a na- tional judiciary, to consist of one or more supreme tribunals and inferior ones, the judges to be chosen by the national legis- lature ; the executive, and a convenient number of the national judiciary, to com- WW: FltAXKLlN FLEADIKG FOR PACIFICATION. pose a council of revision to examine every act of the national legislature before it should operate, and every act of a particu- lar legislature before a negative thereon should be final ; provision to be made for the admission of new states to the Union ; a republican form of government to be administered in each state ; provision to be made for amendments to the articles of union ; the legislative, executive, and judi- ciary powers, or officials, of the several states, to be bound by oath to support the articles of union. (i A good degree of favor was shown to Mr. Kandolph's plan, but not sufficient to prevent other projects, conspicuous among these being one by Mr. Patterson, of New Jersey, and another by Alexander Hamil- ton, from being brought forward and urged by their respective friends, — all of these being republican in their general features, but differing in their details. For some da3-s, angry debates occurred which, but for the tlmehj and healiny wisdom of Dr. Franklm, the Mentor of the convention, would have ended in the breaking up of the body. As soon as there was an opening for him to speak, the doctor rose, and in a most impressive manner, said, among ether things : " It is to be feared that the mem- bers of this convention are not in a temper, at this moment, to approach the subject on which we differ, in a candid spirit. I would therefore propose, Mr. President, that, without proceeding further in this business at this time, the convention shall adjourn for three daj'S, in order to let the present ferment pass off, and to afford time for a more full, free, and dispassionate investigation of the subject ; and I would earnestly rec- ommend to the members of this con- ^ vention, that they spend the time of this recess, not in associating with their own part}', and devising new arguments to fortify themselves in their ol gress from Connecticut, speaking of the new city on his arrival there, sa\s : ' I can not sufiiciently express my admiration of its local position.' It was at this session that formal recog- nition was made of the great national event of the founding and establishment of the national capital, by mutual congrat- ulatory addresses between the chief mag- istrate of the rei^ublic on the one part, and the senate and house of representatives on the other. A more beautiful site for a large city could scarcel3' have been selected. On a level plain some three miles in length, and varying from a quarter to two miles wide, and extending from the banks of the Potomac to a range of hills bounding the plain on the east, the new city was laid out. The idea of General Washington was that the capitol should be the center of the citj', and that avenues should radi- ate from it at equi-distant points. To complete his plan, the metropolis should have a million of inhabitants, instead of FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 117 its present very moderate fraction of tliat number. Though not a seven-hilled city, Washington has, as well as Rome, its Ca- pitoline Hill, commanding views scarcely NAri'>NAI less striking than those of the Eternal Citj'. The general altitude of the citj'- plot is forty feet above the river, but this is diversified by irregular elevations, which serve to give variety and commanding sites for the public buildings. The plot is slightly amphitheatrical, the president's house on the west standing on one of the sides, and the capitol on the other, while the space between verges towards a point near the river. The president's house and the capitol stand centrally with regard to the whole, though situated at the distance of one mile from each other, tlie former forty-four feet above the Poto- mac, and the latter seventy-two feet. All the public buildings are on a scale of mag- nificence worthy of a great nation ; and the munificence of congress in this respect, as well as in regard to all that pertains to the city, as the seat of government of the United States, is evident on every side. This is as it should be, and betokens the destined splendor, in point of architecture, avenues and parks, institutions of art, science and education, of the federal cap- ital. Starting from the capitol, the streets run from north to south and from east to west, their width varying from ninety to one hundred and ten feet. There are be- side twenty avenues, named after the older states of the Union, wliich cross the streets at various angles and connect the most important points of the city, forming at their intersection with the streets and with each other numerous open spaces. These grand avenues are from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and sixty feet uni- form width ; the principal of these is called in honor of the state of Pennsylvania, and extends from Georgetown to the Anacostia, a distance of four miles. It forms the main avenue of communication between the capitol and the presi- dent's house and the chief offices of government. The capitol com- mands Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maine, and Missouri avenues ; the president's house, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, and Connecticut avenues. The effect of this arrangement, taken in connection with the natural advantages of the site, is exceedingly fine — one of the finest in the world, for a city. From the hill, in especial, on which stands the capitol, the ByilBOLIC STATUE OF AMtKICA aUKMOUNTINQ THE U. S. CAPITOL. most noble view presents itself to the eye of the beholder that the imagination can conceive. On the fourth of July, 1851, 118 FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. the corner-stone of that magnifieent ex- tension of the capitol which has rendered it the most superb structure of its kind in the world, was laid with splendid ceremo- nial, including a commemorative oration by President Fillmore, assisted by Daniel Webster, secretary of state. In the stone was also deposited a record of the event, with the following impressive statement and invocation : — " If, therefore, it shall be hereafter the will of God that this structure shall fall from its base, that its foundation be up- turned, and this deposit brought to the eyes of men, be it then known that on this day the union of the United States of America stands firm, that their Constitu- tion still exists unimpaired and with all its original usefulness and glory, growing every day stronger and stronger in the affections of the great body of the Amer- ican people, and attracting more and more the admiration of the world. And all here assembled, whether belonging to public life or to private life, with hearts devoutly thankful to Almighty God for the preservation of the liberty and hapf)i- ness of the country, unite in sincere and fervent prayer that this deposit, and the walls and arches, the domes and towers, the columns and entablatures, now to be erected over it, may endure forever ! God Save the United States of America ! " XIV. DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— 1799. His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words — Fortitude and Serenity Through all His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The Whole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame. —He Anticipated an Early Death.— His Invariably Good Health —E.xposure in a Snow-Storm — Takes a Fatal Cold.— Last Letter Written by His Hand.— Re.ads the Papers in the Evening.— Char- acteristic Reply to His Wife.— Passes a Restless Night— Alarming Condition the Next Day.— Medi- cal Treatment of no Avail.— Calls for His Two Wills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside. --- —Last Words, "'Tis Well!"— Only One Day's Sickness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel — Last Page in His Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His Remains. "Posterity will talk of WnshiTirton with revprence. as the founder of a (Treat empire, when my name ehull be lost in the vortex of reToIution.'-NAPOLEOji IJo- NAPAETE. 'ASIIIXGTON is dead ! " were the appalling words which, with the fading out of the eighteenth century, brought home to eveiy American heart the solemn lesson of the flight of time, and that " all men are mortal." Totally unprepared as was his idolizing country for such an event, — no intelligence of the slightest illness of the great chieftain having preceded the bald announcement of his death and burial, — the tidings moved the nation's heart to profound amazement and sorrow, and deep an- swered unto deep, in the universal wail of a bereaved and stricken republic. If a nation's pra}-ers could have prevailed, Washington — Columbia's most honored, venerated, and renowned son, — would have been immortal on earth. But the ordinance of divine wisdom is, that the great boon of immortality shall be attained by man only through the portals of the grave, and to this decree the illustrious and the humble are alike sub- ject. Thus it was that Washington, the great Christian warrior and statesman — the greatest of good men and the best of great men — paid the debt of nature when he had scarcely reached the allotted period of three-score j'ears and ten. The last end of so illustrious a personage as Washington, is fraught with an interest so profound and memorable, as never to lose its freshness and value to successive generations. It appeared to be the will of heaven that, so soon as the circum- stances of his country enabled it to dispense with the services of the man who, above all others, was its founder and leading head, he should be summoned away from the scenes of earth. That he was one who was accustomed to consider the brevity of life and the uncertainty of human affairs, is evident from the tenor of his conduct and conversation, and from occasional passages in his correspondence. Thus, to the Hon. James M'Henrj^, secretary of war, he wrote, but a few months prior to his decease : " My greatest anxiety is to have all these concerns in such a clear and distinct 120 DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. forra, that no reproach may attach itself to me when I have taken my departure for the land of spirits." He had also been making arrangements, just before the at- tack of illness which terminated in his death, for the construction of an improved family tomb, and in speaking of his plans to a relative at his side, he remarked, •' This change, I sliall make the first of all, for I may require it before the rest." He had also been heard to say, "I am of a short-lived family, and cannot expect to remain very long upon the earth." The month of December, 1799, found him in the enjoj'ment of excellent health. Indeed, Major Lewis, his nephew, writing of him as he appeared to himself and a friend at that time, says, " The clear and healthy flush on his cheek and his sprightly manner brought the remark from both of us, that we had never seen the general look so well." On the tenth of December, he completed the draught of an elaborate plan for the management of his lands, laying down the rotation of the crops for a succession of years in advance. The morning of that day was clear and calm, but the afternoon was lowering. The next daj', the eleventh, was bluster- ing and rainy ; and at night, as AVashing- ton recorded in his diary, "there was a large circle round the moon." The morn- ing of the twelfth was overcast. Wash- ington's last letter was written that morning — it was to Hamilton, and princi- pally on the subject of a military academy. The events of that day, and of the two days following, are most minutely narrated by an eye-witness — Mr. Tobias Lear, — who was Washington's private secretary as well as valued friend ; and with Mr. Lear's statement, are incorporated some facts from the pen of Washington's favor- ite kinsman, Mr. Custis : — On Thursday, December twelfth, the general rode out to his farms about ten o'clock, and did not return home till jiast three. Soon after he went out, the weather became very bad, rain, hail, snow falling alternately, with a cold wind. When he came in, I carried some letters to -him to frank, intending to send them to the post- office in the evening. He franked the letters, but said the weather was too bad to send a servant to the office that even- ing. I observed to him, that I was afraid he had got wet. He said, No, his great coat had kept him dry. But his neck ap- peared to be wet, and the snow was hanging upon his hair. He came to din- ner, which had been waiting for him, without changing his dress. In the even- ing he appeared as well as usual. A heavy fall of snow took place on Friday, which prevented the general from riding out as usual. He had taken cold, undoubtedly fram being so much exposed the day before, and complained of a sore throat. He, however, went out in the afternoon into the ground between the house and the river to mark some trees, which were to be cut down in the improve- ment of that spot. As was usual with him, he carried his own compass, noted his observations, and marked the ground. He had a hoarseness, which increased in the evening, but he made light of it. Between two and three o'clock, on Sat- urday morning, December fourteenth, he awoke Mrs. Washington, and told her that he was ^ery unwell, and had had an ague. She observed that he could scarcely speak, and breathed with difficulty, and would have got up to call a servant. But he would not permit her, lest she should take a cold. As soon as the day appeared, the DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 121 woman (Caroline) went into the room to make a fire, and Mrs. Washington sent her immediately to call me. I got up, put on my clothes as quickly as possible, and went to his chamber. Mrs. Washing- ton was then up, and related to me his beinsr ill as before stated. I found the general breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. He desired Mr. Rawlins (one of the over- seers) might be sent for, to bleed him be- fore the doctor could arrive. I dispatched a servant instantly for Rawlins, and an- other for Dr. Craik, and returned again to the general's chamber, where I found him in the same situation as I had left him. A mixture of molasses, vinegar, and butter, was prepared, to try its effects in the throat; but he could not swallow a drop. Whenever he attempted it, he ap- peared to be distressed, convulsed, and al- most suffocated. Rawlins came in soon after sunrise, and prepared to bleed him. When the arm was ready, the general, ob- serving that Rawlins appeared to be agi- tated, said, as well as he could speak, " Don't be afraid." And when the incision was made, he observed, '• The orifice is not large enough." However, the blood ran pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleeding was proper or not in the general's situation, begged that much might not be taken from him, lest it should be injurious, and desired me to stop it ; but, when I was about to untie the string, the general put up his hand to prevent it, and, as soon as he could speak, lie said, " More, more." Mrs. Washing- ton being still very uneasy, lest too much blood should be taken, it was stopped after taking about half a pint. Finding that no relief was obtained from bleeding, and that nothing would go down the throat, I proposed bathing it externally with sal volatile, which was done, and in the opera- tion, which was with the hand, and in the gentlest manner, he observed, "It is very sore." A piece of flannel dipped in sal volatile was put around his neck, and his feet bathed in warm water, but without affording any relief. In the meantime, before Dr. Craik ar^ rived, Mrs. Washington desired me to send for Dr. Brown, of Port Tobacco, whom Dr. Craik had recommended to be called, if any case should ever occur that was seriously alarming. Dr. Dick came about three o'clock, and Dr. Brown arrived soon after. Upon Dr. Dick's seeing the general, and consulting a few minutes with Dr. Craik, he was bled again. The blood came very slow, was thick, and did not produce any symptoms of fainting. Dr. Brown came into the chamber soon after, and upon feeling the general's pulse, the phj-sicians went out together. Dr. Craik returned soon after, The general could now swallow a little. Calomel and tartar emetic were adminis- tered, but without any effect. The weather became severely cold, while the group gathered nearer to the couch of the sufferer. He spoke but little. To the respectful and affectionate inquir- ies of an old family servant, as she smoothed down his pillow, how he felt himself, he answered, " I am very ill." To Mrs. Washington he said, " Go to my desk, and in the private drawer you will find two papers — bring them to me." They were brought. Upon looking at them he observed, " These are my wills — preserve this one and burn the other;" which was accordingly done. In the course of the afternoon he ap- peared to be in great pain and distress, from the difficulty of breathing, and fre- quently changed his posture in the bed. On these occasions I lay upon the bed and endeavored to raise him, and turn him with as much ease as possible. He ap- peared penetrated with gratitude for my attentions, and often said, " I am afraid I shall fatigue you too much ;" and upon my assuring him that I could feel nothing but a wish to give him ease, he replied, " Well, it is a debt we must pay to each other, and I hope, when you want aid of this kind, you will find it." He asked when Mr. Lewis and Wash- ington Custis would return. (They were then in New Kent.) I told him about the 122 DEATH OF GEOEGE WASHINGTON. 20th of tlie montli. Tlie general's serv- ant, Cli ri s topher, ^^ii&T5(^^^^*^ "'iis in the room dur- ing the daj' ; and in the afternoon, the general directed him to sit down, as he had been standing almost the whole day. He did so. About eight o'clock in the morn- ing, he had expressed a desire to get up. His clothes were put on, and he was led to a chair by the fire ; he found no relief from that position, and lay down again about ten o'clock. About five o'clock, Dr. Craik came again into tlie room, and, upon going to the bedside, the general said to him, " Doctor, I die hard, btit I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it. My breath can not last long." The doctor pressed his hand, but could not utter a word. He retii-ed from the bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in grief. Between five and six o'clock. Dr. Dick and Dr. Brown came into the room, and with Dr. Craik went to the bed, when Dr. Craik asked him if he could sit iip in the bed. He held out liis hand, and I INGTON, DEC. U, 1799. I raised him up. He thcii|^^j%5§4 said to the physicians, " I feel myself (joinT To-^EXA-NDEu iiAMiLTo^-: lu^this Capacity he served during the re- mainder of the war. and at tlie siege of Yorktown led in person the detacliment that carried by assaidt one of the British outworks. When his military services were no longer required, he commenced the study of the law, entered into its prac- 128 BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. tice in New York, and soon rose to dis- tinction. In 1782, he was chosen a member of congress ; in 1787, a member of the convention tliat framed the federal constitution. Of this work, as profound as any, and more generally intelligible than most, that have been written on the science of government, the larger portion pro- ceeded from the pen of Hamilton. In political life, he was one of the strongest champions of the party which had Wash- ington at its head. In 1789, he was placed in the cabinet, as secretary of the treasury, and while in this position rendered the most efficient service to his country, bj' the establishment of an admirable system of national finance. During the insurrec- tion in Pennsylvania, when the people of the western counties took up arms against the general government, Hamilton was placed at the head of the government force destined to act against thorn ; the disturb- ances being quelled without bloodshed, ho resigned his post. His last appearance in military character was again by the side Aaron Burr was one year the senior of Hamilton, in point of age. His father was the Rev. Aaron Burr, the learned and d& vout president of Princeton college, and of Washington, in 1798, as second in com- mand of the army, which was to be called into service in case of hostilities with France. his mother the daughter of that eminent divine, Jonathan Edwards. Before Burr had reached his third year, however, he was an orphan. When twelve years of age he entered college, graduating at six- teen with the highest reputation. In 1775, while a student of law, he joined the American army under Washington, and such was his ardor in his country's cause, that he joined Arnold as a volunteer in the expedition against Quebec. After his arrival there he was appointed aid-de-camp to Montgomery, and was by the side of that brave officer when he fell. Subse- quentl}', in 1776, he was received by Wa;shington as one of his military family, but was soon cast off by that stern moral- ist in consequence of his debaucherj'. This act of Washington, Burr never for- gave. His unquestioned military talents, however, secured for him the high position of lieutenant-colonel in 1777, which he re- tained until 1779, when he was obliged to relinquish it on account of ill-health. De- voting himself to law, he early became one of the greatest lawyers in New York, oi which state he was. made attorney-general in 1789. From 1791 to 1797, he was a United States senator. In 1800, he was a BUKR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 129 candidate for tlie presidency, and received the same number of votes as Thomas Jef- ferson ; tlie choice thus went to congress, which, on the thirty-sixth ballot, elected Jefferson president and Burr vice-presi- dent. In his personal appearance. Burr is described as having been, in the prime of his manhood, a small but well-formed, fair-complexioned, fascinating man; his face was handsome, by some described as striking, and eyes jet-black and uncom- monly brilliant and piercing. In public he had an air of eminent authority, but in the drawing-room his manner was singu- larly graceful, gentle, and winning. He was a wit, a beau, a good scholar, a pol- ished gentleman, an unscrupulous lawyer and politician, and a libertine in morals. But whoever would read, in all its varied detail, the life of this wonderful man, must consult the biographies of him by Parton and Davis. The animosity between Burr and Ham- ilton, as the leaders, respectively, of the two great political parties, was very bitter. The history of this quarrel, in its immedi- ate bearing upon the fatal rencontre in which it finally culminated, is somewhat differently characterized by various biogra- phers, and perhaps not always impartially. Reviewing the matter from the date of Washington's death, the fact is brought to notice, that such was the number of seced- ers from the federal party after that un- looked-for event, that their opponents re- solved to adopt the bold policy of running two presidential candidates, in order thus to secure at least the election of a vice- president, and in this way, although a choice by the electoral colleges was not effected, the two candidates of the demo- cratic party were brought before the house of representatives with claims apparently equal. In the vote of this body by states, it soon appeared that the federal members had it in their power to determine which of the two, Jefferson or Burr, should be president. Many violent federal parti- sans were inclined to throw a brand of discord into the republican party, by con- ferring the dignity on Burr ; and he is 9 accused of intriguing with them for the purpose. It is believed that Burr, from this time forth, became Hamilton's mortal foe, and watched for an occasion to get rid of such a rival. In the careful account given by Hildreth, of the subsequent progress of this feud, — a portion of which is here cited, — he mentions, primarily, the two well- known letters written by Dr. Cooper, a zealous partisan, in one of which it is alleged that Hamilton had spoken of Burr as a dangerous man, who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government. In the other letter, after repeating the above statement. Cooper added that he could de- tail a still more despicable opinion which General Hamilton had expressed of Mr. Burr. Upon this latter passage, the historian asserts. Burr seized as the means of forcing Hamilton into a duel. For his agent and assistant therein he selected William Pi Van Ness, a j'oung lawyer, one of his most attached partisans, and not less dark, de- signing, cool, and implacable than himself. Van Ness was sent to Hamilton with a copy of Cooper's printed letter, and a note from Burr, insisting upon a prompt and unqualified acknowledgment or denial of the use of any expressions which would warrant Cooper's assertions. Hamilton expressed a perfect readiness to avow or disavow any specific opinion which he might be charged with ha%'ing uttered ; but added that he never would consent to be interrogated generally as to whether he had ever said anything in the course of fifteen years of political competition to justify in- ferences which others might have drawn, thus exposing his candor and sincerity to injurious imputations on the part of all who might have misapprehended him. " More than this," said Hamilton in the conclusion of his letter to Burr, " can not fitly be expected of me ; especially, it can not be reasonably expected that I shall enter into any explanations upon a basis so vague as that j^ou have adopted. I trust, on more reflection, you will see the matter in the same light. If not, I can 130 BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. only regret the circumstance, and must abide the consequences." Burr's curt, rude, and offensive reply began with intimating that Hamilton's better was greatly deficient in that sincer- ity and delicacy which he professed so much to value. The epithet in question, in the common understanding of it, im- plied dishonor. It having been afiixed to Burr's name upon Hamilton's authority, he was bound to say whether he had au- thorized it, either directly, or by uttering expressions or opinions derogatory to Burr's honor. It was apparent from this letter, and it was subsequently distinctly stated by Van Ness, that what Burr required was a gen- eral disavowal on the part of Hamilton, of any intention, in any conversation he might ever have held, to convey impres- sions derogatory to the honor of Burr. Desirous to deprive Burr of any possible excuse for persisting in liis murderous designs, Hamilton caused a paper to be transmitted to him, through Pendleton, a brother lawyer, who acted as his friend in this matter, to the effect that, if properly addressed — for Burr's second letter was considered too insulting to admit of a reply — he should be willing to state that the conversation alluded to by Dr. Cooper, so far as he could recall it, was wholly in re- lation to politics, and did not touch upon Burr's private character ; nor should he hesitate to make an equally prompt avowal or disavowal as to anj' other particular and specific conversation concerning which he might be questioned. But as Burr's only object was to find a pretext for a challenge, — since he never could have expected the general disavowal he demanded, this offer was pronounced unsatisfactory and evasive ; and again, a second time, disavowing in the same breath the charge made against him of predeter- mined hostilit}', Burr requested Van Ness to deliver a challenge. The eleventh of July, at seven in the morning, was the time mutually agreed upon for the duel ; the place, Weehawken, New Jersey, opposite the city of New York ; the weapons to be pistols, and the distance ten paces. In the meantime, Hamilton and Burr met once more at the convivial board, namely, at the annual banquet of the Soci- ety of the Cincinnati, of which Hamilton was president and Burr a member. It is related that on this occasion Hamilton was cheerful, and at times merry. He was urged, as the feast wore awaj', to sing the only song he ever sang or knew, the famous old ballad of "The Drum." It was thought afterward, that he was more reluctant than usual to comply with the company's request ; but after some delay, he said, " Well, j'ou shall have it," and sang it in his best manner, greatly to the delight of the old soldiers by whom he was surrounded. Burr, on the contrary, was reserved, and mingled little with the company, and held no intercourse what- ever with the president. He was never a fluent man, and was generally', in the soci- ety of men, more a listener than a talker. On this occasion, his silence was, there- fore, the less remarked ; yet it was re- marked. It was observed, too, that he paid no attention to Hamilton's conversa- tion, nor, indeed, looked toward him, until he struck up his song, when Burr turned toward him, and, leaning upon the table, looked at the singer until the song was done. The fatal morning came. Colonel Burr arrived first on the ground, as had been previously agreed. He deliberately took off his coat, surve3ed the ground, and then cleared away the bushes, limbs of trees, etc. When General Hamilton ar- rived, the parties exchanged salutations, and the seconds proceeded to make their arrangements. They measured the dis- tance, full ten paces, and cast lots for the choice of jJOsition, as also to determine by whom the word should be given, both of which fell to the seconds of Hamilton. They then proceeded to load the pistols in each other's presence, after which the parties took their stations. The gentleman who was to give the word now explained to the parties the rules which were to govern them in firing, BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 131 ^^»-^^^gf ; J.' ^ SCEXE OF THE BURR AND HAMILTON' DITEL, WEEHAWKKK. which were as follows : * The parties being placed at their stations, the second who gives the word shall ask them whether they are ready ; being answered in the affirmative, he shall say Present; after this, the parties shall present and fire ^vhen they please. If one fires before the other, the opposite second shall saj', One, two, three, fire ; — and he shall then fire, or lose his fire.' He then asked if they were prepared; being answered in the affirmative, he gave the word Present, as had been agreed on, and both parties presented and fired in succession. The fire of Burr took effect ; Hamilton sprang upon his toes with a convulsive movement, reeled a little toward the heights, at which moment he involuntarily discharged his pistol, and then fell headlong upon his face, and remained motionless upon the ground. His ball rustled among the branches, seven feet above the head of his antagonist, and four feet wide of him. Burr heard it, looked up, and saw where it had severed a twig. Looking at Hamilton, he beheld him falling, and advanced towards him with a manner and gesture that appeared to be expressive of regret, but without speaking turned about and withdrew, being urged from the field by his friend. No further communication took place be- tween the principals, and the barge that 132 BURR A:ND HAMILTON DUEL. carried Colonel Burr immediately left the Jersey shore for New York. Hamilton was at once borne aw9y ten- derly in the arms of Pendleton, and his necessities ministered to by Dr. Hosack. He had, at this moment, just strength enough to say, "This is a mortal wound, doctor ; " when he sank away, and became to all appearance lifeless. " My vision is indistinct," were his first words. Soon after recovering his sight, he happened to cast his eye upon the case of pistols, and observing the one he had used lying on the outside, he said : " Take care of that pistol ; it is undis- charged, and still cocked ; it may go off and do harm ; — Pendleton knows (attempt- ing to turn his head towards him) that I did not intend to fire at him." " Yes, I have already made Dr. Hosack acquainted with your determination as to that," replied Pendleton. On approaching the shore, he said, " Let Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for ; let the event be gradually broken to her ; but give her hopes." His friend, Mr. Bayard, stood on the wharf in great agita- tion, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the bottom of the boat, he threw up his arms and burst into a flood of tears and lamen- tation. Hamilton alone appeared tranquil and composed. On being jjut to bed, a consultation of physicians was held, who united in the opinion that there was no chance of his recovery. General Key, the French consul, also had the goodness to invite the surgeons of the French frigates then in New York harbor, as they had had much experience in gun-shot wounds, to render their assistance. They immedi- ately came, but their opinion was unani- mous as to the hopelessness of the case. The ball had struck the second or third false rib, and fractured it about the middle ; it then passed through the liver and the diaphragm, and as far as was sub- sequently ascertained, lodged in the first or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being considerably splintered, so that the spic- ule were perceptible to the touch of the finger. The news of Hamilton's fall, and prob- ably speedy death, by a duel with the vice- president of the United States, paralyzed the whole nation, as the shocking intelli- gence sped itself over the country. In New York, esjpecially, bulletins, hourly changed, kept the city in agitation. All the circumstances of the catastrophe were told, and re-told, at every corner. The thrilling scenes that were passing at the bedside of the dying man, the consultation of the physicians, the arrival of the stricken family, Mrs. Hamilton's overwhelming sorrow, the resignation and calm dignity of the illustrious sufferer, his broken slum- bers during the night, the piteous specta- cle of the seven children entering together the awful apartment, — all these produced an hnpression on the public that can only be imagined. At General Hamilton's request. Bishop Moore and Rev. Dr. Mason visited him at his bedside. To the former he said : " My dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate sit- uation, and no doubt have been made acquainted with the circumstances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the communion at your hands. I hope you will not conceive there is any impropriety in my request. It has for some time past been the wish of my heart, and it was my intention to take an early opportunity of uniting myself to the church by the recep- tion of that holy ordinance." Bishop Moore observed to him, that he must be very sensible of the delicate and trying situation in which, as a minister, he was then placed; that however desirous he might be to afford consolation to a fellow mortal in distress, still it was his dvity as an ambassador of the gospel, to hold up the law of God as paramount to all other law, and that, therefore, he must unequivocally condemn the practice which had brought him to his present unhappy condition. Hamilton acknowledged the propriety of these sentiments, and added, " / have no ill-ivill against Colonel Burr. I met him ivith a fixed determination to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened." After some other religious conversation BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 133 incident to the occasion, he received the sacrament with great devotion, expressing strong confidence in divine mercy. In his interview with Dr. Mason, he exhibited the same spiritual conviction, and repeated the emphatic testimony he had given to Bishop Moore, against the barbarous custom of dueling. The next da^', Thursday, at eleven o'clock, being about thirty hours after receiving the fatal wound, Hamilton em- braced his wife for the last time, then calmly' composed himself to die, and ex- pired without a shudder or a groan, in the prime of his manhood, being forty-seven years of age. The death of this most illustrious states- man was universally deplored, as a na- tional calamitj^ second only to the death of Washington himself; and, indeed, on ac- count of the tragical circumstances under which the great patriot was brought to his end, the excitement produced through- out the country was, if possible, more startling and profound than that which followed the announcement of Washing- ton's decease. In the city of New York, the most imposing funeral ceremony ever witnessed in America revealed the unex- ampled grief that burdened the public mind. All business was suspended, the bells tolled in solemn requiem, public meet- ings of the various societies were held, the ships in the harbor hoisted their flags at half-mast, and sorrow was depicted on every countenance. The indignation against Burr knew no bounds. His fixed determination to bring Hamilton within range of his pistol, feel- ing " sure of being able to kill him," caused his act to be branded as willful murder, and an indictment was duly found against him ; but in a few days he fled, an outlaw and an outcast, and thus eluded justice. Burr's execrable heartlessness may be judged of, by the note written by him to Mr. Allston, his son-in-law, in which he said : " General Hamilton died yester- da3% The malignant federalists or tories, and the embittered Clintonians, unite in endeavoring to excite public sympathy in his favor and indignation against his an- tagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods are circulated with industry. The most illiberal means are practiced in order to produce excitement, and for the moment with effect." One week before the time fixed upon for the duel, Hamilton prepared a letter to his wife, to be handed to her in case of his death. In this affecting epistle, he assures her that he had striven by all honorable means to avoid the meeting, and expects to fall in it; he entreats her forgiveness for the calamity his death would bring upon her, and conjures her to meet the blow in calm submission to providence. Hamilton's widow, a woman of rare excellence and dignity, survived him some fifty years. Once only did she see her husband's murderer, the circumstances of this occasion being related as follows : In the year 1822, she was traveling from New York to Albany, on one of the boats plj'ing the Hudson. The com- pany had been summoned to dinner. When Mrs. Hamilton had almost reached her seat in the dining-saloon, on rais- ing her eyes she perceived Aaron Burr standing directly opposite to her, with only the narrow width of the table between them. The shock was too much for her system, — she uttered a loud scream, fell, and was carried in a fainting state from the apartment. As soon as she recovered, she insisted on being set on shore at the first landing-place, refusing to journey further in the same vessel with Burr. It is said, that, after the removal of Mrs. Hamilton from the dining saloon, Burr deliberately sat down and ate a hearty dinner with the utmost composure. This story, however, wears an air of improba- bility. XVI. TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE AT MID-DAT.— 1806. The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Earth. — Stars and Planets in Full Radiance — Magnificent Spec- tacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances Flaming from the Sun. — Splendor of the Returning Night. — Similar Eclipse in 1869. — Millions of Faces Turned Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed Delight. — Remarkably Fine Weather. — Serene and Cloudless Heavens. — Business Pursuits Abandoned. — The Moon Crossing the Sun. — Distinctness of the Lunar Orb. — Grand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty. — Total Obscurity Some Five Minutes. — Appearance of Nature. — Sensations Produced in the Mind. — Involuntary Exclama- tions. — Effect on Birds and Animals. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science — Exquisitely-Constructed Instruments. — Revelations of the Spectroscope. — Great Thermometrical Clianges. — Spots on the Sun Examined. — Openings in the Moon. — Peculiar Color of that Body. — Its Dark and Dismal Shadows. — Search for New Stars. — Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon. — Climax of the Impressive Scene. "Th« BTin'B rim flip^ ; the Btarn rush out 1 With one etrido coined the durk I "— CuLEItlDOE. IMPLE and well known though the fact may be, according to the ex- ]>lanations of astronomical science, that a solar eclipse is caused bj' the intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth during the daytime, and that the effect of such interposition is to obstruct the sun's rays — the liglit being turned into darkness while the phenome- non lasts — a total solar eclipse is, without doubt, the most sublime and awe-inspiring spectacle upon which the ej'e of man is permitted to gaze. By far the most remarkable exhibition of this kind, was that which occurred June 16, 1806, when the sun in the northern states was totally eclipsed nearly five minutes, about half an hour before noon, the width of the moon's shadow being about one hundred and fifty miles, or about seventy-five on each side of the central line. Since 1806, only one total eclipse of the sun occurred in the Atlantic States, namely in South Carolina and Georgia, November 30, 1834; but the eclipse of June 16, 1806, is regarded by astronomers as the most memorable ever known in the United States, — that of August 7, 18G0, being the next in grandeur and interest. The accounts given by Chancellor De Witt, of New York, Dr. Bowditch, of Massa- chusetts, and others, of the phenomenon of 1806, show that its approach was most anx- iously watched, and, as it was to be seen all over Europe and North America, the gaze of the people of both hemispheres was, on that day, simultaneously directed toward the great luminary and center of the physical system. Some of the most remarkable observ- ations made by Dr. Bowditch, of Salem, Mass., will liere be given. Fortunately for the interests of science, the day was one of remark.ably fine weather, scarcely a cloud being visible in any part of the heavens. An assistant was seated TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 135 near the doctor, who counted the seconds from tlie chronometer, thus enabling Dr. Bowditch to mark down with a pencil the time when the first impression was made on the sun's limb, without taking his eye from the telescope till four or five seconds had elapsed, and the eclipse had sensibly increased. As the eclipse advanced, there did not appear to be so great a diminution of the light as was generally expected, and it was not until tlie sun was nearly cov- ered, that the darkness was very sensible. At thirty-seven minutes and thirty seconds past eleven o'olock, the sun's surface was wholly covered. The last ray of light from the sun's limb disappeared instantaneously. The whole of the moon was then seen sur- rounded by a luminous appearance of con- siderable extent, such as had generally been noticed in total eclipses of the sun. This luminosity, with a twilight bright- ness round the horizon, prevented the darkness from being any greater than it was, during the time that the sun's sur- face remained wholly covered. The de- gree of light can be estimated, on such an occasion, by the number of stars visible to the naked eye ; those noticed at this time were Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon, the three bright stars in the belt of Orion, f i[l|lllllllllllllll llllllllllllllIIIII|liU|| >LAIt ECLirSK IN INIII and the star a in its shoulder. Venus and Mars were also visible. A candle had been provided to assist in reading off the seconds from the chronometer, but, though it was not found necessary in the garden where these observations were made, it would have been in the house adjoining. As the time drew near for witnessing the end of the total darkness, there was no- ticed a visible increase of light in the at- mosphere for about two seconds before any part of the sun's limb was visible in the telescope ; but at thirty-two minutes and eighteen seconds past eleven o'clock — the time noted as that of the end of total darkness, — the light burst forth with great splendor. After this, the light «.\>- peared to increase much faster than it had decreased, and in a short time it was as light as in a common cloudy day, the degree of light continually increas- ing, of course, as the eclipse drew to a close. The impressions made by such an exhi- bition, upon different minds, are not the least interesting points, in a narrative like this. Mr. Cooper, the novelist, though but a youth at the time of the eclipse, was so enthusiastic an observer of the specta- cle, that, twenty-five years after the event, he wrote a minute account of what he saw and how he felt during the wonderful occurrence. Mr. Cooper states that, as he and the other spectators in his company first discerned, through their glasses, the oval form of the moon darkening the sun's light, an exclamation of delight, al- most triumphant, burst involuntarily from the lips of all. Gradually, and at first quite imperceptibly to the sight, that dark and mysterious sphere gained upon the orb of light. As yet (continues Mr. Cooper), there was no change perceptible in the sunlight falling upon lake and mountain ; the familiar scene wore its usual smiling aspect, bright and glowing as on other days of June. The people, however, were now crowding into the streets, — their usual labors were abandoned — forgotten for the moment, — and all faces were turned upward. Gradually a fifth, and even a fourth, of the sun's disc be- came obscured, and still the unguarded eye could not endure the flood of light. The noonday heat, however, began to lessen, and something of the coolness of early morning returned to the valley. Soon, a somber, yellowish, unnatural color- 136 TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. ing -was shed over the country. A great change had taken place. The trees on the distant heights had lost their verdure and their airy character, and were taking the outline of dark pictures graven upon an unfamiliar sky. The startling effect of such an abnormal transition iu nature, upon animals and PROGRESS OF TilK SOLAR ECLIPSE. fowls, and even upon human beings, has sometimes been described in such a manner as to excite well-grounded suspi- cions of exaggeration, in the minds of those persons to whom has been denied the opportunity of personal observation. But Mr. Cooper states that "all living creatures seemed throw^l into a state of agitation. The birds were fluttering to and fro, in great excitement; they seemed to mistrust th;\t this was not the gradual approach of evening, and were undecided in their movements. Even the dogs be- came uneasy, and drew closer to their mas- ters. The eager, joj'ous look of interest and curiosity, which earlier in the morning had appeared in almost every countenance, was now changed to an expression of won- der, or anxiety, or thoughtful ness, accord- ing to the individual character. Every house now gave up its tenants. As the light failed more and more with everj' pass- ing second, the children came flocking about their mothers in terror. The women themselves were looking about uneasily for their husbands. The men were very gen- erally silent and grave. Many a laborer left his employment to be near his wife and children, as the dimness and darkness increased. It was one of those entirely un- clouded days, less rare in America than in Europe. The steadily-waning light, the gradual approach of darkness, became the more impressive as wo observed this abso- lutely transparent state of the heavens. The birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier had been fluttering about in great agita- tion, seemed now to be convinced that night was at hand. Swallows were dimly seen dropping into the chimnej-s, the martins returned to their little boxes, the pigeons flew home to their dove-cots, and through the open door of a small barn we saw the fowls going to roost. The usual flood of sunlight had now become so much weakened, that we could look upward long, and steadily, without the least pain. The sun appeared Hke a j'oung moon of three or four da}"s old, though of course with a larger and more brilliant crescent. One after another, the stars came into view, more rapidly than in the evening twilight, until perhaps fifty stars appeared to us, in a broad dark zone of the heavens, crown- ing the pines on the western mountain. This wonderful vision of the stars, during the noontide hours of daj-, filled the spirit with singular sensations. Suddenly, one of my brothers shouted aloud, " The moon ! " Quicker than thought, mj- eye turned eastward again, and there floated the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree that was almost fearful. The spherical form, the character, the dignity, the sul>- ctance of the planet, were clearl3- revealed, as I have never beheld them before, or since. It looked grand, dark, majestic, and mighty. Darkness like that of early night now fell upon the village. A few cows, believing that night had overtaken them, were coming homeward from the wild open pastures ; the dew was falling perceptibly, and the thermometer must have fallen many degrees from the great heat of the morning. The lake, the hills, and the buildings of the little town, were swallowed up in the darkness. All labor had ceased. The plaintive note of the whippowil was distinctly heard. A bat came flitting about our heads. Many stars TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 137 were now visible. At twelve minutes past eleven, the moon stood revealed in its greatest distinctness — a vast black orb, so nearly obscuring the sun that the face of the great luminary was entirely and abso- lutely darkened, though a corona of rays of light appeared beyond. The gloom of night was upon us. A breathless intensity of interest was felt by all. A group of silent, dusky forms stood near me; one emotion appeared to govern all. Three minutes of darkness, all but absolute, elapsed. They appeared strangely' length- ened by the intensity of feeling, and the flood of overpowering thought which filled the mind." Mr. Cooper concludes this record of his pleasing recollections, by stating some of the appearances accompa- nj'ing the restoration of light, and the joyous manifestations on the part of those who witnessed it. The calculations made and recorded by Bowditch, show that the beginning of the eclipse was at six minutes and twenty-four seconds past ten o'clock ; the beginning of total darkness was at twenty-five minutes and twenty-six seconds past eleven, and it ended at thirty minutes and fourteen seconds past eleven ; the eclipse ended at fifty minutes and forty-two seconds past twelve ; duration of the eclipse, two hours, forty-four minutes, eighteen sec- onds ; duration of the total darkness, four minutes and forty-eight seconds. In the engraved representation of this magnifi- cent and solemn spectacle, the luminous ring round the moon is exactly as it ap- peared in the middle of the eclipse. The edge of the moon was strongly illumin- ated, exhibiting the brilliancy of polished silver. But, though the eclipse of 1806 was, at least in the duration of its totality, mem- orable above all precedent, to American observers, the total eclipse of August sev- enth, 1869, was destined to be more im- portant in a scientific point of view, and to fill a more prominent place in history, on account of the great progress in astronomi- cal knowledge and the corresponding im- provement in all the instruments of tele- scopic observation, characterizing the laps© of more than three-score years. Beginning in the Pacific ocean, just east of Yeddo, the capital of Japan, at sunrise there, the shadow's central point first struck the earth in the Altair mountain range in Russian Asia, one hundred and sixty-five and a half degrees west from Washington, then passing in a northward curve still, entered United States territory in Alaska, near Prince William's sound, at the hour of noon. Thence it rapidly traversed British Columbia, hit the center of Montana's northern line, struck the Mississippi river near Sioux City, Iowa, passed through Illinois just north of Springfield, shaded segments of Indiana, Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina, and ended its totality in mid- ocean. The course of the eclipse was in the form of an ellipse, and the extreme limits of the obscuration embraced nearly one-half the earth's circumference ; while the central circular patch of darkness was about one hundred and fifty-six miles in diameter. Never were more extensive preparations made by governments and men of science, to have thorough observations of a solar TOTAL ECLIPSE IN 18(JL). eclipse, than at this time, and never was the weather more propitious for su. h an event to be noted, in all its phenomena. At Springfield, Illinois, one of the most available spots for observation. Professor Peirce, of Harvard College, was in attend- ance. AVlien the total obscuration took place, the heavens and earth presented a 138 TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. scene of awful sublimity. A brilliant amber-colored corona appeared around the 8un and moon, shooting rays of light out- ward in all directions, when the whole hori- zon was illuminated with light of the same color. The planets Mercury and Venus, and a number of fixed stars, were distinctly visi- ble, but no planetary orbs between Mercury and the sun were discovered. A brilliant rose-colored flame, or protuberance, was noticed on the western limb of the sun dur- ing the period of total obscuration. The phenomenon, known as Bailey's beads, was also distinctly %yitnessed. According to Prof. Peirce, the last-named appearance is occasioned by the refraction of liglit, and the corona, or halo, at the time of totality, by the sun's atmosphere. Des Moines, Iowa, afforded another most favorable locality for the presence of astronomers, a slight haze only interfering to prevent satisfactory search for the plan- ets sujiposed to exist inside the orbit of Mercury. Professor Safford's observations showed that the first contact occurred at three o'clock, forty-three minutes, fortj'- three seconds ; the commencement of the total obscurity was at four o'clock, forty- five minutes, thirty seconds, and its end was at four o'clock, forty-eight minutes, twenty-two seconds ; the last contact was at five o'clock, forty-five minutes, eleven seconds. The points of time thus noted by Pro- fessor Safford, were from six to twenty- two seconds later than calculated, according to Washington ; E. P. Himenas and Pro- fessor Hillyard observing it. A discrep- ancy was also noticed between the calcu- hition and observation of the corona. It was nearly rhomboidal in form, and very distinct and extended, at some points half a degree beyond tlie edge of the sun's disc. The rose-colored protuberances ap- peared to the number of five or six, the greatest being on the sun's south-western quarter. Professor Harkness's observa- tions of the protuberances, in the spectro- scope, showed a different spectra for each. But a single band was thrown by the cor- ona. Prof jssor Eastman's observations of the thermometer showed a fall of thirteen degrees in the temperature, during the progress of the eclipse. Venus and Mer- cury could be plainly seen, and the dark- ness exceeded that of the night. But the most interesting feature in the aspect of the sun was the protuberances or beads. The largest one was semi-circular in shape, with a finger extending about one-eighth jiart of the sun's diameter, directly down- ward as one looked. Another right limb was shaped much like two horns cf an ante- lope. The greatest length of the corona was in the direction of the elliptic. Valu- able observations were also made here by Professors Peters, Eraser, Rogers, Norton, and Lane. Professors Hough and Murray made some valuable observations at Mattoon, Illinois, one of their instruments being pro- vided with means for accurately measuring the diversions of the protuberances on the sun or corona. AMien the sun became totally obscured, the darkness was equal to that of a moonlight night, and the temper- ature was forty-two degrees cooler than one hour before. Six spots were visible on the surface of the sun before the eclipse, two of which were very prominent, and the others much less. The cusps on the moon had a ragged and blurred appearance, and, near them, Bailey's beads were seen by all observers, extending through an arc of fifty degrees. The moment the eclipse became total, the flame-like protuberances were seen with wonderful distinctness, one very large on the lower limb of the sun, and three nearly as large on the upper limbs, while at least seven or eight of them in all were visible. The one on the right hand, or lower limb, had somewhat the appearance of a full-rigged ship with sails set. In its part nearest the moon were two or three jet black spots. To the naked eye, it seemed as though there were openings in the moon, two on the east side and one on the south-west side. Just after the total obscurity, through the openings, the lurid glow of the sun was plainly visi- ble. The corona was not, as generally described, a halo of light surrounding the TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 130 moon, but appearpii in the shape of five forked prongs on the upper circumference of the moon. These points presented a railiant appearance. The generally-re- ceived theory regarding this corona — that it is the atmosphere of the sun — did not seem to be sustained by the observations made at this point. Although search was made, no planetary bodies were observed liatween Mercury and the sun. During the totality phase, Mei-cury, Venus, Eegulus, Mars, Saturn, Denebata, and other stars, appeared in full view. The temperature in the shade, at the beginning of the eclipse, was seventy-seven degrees ; during the totality, forty-five degrees ; and at the end of the eclipse, it had risen to seventy degrees. At three o'clock and forty min- utes, in the sun, on the grass, the ther- mometer was at one hundred degrees. At a few minutes after four, it rose to one hundred and two degrees, while during the totality it fell to sixty, but subsequently rose to eighty. Dr. B. A. Gould and Professor Coffin had charge of the observations made at Burlington, Iowa, by direction of the United States government, with whom were also associated Professors Morton, Mayer, Hines, Watson, Merriman, Van Fleck, Johnson, and others, either as oIj- servers or visitors. Two points were paid special attention to at this place, namely, a search for those planets which Leverrier supposed to exist between the sun and Mercury, and the character of the corona. For this purpose, a telescope of peculiar construction was emploj'ed, being of the least magnifying power combined with the greatest intensity of light possible. The attempts at measuring the corona were necessarily vague, but its height above the edge of the moon was computed at full six- teen minutes, — some four hundred and forty thousand miles, — while the stream- ers, or longer projections of its light, extended some thirty minutes bej'ond the surface, the whole diameter of the sun being thirty-two minutes. The color of the moon during the total obscuration was observed, and decided to be not jet black. as represented by some, but a dark slate color. The corona was an exquisitely pure white, which, as it faded into the dark background of the skj^, became gray. It was visible one minute and twenty-six seconds before totality, and one minute after, and was extremely variable in sym- metry of form. Three sketches were taken in less than three minutes of the duration, in which the corona showed marked change of outline. The protuber- ances commonlj' called rosy, by observers at other places, here looked white to the naked ej'e, with an operarglass slightly ro- seate, and with the telescope red. At the moment of totality, the planets were visi- ble, ranged in perfect brilliancy ; Mercury, ruddy as Mars, and Arcturus and Eegulus, fixed stars of the first magnitude, were plain to the unassisted eye. The right protuberance on the sun's lower limb had a cellular or honey-combed appearance, not like a flame. In the search made at Burlington for intra-mercurial planets, the light was shut off of the corona by means of occulting circles, and the region was carefully stud- ied. Search was made for the star Pi Le- onis, a fixed star of five and eight-tenths magnitude, fifty minutes distance from the sun, and it was actually seen, yet so faint, that, if it had not been known to be there, it could not have been discovered. If there were any star of the fifth or sixth magnitude there, it would have been observed ; but no such star could be detected. Great preparations were made at Shel- bj-ville, Kentucky, for a complete observ- ance of the phenomenon. One of the most interesting discoveries made here, by Professor Winlock, at the spectroscope, was that of eleven bright lines in the spectrum of the protuberances of the sun, instead of the smaller number hitherto determined. He also observed a shower of meteors between the earth and moon. The beautiful protuberances appeared as red flames, and were seen by the naked eye. Bailey's beads, as well as the dark and dismal shadows of the moon, sailing 140 TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. away through the air, were noted. Mr. Searle, wliose specialty it was to search for iiitra-mercurial jilanets, did not succeed in finding any, reporting nothing fainter than Regains near the sun. Some mo- ments before the. total phase, the usual phenomena of distraction among the birds of the air and the cattle occurred. Six minutes before totality, a deathly ashen hue overspread the countenances of all, ECLIPSE, AS SEEN IN BRAZIL. and for a while the faint-hearted were almost terrified. The general phenomena at all the places where the eclipse was complete, or nearly so, were the vacilla- tion of the wind, the deep, strange shadow, the yellowish pink atmosphere in the west, the flickering and wavy appearance of the sun's rays when the eclipse was at its height, the chilly feeling, the disturbance among the birds and fowls, and the sight of certain planets with the naked eye. At Newbern, North Carolina, the ther- mometer fell ten and one-half degrees, during the time from first contact to total obscuration. The sky was intensely blue, »t totality, and studded with glittering stars, while the north-west glowed with a deep crimson orange hue. Around the black body of the moon glowed a ring of molten silver, whence radiated the corona, an immense halo; and, just as the last rays of the sun disappeared, this halo, with prominent projections like a huge star, burst out all around the disc of the moon, forming a most impressive climax to the whole phenomenon ; directly at the bottom, glowed with intense brilliancy a rose-colored projection, visible to the naked eje ; a few seconds more, and another glittered at the extreme right — and then another, and, successive!}-, six or more pale ruby brilliants burned with dazzling effulgence in their silver setting; a second or two more, and the silvering on the right melted into golden beads; another, and the glorious sunlight flashed forth. The corona disappeared. The northern sky was radiant with a new day-break at six o'clock in the afternoon, the dark shadow of the moon swept southward, and the chilly gloominess rolled away into the southern sky. The small amount of light that fell upon the trees and buildings, just before and after the total obscuration, lighted them up with a brilliancy most peculiar; the light was more diffusive than moonlight, and the shadows were more distinctly marked and visible. It was a pale golden light ; the edges of the distant woods were more apparent than in the full sunlight, each tree seeming to stand out by itself, — the nearest approach to such a light being that known as the calcium, the latter, however, being white instead of pale golden. At the instant of complete obscuration, when the corona flashed around the dark disc of the moon, there also flashed into view the larger stars and planets. Venus, twice an evening star in one day, hung half-way down from the zenith ; near the sun glistened a star of the first magnitude, Eegiilus ; while overhead the intense blue sky was full of them. Much scientific interest centered around, the expedition sent by government to the new and distant territory of Alaska. This expedition left Sitka, July 15th, in an open boat, for the Chilkah river, but, in consequence of bad weather, it was eleven days in reaching the positions selected — only twenty miles from the central path of totality. It was found impracticable to carry the instruments and provisions over Iron Mountain range, for the determina^ tion of the latitude and longitude and the magnetic variation obtained, before the date of the eclipse. The seventh of TOTAL SOLAE ECLIPSE. 141 August was the cloudiest day experienced, but breaks in the clouds enabled the party to watch different phases, and the begin- ning of totality was accurately noted. In- stantly after obscuration, rose-colored flames were visible to the unassisted eye, and tlieir extent, position, elevation, and approximity, measured on the south-east and south-west parts of the sun's limb. Tiie corona was visible over a part of the limb only. The end of the eclipse was not seen, but the whole picture was magnifi- cent. The phenomena of coming darkness and growing light were very marked along the course of the valley. The Hon. W. H. Seward, and his accompanying tourists, visited Professor Davidson's camp, and watched with intense interest and solemn delight the phases of the eclipse, particu- larly the rose-colored flames and corona. A party at the mouth of the river had the best view of the totality ; the clouds broke, and a large clear space enabled them to see the flames and corona, in their marvelous beauty, also the planet Mercury, and stars of the fourth magnitude. At Sitka, the eclipse was watched through broken clouds. The Indians were fearfully alarmed, and hid themselves in their houses, or took to the bushes. As usual, ou the occurrence of such a wonderful sight, some strange incidents transpired. In his account of the observa- tions made by Professor Watson, at Mount Pleasant, Iowa, Professor Tyler narrates the case of a good man who went round the town for days beforehand, and de- nounced the impiety of the scientific pro- ceedings going on — that the astronomers were profanely attempting to pry into God's secrets, and that he had veiled his sun in order to bafile them. The cloudy weather which continued up to the last day seemed to give some support to his declarations ; but, notwithstanding his assertion that God would keep his rain a-going, and prevent the use of their irre- ligious telescopes, the day cleared off with the utmost splendor. Another local prophet announced that the eclipse was a judgment upon the world for its abomina- tions, and that the path of its shadow over the earth would be marked by utter blight. But these deluded prophets of evil were, indeed, rare exceptions ; millions of man- kind watched, with reverential and de- lighted satisfaction, the obedience of the two great luminaries to the eternal laws which govern their existence; and Science, the hand-maid and interpreter of Nature, gave new assurance of her sublime and beneficent mission. XVII. CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR.— 1806. Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, with Burr as Sovereign. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Trea- son. — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in His Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the Whole Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise.— Scene at His Arrest. — Attempt to F,.<;cape. — The Irnn-hearted Man in Tears. — His Social Fascination. — Preparations for the Trial.— Its Legal and Forensic In- terest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as a Man of Infamy. — Devotion of His Daughter Theodosia — Lifelong and Un- alterable Love — Her Mysterious Fate. — Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning. " Ilio country's curse, hie children* Outcael of virtue, pence, and fume. S events proved, it remained for Aaron Burr to add one more political crime to his corrupt career as a public man, and one more dark chapter to his country's history. Staggering under the weight of ob- loquy and disgrace brought down upon him by his cold-blooded disposal of Alex- ander Hamilton, on the fatal plains of Weehawken, he still sought some means of triumf)hing over his enemies and attaining distinction and power. Strong and resolute in the operations of his ever-active mind, his ambition was equally restless and far-reaching. Abandoned by his once-admiring political associates, he became an exile, in one of the then far-off western states, his brain teeming with schemes of wealth, conquest, and dominion. In the autumn of 1806, President Jefferson learned that mj'sterious proceedings were going on along the Ohio : boats preparing, stores of provisions collecting, and a number of suspicious characters in movement. A confidential agent sent by the government authorities to the spot, warned the president that Burr was the prime mover; and General Wilkinson, who commanded near New Orleans, intimated that propositions of a daring and dangerous import had been transmitted to him by that personage. The ostensible pretext was, the forming of a large agricultural settlement on the banks of the Washita in Louisiana, a tributary of the Mississippi ; but the various preparations, the engagement for six months only, the purchase and building of boats, the provision of muskets and bayonets, pointed to something of a very different character — either the formation of the western territory into a separate government, or an expedition acrainst Mexico, sought to be justified by a CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 143 boundary difference that liad arisen with Spain. In fact, the erection of a new empire, with Burr at its head. Burr's chief associate in the pLans which he had thus formed was Harman Blenner- hassett, and the story of their acquain- tance, friendship and confederation, borders strongly on tl)e romantic. Blen- nerhassett was one of the Irisli patriots who were compelled to flee from Ireland after their attempt to liberate themselves from the thralldom of England, and was the classmate and friend of the celebrated Thomas Addis Emmett. He was pos- sessed of a large amount of property, the greater part of which he was fortunate enough to render available in money before his departure. Disgusted with the corruption of courts, and glad to escape the turmoil of politics, he sought retire- ment in the western wilderness, on a beau- tiful island in the Ohio, then on the borders of civilization. Here he built a princely mansion, and embellished it in a most costly manner. Situated on the borders of Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio, he had access to very refined societj', with which it was his custom constantlj' to intermingle and exchange civilities. His hospitality was unbounded ; and, dealt out as it was by his own chivalric courtesy and the grace of his beautiful wife, his island became the general resort for all the country around, and it is even yet cel- ebrated for the splendid revelries and entertainments of which it was once the scene. Blennerhassett was a fine sample of a polished Irish gentleman, and rendered himself a very affectionate object of regard, by the amenity of his manners and his disposition. His lady was a woman of rare beauty and accomplishments, which were heightened by a pure and unimpeach- able character. She reigned the queen of this beautiful kingdom of taste and refine- ment which Blennerhassett had created on the Ohio ; and, according to contemporary accounts, she deported herself with an ele- gance and dignitj' that might have become a throne. She was also a woman of high spirit and ambition, and when Burr, aware of her commanding influence over her hus- band, confidentially intrusted her with his plans, she was fired with the boldness and intrepidity of his enterprise, and immedi- ately determined to engage her husband as an associate. Blennerhassett, being a man of ductile temper, was easily induced by the dazzling representations of prospec- tive glory and honor which were set before him, to become a participator with Burr. He was, moreover, a liberalist of the French school, of which fact Aaron Burr was well aware ; and it would seem that the gorgeous picture which Burr held up to him, of Mexico redeemed from tyranny by their united efforts, inspired his whole nature, as he entered with enthusiasm into what he was led to regard an honorable and humane undertaking. When once pledged to Burr, urder the mastering genius of his wife, the exiled patriot actively engaged in enlisting men, building boats, and preparing the essen- tials of his expedition. Many of the most respectable citizens of the neighboring country, being influenced by the flattering promises held out, were induced to con- tribute funds, and connect themselves with the affair. The entertainments on the island were, with the progress of events, broken up, and its shores echoed only to the muffled oar of the conspirators, as they crossed from the adjacent banks, or to the tramp of bold adventurers, as they congre- gated on the beach to resolve and discuss their plans. Though somewhat anticipating the thread of the narrative, it may here be stated, as illustrating the character of a truly brave woman and devoted wife, that a large number of flat-boats had been built on the Muskingum, and sent over to the island, and everything was ripe for a movement, when the plot became known to the public authorities. Blennerhassett was very speedily deserted by his follow- ers ; and Buell, who commanded the gov- ernment militia, went over with a small detachment to arrest Burr's great accom- plice. He had hardly set his foot on the 144 CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. island, before he waa met by Mrs. Blen- nerhassett, whose spirit seemed to rise with the increasing desperation of her fortunes. She had seen the party coming, and, snatching up a pair of her husband's pis- tols, she ran from ihe house to meet them. Just as the militia-major stepped out of the boat, she seized him by the shoulder, and, thrusting him back, presented two formidable pistols full in his face, cocked and primed, saying in the most positive tone, — " One step farther, and I will send you into eternitij; it is easier for me to do than to sal/ it!" Her splendid figure, drawn up to its full height, her eye fixed with a strong and determined gaze, her hands clenching firmly the weapons which she held at arm's length, — these told the militia- major, in language not to be mistaken, the terms on which he might advance. It is no disparagement of his military or manly qualities to sa}', that the old soldier quailed before the courageous woman and her trag- ical determination, and was forced to turn without his victim. The frustration of Burr's scheme was largely due to the revelations made by General Wilkinson, in whom Burr had confided so far as to communicate quite fully the character and mode of the proposed expedition. The tenor of this communication was, that he. Burr, had ob- tained funds, and had actually commenced the enterprise, detachments from different points and under different pretenses being ready to rendezvous on the Ohio by the first of November, to meet on the Missis- sippi, — Wilkinson to be second in com- mand to Burr only, and to dictate the rank and promotion of the oflficers. Burr was to proceed westward with his daugh- ter, whose husband would follow in Octo- ber, with a company of choice spirits. Wilkinson was also asked to send an intel- ligent and confidential friend to confer with Burr. — bringing a list of all persons known to tao general, west of the moun- tains, likely to prove useful, — together with four or five commissions of Wilkin- son's officers, to be borrowed upon some pretense, and duly to be returned. To this was added the as'surance, that already had orders been given to the contractor, to forward six months' provisions to points Wilkinson should name — this not to be used until the last moment, and then under proper injunctions. Burr stated his plan of operations to be as follows : To move down rapidly from the Falls on the fifteenth of November, with the first five hundred or one thousand men in light boats, to be at Natchez between the fifth and fifteenth of December, there to meet Wilkinson and determine as to the expe- diency of seizing on or passing by Baton Rouge ; that the people of the country to which the movement was directed were ready to extend a cordial welcome, their agents then with Burr declaring that, if he would protect their religion and not subject them to a foreign power, in three weeks all would be settled. In concluding his letter to Wilkinson, Burr in glowing rhapsody said: " Tlie gods invite to glory and fortune! It remains to be seen whether we deserve the boon. The bearer of this goes express to you ; he will hand a formal letter of introduction to you from Burr. He is a man of inviolable honor and perfect dis- cretion, formed to execute rather than to project, capable of relating facts with fidel- ity and incapable of relating them other- wise ; he is thoroughly informed of the plans and intentions of Burr, and will dis- close to you as far as you inquire, and no farther. He has imbibed a reverence for j'our character, and may be embarrassed in 3'our presence ; put him at ease and he will satisfy j'ou." It appeared to be Burr's plan, to make Blennerhassett's island, in the Ohio river, the place of rendezvous ; there to fit out bo.-its furnished with armed men, and send them down the river. Burr had counted too confidently upon Wilkinson's becoming an accessory and participant. The latter instantly resolved, after reading the cipher-letter, to avail himself of the reference it made to the CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 145 bearer, Mr. Sw.irtwout, ami, in the course of some clays, drew from liiin the following disclosure : — That he had been dispatched by Colonel Burr from Philadelphia; had passed through the states of Ohio and Kentucky, and proceeded from Louisville for St. Louis, expecting there to find Wil- kinson ; but discovering that Wilkinson had descended the river, he procured a skiff, hired hands, and followed the gen- eral down the Mississippi to Fort Adams, and from thence set out for Natchitoches, in company with Captains Spark and Hooke, under the pretense of a disposition to take part in the campaign against the Spaniards, then pending. That Colonel Burr, with the support of a powerful asso- ciation extending from New York to New Orleans, was levying an armed body of seven thousand men from the western states and territories, with a view to carry an expedition against the provinces of Mexico, and that five hundred men, under the command of Colonel Swartwout and a Colonel or Major Tyler, were to de- scend the Alleghany, for whose accom- modation light-boats had been built and were ready. In reply to Wilkinson's inquiry, as to what course was to be pursued, answer was made that the territory would be revo- lutionized, where the people were ready to join them ; that there would be some seiz- ing, probably, at New Orleans ; that they expected to be ready to march or embark about the first of February, intending to land at Vera Cruz, and to march from thence to Mexico. General Wilkinson now remarked, " There are several millions of dollars in the hank of this place;" to which reply was made, " We knoio it full well." On the general's further observing that he presumed they certainly did not mean to violate private property. Burr's agent said that they meant to borrow, and would return it; that they must equip themselves in New Orleans, that tliey expected naval protection from Great Brit- ain ; that the captains and officers of the American navy were so disgusted with the government, that they were ready to join ; 1U that similar disgusts prevailed throughout the western country, wliere the people were zealous in favor of the enterprise, and that pilot-boat built schooners had been contracted for along the southern coast for their service. Though determined to deceive him, if possible, General Wilkinson avers — not- withstanding the charge which has been brought against him of at one time favor- ing and subsequently turning his back upon Burr's scheme — that he rejilied that he could never dishonor his commission ; that he also duped the agent by expressing admiration of the plan, and by observing, that, although he could not join the expe- dition, the engagements which the Span- iards had prepared for him at the front might prevent his opposing it. Yet, as soon as General Wilkinson had fully deciphered the letter, he declared his inten- tion to oppose the lawless enterprise with all the force at his command, and immedi- ately informed President Jefferson. With the exception of the attack on the frigate Chesapeake, Commodore Barron, by the British frigate Leopard, and the embargo and non-intercourse measures against England, few occurrences caused greater anxiety to the president, during his eight years' official term, tlian this of Burr. Government spies had for some time been on Burr's track, and, in view of his supposed design to attempt a separation of the western states from the federal union, the governor of Ohio was authorized by the legislature to proceed in such a manner as he deemed best to check and break \ip the movement. Accordingly, by the middle of December, ten boats with stores were arrested on the Muskingum, and in a short time after, four more were seized by the troops at Marietta. Bleunerhassett, Tyler, and about forty others, left the island on the night of December tenth, and sailed down the river, barely escaping arrest by the military authorities of Ohio. On the sixteenth, this party united with one commanded by Davis Floyd, at the Falls, and, ten days after, the whole force joined Burr at the mouth of the Cumber- 146 CONSPIRACY AND TEIAL OF BUEfl. BUBB A2JD HIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS. land ; on the twenty-ninth, the adventur- ers passed Fort Massac. In the meantime, the United States government liad not been inactive. Pres- ident Jefferson's proclamation cautioned all citizens against joining the enterprise, and orders were issued to the United States troops, then stationed along the Ohio and Mississippi, to capture the boats and make prisoners all on board of them, including, of course, the chief conspirator. Ample precaution had likewise been taken by General Wilkinson, for the protection and defense of New Orleans. On the fourth of January, Burr was at Fort Pick- ering, Chickasaw Bluffs ; and soon after at Baj'ou Pierre. But as he approached New Orleans, he found such a state of things in respect to public sentiment and militarj' equipment, as to completely baffle his plans. He accordingly proceeded to the Tombigbee, on his way to Florida, having landed with a single companion on the banks of the Mississippi, in the middle of January. Close pursuit was made of Burr by Lieutenant Edmund P. Gaines, at the head of a file of mounted soldiers, and in a short time they encountered the object of their search, with his traveling companion. Gaines rode forward, and accosting one of the strangers, whom he suspected to be the leader-in-chief, remarked — " I presume, sir, that I have the honor of addressing Colonel Burr." "I am a traveler," answered Burr, "and in a strange land, and do not recognize your right to ask such a question." " / an-est you" responded Gaines, " at the instance of the United States." " By what authority do j'ou arrest me, a stranger, on the highwaj^, on my own private business ? " " I am an officer of the United States arm}-, and hold in my hand the proclama- tion of the president, as w'ell as that of the governor of the Mississippi territory, directing j'our arrest." " But j'ou are a j'oung man, and perhaps not aware of the responsibility of thus arresting a traveler." " I am perfectly aware of my duties, in the premises, and shall endeavor to per- form them." Burr now broke out in a stream of vehe- ment denunciation of the proclamations, CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 147 and warning Gaines that, in carrying out their illegal requisitions, he would be in- curring the most serious liabilities. His manner was firm, his tone imperious, his words keen and forcible ; but the resolute young officer told him his mind was made up, — the prisoner must accompanj' him to his quarters, where he would be treated with all the respect due the ex-vice- president of the United States, so long as he made no attempt to escape. He was then conducted to Fort Stoddart, and thence was conveyed on horseback, in charge of Captain Perkins, to Richmond, Virginia, to be tried by the United States on a charge of high treason, before Chief- Justice Marshall, of the supreme federal court. Strange and rapid were Burr's vicissi- tudes. From being vice-president of the republic, the idol of a powerful and domi- nant party, he had become the slayer of America's greatest statesman, and then a bold and disowned adventurer. Defeated and pursued, he was indeed a hopeless fugitive. When he fled from the authori- ties in the Mississippi territory', he dis- guised himself in a boatman's dress; his pantaloons were of coarse, copperas-dyed cloth, with a roundabout of inferior drab ; his hat, a flapping, wide-brim beaver, had, in times long past, been white, but now gave evidence of having encountered much rough weather. He finally found himself a prisoner, on his way to be arraigned be- fore a jury of his country, for high crimes and misdemeanors. Yet his fascinating power over men's minds was not yet extinguished. On being placed under guard, to be convej'ed to Richmond, it was thought necessary by the directing officer, to take every man composing the squad aside, and obtain the most solemn pledges that, upon the whole route, they would hold no interviews with Burr, nor suffer him to escape alive. His power of fasci- nating and making strong impressions upon the human mind, and attaching men to him by association, could allow of no familiarity. A characteristic incident occurred on the route to Richmond. On reaching the confines of South Carolina, Captain Per- kins watched Burr more closely than ever; for, in this state lived the son-in-law of Burr, Colonel Allston, a gentleman of talents, wealth and influence, and after- wards governor of the state. Upon enter- ing the frontiers of Georgia, Perkins endeavored to convey his prisoner in by-roads, to avoid the towns, lest he should be rescued. The plan was attended with difficulty ; they were often lost — the march impeded — the highway again resumed. Before entering the town of Chester, in South Carolina, the party halted. Two men were placed before Burr, two on either side, and two behind, and, in this manner, they passed near a tavern on the street, where many persons were standing, and music and dancing were heard in the house. Burr conceived it a favorable opportunity for escape, and, suddenly dis- mounting, exclaimed — "I am Aaron Burr, under military arrest, and claim protection of the civil authorities ! " Perkins leaped from bis horse, with several of his men, and ordered him instantly to re-mount. " / ivill not ! " replied Burr. Not wishing to shoot him, Perkins threw down his pistols, and, being a man of prodigious strength, and the prisoner rather small, seized him around the waist and placed him in his saddle, as though he was a child. One of the guards now caught the reins of the bridle, slipped them over the horse's head, and led him rapidly on. The astonished citizens had seen a party enter their village with a prisoner ; had heard him appeal to them for protection ; had witnessed the feat of Perkins ; and the party vanished, before they had time to recover from their confu- sion — for, when Burr dismounted, the guards cocked their pistols, and the people ran within the piazza to escape from danger. Far off in the outskirts of the village, the party again halted. Burr was intensely agitated; the hitherto iron- hearted man was in tears! It was the 148 CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. first time any one had ever seen Aaron Burr unmanned. On trial, at last, the whole United States waited the result with profoundest interest. It was one of the most memora- ble state occasions, in the history of human governments. Upon the bench sat tlie venerated Marshall, calm, dignified, learned. For the prosecution, there ap- peared District Attorney Hay and the renowned William Wirt. For the defend- ant, Luther Martin, Edmund Randolph, John Wickham, Benjamin Botts, and, rivaling all the rest, Burr himself. On the jury were such men as John Randolph and Littleton W. Tazewell. Among the spectators were Commodore Truxton, Gen- erals Eaton and Jackson, Washington Irving, Winfield Scott, William B. Giles, John Ta3dor. Burr was of course the cen- tral figure in this master scene. After a trial lasting three or four weeks in mid- summer, during which the legal exertions and forensic talent and power displayed on both sides were indeed prodigious, the jury returned a verdict, "that Aaron Burr is not proved to be guilty, under the indictment, by any evidence submitted to us ; we, therefore, find him not guilty." The prosecution failed and broke down in its legal proofs, and consequently the indictments against the other conspirators were never pursued. Blennerhassett found himself stripped of his possessions, because of what he had embarked in this calamitou'S expedition. He went to England, in quest of an ap- pointment to office, and to Ireland, to look after some reversionary claims, but unsuc- cessfully in both cases, and, bankrupt and broken-hearted, he removed to the isle of Guernsey, and there died in 1831. Mrs. Blennerhassett died, a few years after, in New York, in the most abject poverty, and was buried by some Irish females. Burr, without friends or fortune, became an exile in Europe, where he lived in ex- treme penury, and everywhere shunned as a felon and outlaw. He was peremptorily ordered by the government of England to quit that realm, beiug regarded as a spy, and, on going to France, was there kept under the closest police surveillance. Re- turning after some j-ears of this kind of life, to his native land, he resumed the profession of the law, but the ban of soci- ety rested upon him, and he was, as he himself expressed it, severed from the rest of mankind. Yet there was one in the wide world who never ceased to pour upon Aaron Burr the richest treasures of woman's adoring love. This was his daughter Theodosia, the beautiful and accomplished wife of Governor Allston, of South Caro- lina. As has been truly said, by one of the many eulogists of this marvelous woman, her love for her father partook of the purity of abetter world, — akin, indeed, to the affec- tion which a celestial spirit might be suj> posed to entertain for a parent cast down from heaven, for sharing in the sin of the ' Son of the Morning.' Thus it was, that, when in the midst of his deepest obloquy, and when the whole world, as it were, looked upon him, abhorrently, as a de- praved monster, the loving and beloved Theodosia could write : " I witness your extraordinary fortitude with new wonder at ever}' new misfortune. Often, after reflecting upon this subject, you appear to me so superior, so elevated CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 149 above all other men; I contemplate j-ou with such a strange mixture of humility, admiration, reverence, love and pride, that very little superstition would be necessary to make me worship you as a superior being; such enthusiasm does j-our character excite in me. A\nien I afterward revert to my- self, how insignificant do my best qualities appear. My vanity would be greater, if I had not been placed so near you ; and yet my pride is our relationship. I had rather not live than not be the daughter of such a man." Never had the worthiest and most vir- tuous of fathers so touching a tribute of love and reverence from a child, as this from the beautiful and gifted Theodosia, to a parent whose very name was regarded by men as the synonym of dishonor and pollution. His love for her, too, was con- stant and unbounded, — a mutual, fervent, enthusiastic love, between the two, that almost passes belief, and which no descrip- tion could adequately characterize. Yet it was the destiny of this man to have torn and swept from him the last and only tie that kept him in sympathy with his kind. Returning from his exile in Europe, to the land where he was still regarded as little else than a fiend in human shape, his heart was buoyed with the expectation of soon clasping to his arms her in whom his earthly all-in-all centered. Alas! he was yet to drain the cup of its nether dregs. Hastening to meet her father on his ar- rival at New York, Theodosia took passage from Charleston, on the 30th of December, in 1812, in the small pilot schooner Patriot, just from a jirivateering cruise. But, though a fine sailer, with the best of offi- cers, the vessel was never seen, nor heard from, after leaving port. Whether the vessel took fire and was thus destroyed with all on board, or foundered in the gale which occurred soon after she left Charles- ton, or was taken by the pirates then infesting the high seas, is unknown to this day. It was a blow which brought inde- scribable dismay and agony to Burr. Utterly bereft and alone, shunned as a murderer, and despised as a plotter against his country, his wretched existence was prolonged to past four-score j'ears, when he went down in loneliness to the grave, "unwept, unhonored, and unsung." Of his accomplished and affectionate daughter, all tongues and pens have unitedly spoken as " Theodosia the beloved." _ XVIII. FULTON'S TmUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO NAVIGATION.— 1807. First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters Under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced by the Exliibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Progress and Power — The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. — His Inventive Projects Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experiments and Trials. — Livingston's Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. — Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative En- couragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of a Steamboat. — The " Queer- Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. — Undaunted Confidence of Fulton. — Sailing of the " New-Fangled Craft." — Demonstrations Along the Route. — Complete Success of the Trip. — First Passage-Money. — That Bottle of Wine. — Opposition Lines, and Racing. — First Steam-boat at the West. — Amazing Subsequent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. "It ifl to the undaunted peraeveronce ond ciertiona of the American Fulton thnt 1b due the everloBting honor of having produced this resolution, both in naval architecture and navigation."— JUBr RtpoKT of the Exiubitio.v or all Njirioss, LowDox, ISOL ITEAM, in its application to the purposes of navigation, was first successfully employed by Robert Fulton, a na- tive of Little Britain, Penusj'lvania. His peculiar genius manifested itself at an early age, in an irrepressible taste for producing drawings and various mechanisms. At the age of twenty-one he was intimate with Franklin. He had previously painted portraits and landscapes in Phila- delphia, and derived considerable profit from the occupa- tion. He subsequently sailed for England, with the view of seeking Mr. West's aid in the prosecution of his art. ^ That great painter took him into his family, at once. In 1793, Mr. Fulton was actively engaged in a project to im- prove inland navigation. Even at that time he had con- ceived the idea of propelling vessels by steam. In 1804 he had acquired much valuable information upon the subject, and written it down, as well as much concern- ing his own life, and sent many manuscripts from Paris to this country, but the vessel was wrecked and most of the p.apers destroyed. About this period, the sub- ject of canals seems to have been the principal object of his attention, although not exclusively. In 1806, Mr. Fulton left Europe for New York, and on his arrival in this country, he immediately commenced his arduous exertions in the cause of practical science. The fertility of his mind in this direction may be understood, when it is stated that, in 1794, he had been engaged by the Duke of Bridgewater in FIRST STEAM-lIOAr 0.\ THE HUDSON. FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 151 canal projects, had adopted and patented the system of inclined planes as a substi- tute for locks, and had written a treatise on canals. He also invented a mill for sawing marble, patented several methods of spinning flax and making ropes, and constructed a torpedo to be used in war, for the destruction of an enemy's vessels. At what time Mr. Fulton's mind was first directed to steam navigation, is not definitely known; but even in 1793, he had matured a jslan in which he reposed great confidence. No one, previously to Mr. Fulton, had constructed a steam-boat /Li^Ay^ :!^^o in any other waj-, or with any otlier result, than as an unsuccessful experiment ; and although many have disputed his right to the honor of the discovery, none have done so with any semblance of justice. Miller's experiments, which simply proved the practicability of the principle of propelling vessels by steam, were made in 1787, in Scotland; but Fulton's boat, which began to navigate the Hudson in 1807, was cer- tainly the first practical demonstration of this application of steam, being five years prior to the success of Henry Bell on the Clyde, and nearly ten j'ears preceding the first attempts on the Thames river, under Brunei's direction. The incompleteness of Fitch's plan is matter of history, though his inventive ingenuity was verj' great. Among those of Fulton's own country- men who had previously made unsuccessful attempts to render the force of steam sub- servient to practical and useful purposes, was Chancellor Livingston, of New York. As early as 1798, he believed that he had accomplished his object, and represented to the legislature of the state of New York, that he possessed a mode of applying the steam engine so as to propel a boat on new and advantageous princip)les; but he was deterred from carrying it into effect, by the uncertainty and hazard of a very expensive experiment, unless he could be assured of an exclusive advantage from it, should it be found successful. The legislature in ]\Larch, 1798, passed an act vesting !Mr. Livingston with the exclusive right and privilege of navigating all kinds of boats which might be propelled bj- the force of fire or steam, on all the waters within the territory or jurisdiction of the state of New York, for a term of twenty years from the passing of the act, — upon condition that he should within a twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean of whose progress should not be less than four miles an hour. The bill was introduced into the house of assembly by Dr. Mitchell, upon which S^^tI!x occasion the wags and the lawyers united their powers in opposition to the bill in such a manner that the good doctor had to encounter all their jokes, and parry all their blows. According to Mr. Livingston's own account of these most interesting circum- stances, it appears that, when residing as minister plenipotentiary of the United States in France, he there met with Mr. Fulton, and they formed that friendship and connection with each other, to which a similarity of pursuits naturally gives birth. He communicated to Mr. Fulton his views of the importance of steam-boats to their common country ; informed him of what had been attempted in America, and of his resolution to resume the pursuit on 152 FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. his return ; and advised him to turn his attention to the subject. It was agreed between them to embaric in the enterprise, and immediately to make such experi- ments as would enable them to determine how far, in spite of former failures, the object was attainable. The princijsal direction of these experiments was left to Mr. Fulton. On the arrival at New York of Mr. Fulton, which was not till 1806, they im- mediately engaged in building a boat of — as was then thought — very considerable dimensions, for navigating the Hudson. This boat, named the Clermont, was of one hundred and sixty tons burden, one hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen feet wide, and seven feet deep. The diameter of the paddle-wheels was fifteen feet, the boards four feet long and dipping two feet in the water. She was a queer- looking craft, and, while on the stocks, excited much attention and no small amount of ridicule. Wlien she was launched, and the steam engine placed in her, that also was looked upon as being of a piece with the boat built to float it. A few had seen one at work raising the IMan- hattan water into the reservoir back of the almshouse ; but, to the people at large, the whole thing was a hidden mj-stery. Curiosity was greatly excited. Nor will the reader be at all surprised at the state- ment made by an eye-witness and narrator of these events, that, when it was an- nounced in the New York papers that the boat would start from Cortlandt street at fix and a half o'clock on Friday morning, the fourth of August, and take passengers to Albany, there was a broad smile on every face, as the inquiry was made, if i::\y one would be fool enough to go? ( )ne friend was heard to accost another in the street with — "John, will thee risk thy life in such a concern ? I tell thee she is the most fear- ful wild fowl living, and thy father ought to restrain thee ! " When Friday morning came, the wharves, piers, house-tops, and every ' coifjne cle vantwje ' from which a sight could be obtained, was filled with specta- tors. There were twelve berths, and every one was taken through to Albany. The fare was seven dollars. All the machinery was uncovered and exposed to view. The periphery of the balance- wheels, of cast iron, some four or more inches square, ran just clear of the water. There were no outside guards, the balance- wheels being supported by their respective shafts, which projected over the sides of the boat. The forward part was covered by a deck, which afforded shelter to the hands. The after-part was fitted up, in a rough manner, for passengers. The en- trance into the cabin was from the stern, in front of the steersman, who worked a tiller, as in an ordinary sloop. Black smoke issued from the chimney; steam issued from every ill-fitted valve and crev- ice of the engine. Fulton himself was there. His remarkably clear and sharp voice was heard above the hum of the mul- titude and the noise of the engine; his step was confident and decided ; he heeded not the fearfulness, doubts, or sarcasm of those by whom he was surrounded. The whole scene combined had in it an individ- uality, as well as an interest, which comes but once and is remembered forever. Everything being ready, the engine was set in motion, and the boat moved steadily but slowly from the wharf : as she turned up the river, and was fairly under way, there arose such a huzza as ten thousand throats never gave before. The passen- gers returned tlie cheer, but Fulton stood upon the deck, his eyes flashing with an un- usual brilliancy as he surveyed the crowd. He felt that the magic wand of success was waving over him, and he was silent. As the boat sailed or steamed bj' West Point, the whole garrison was out, and cheered most lustily. At Newburg, it seemed as if all Orange county was col- lected there ; the whole side-hill city seemed animated with life. Every sail- boat and water-craft was out. The ferry- boat from Fishkill was filled with ladies, but Fulton was engaged in seeing a pas- senger landed, and did not observe the FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 158 boat until she bore up nearly alongside; the flapping of a sail arrested his atten- tion, and, as he turned, the waving of so many handkerchiefs, and the smiles of so In a letter to his friend and patron, Mr. Barlow, Fulton says of this Clermont trial trip : " My steam-boat voyage to Albany and back has turned out rather more many bii>;lit iml U ippN 1 n-is. struck liiiii with surprise, and, raising his hat, he ex- claimed, " That is the finest sight we have seen yet." l';i\Miul.li' than 1 ha.l calculated. The dis- tance to Albany is one Imndred and fifty miles. I ran up in thirty-two hours and down in thirty. The latter is just five 154 FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. miles an hour. I had a light breeze against me the whole way, going and com- ing, so that no use was made cf my sails, and this voyage has been performed whol- ly by the power of the steam engine. I overtook many sloops and schooners beat- ing to the windward, and passed them as if they had been at anchor." Such was the modest description of this greatest of modern inventions. Of peculiar interest and entertainment is the following narrative connected with this historic voyage, from the graphic pen of one who was a personal actor in the scene described: — I chanced to be at Albany on business when Fulton arrived there in his unheard- of craft, which everybody felt so much anxiety to see. Being ready to leave, and hearing that this craft was going to return to New York, I repaired on board and inquired for Mr. Fulton. I was referred to the cabin, and there found a plain, gentlemanly man, wholly alone, and engaged in writing. " Mr. Fulton, I presume." "Yes, sir." " Do you return to New York, with this boat ? " " We .shall try to get back, sir." " Can I have a passage down ? " " You can take your chance with us, sir." I inquired the amount to be paid, and, after a moment's hesitation, a sum, I think six dollars, was named. The amount, in coin, I laid in his open hand, and, with his eye fixed upon it, he remained so long motionless, that I supposed it might be a miscount, and said to him, " Is that right, sir ? " This question roused him as from a kind of reverie, and, as he looked up, the big tear was brimming in his eye, and his voice faltered as he said — " Excuse me, sir ; but memory was busy as I contemplated this, the first pecuniary reward I have ever received for all my exertions in adapting steam to navigation. I should gladly commemorate the occasion over a bottle of wine with you, but really I am too poor even for that, just now; j-et I trust we may meet again, when this will not be the case." Some four j'ears after this (continues the writer of this agreeable reminiscence), when the Clermont had been greatly im- proved and her name changed to the North Kiver, and when two other boats, viz., the Car of Neptune and the Paragon had been built, making Mr. Fulton's fleet consist of three boats regularly plying between New York and Albanj', I took passage upon one of these for the latter city. The cabin in that day was below ; and, as I walked its length to and fro, I saw I was very closely observed by one I supposed a stranger. Soon, however, I recalled the features of Mr. Fulton ; but, without disclosing this, I continued my walk. At length, in pass- ing his seat, our ej-es met, when he sprang to his feet, and, eagerly seizing my hand, exclaimed — '•' I knew it must be j-ou, for j'our feat- ures have never escaped me ; and, although I am still far from rich, j-et I may venture that hottle now ! " It was ordered ; and during its discus- sion Mr. Fulton ran rapidly, but vividly, over his experiences of the world's cold- ness and sneers, and of the hopes, fears, disappointments, and difficulties, that were scattered through his whole career of dis- covery, up to the very point of his final, crowning triumph, at which he so fully felt he had arrived at last. And in reviewing all these matters, he said — " I have again and again recalled the occasion, and the incident, of our first interview at Albany ; and never have I done so without renewing in my mind the vivid emotion it originally caused. That seemed, and does still seem, to me, the turning point in my destiny — the dividing line between light and darkness, in my career upon earth; for it was the first actual recognition of my usefulness to my fellow-men." Even at this earh' period in the emploj-- ment of so dangerous and slightly under- stood a motive power as steam, the rival rj' and diversion of racing was indulged ii.. 1 It was in the month of September, 1809, FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 155 that the exciting and criminal scene of a steam-boat race was first enacted. A com- pany from Albany had been formed for the purpose of competing with Fulton. The first vessel of this opposition line was advertised to leave Albany at the same time as Fulton's. Parties ran high in the hotels of Albany. The partisans of Fulton were enrolled under Professor Kemp, of Columbia College ; those of the opposition under Jacob Stout. The victory was long in suspense ; and it was not until after the thirtieth hour of a hard struggle that the result was proclaimed by Dr. Kemp, on the taffrail of Fulton's vessel, and holding out, in derision, a coil of rope to Captain Stout, for the purpose, as he remarked in so doing, of "towing him into port." When the age, high standing, and sedate character of these two gentlemen are con- sidered, it is not surprising that, in course of time, women at the West learned to devote their bacon to feeding the furnace fires of rival steam-boats. The complete success attending steam navigation on the Hudson and the neigh- boring waters, previous to the year 1S09, turned the attention of the principal pro- jectors to the idea of its application on the western waters ; and in the month of April of that j'ear, Mr. Eoosevelt, of New York, pursuant to an agreement with Chancellor Livingston and Mr. Fulton, visited those rivers, with the purpose of forming an opinion whether they admitted of steam navigation or not. Mr. Roosevelt surveyed the rivers from Pittsburg to New Orleans, and, as his report was favor- able, it was decided to build a boat at the former place. This was done under his direction, and in the year 1811 the first boat was launched on tlie waters of the Ohio. It was called the New Orleans. Late at night, on the fourth day after quitting Pittsburg, they arrived in safety at Louisville, having been seventy hours descending a distance of somewhat more than seven hundred miles. The novel appearance of the vessel, and the fearful rapidity — as it was then regarded — with which it made its j)assage, excited a mix- ture of terror and surprise among many of the settlers on the banks, whom the rumor of such an invention had never reached. Mr. Livingston's former associate in hia experiments with applying steam to this purpose was Mr. John Stevens, of New Jersey, who persevered independently of Fulton and his patron, in various attempts to construct steam-boats. In this enter- prise he was aided by his son, and his prospects of success had become so flatter- ing, that he refused to renew his partner- ship with Livingston, and resolved to trust to his own exertions. Fulton's boat, how- ever, was first ready, and thus secured the grant of the exclusive privilege of the state of New York. The Stevenses were but a few days later in moving a boat with the required velocit}^ Being shut out of the waters of the state of New York, by the jiriority of Livingston and Fulton, Stevens conceived the bold design of conveying his boat to the Delaware by sea ; and this boat, which was so near reaping the honor of first success, was the first to navigate the ocean by steam. One of the most efficient advocates of the new mode of nav- igation by steam was DeWitt Clinton. From the date of Fulton's triumpli in 1807, steam navigation became a fixed fact in the United States, and went on extend- ing with astonishing rafidity. Nor could a different result have been rationally expected in such a country as America. In person, Mr. Fulton was about six feet high, slender form, but finely propor- tioned. Nature had made him a gentle- man, and bestowed upon him ease and gracefulness. A modest confidence in his own worth and talents, gave him an unem- barrassed deportment in all his social intercourse. He expressed himself with energy, fluency, and correctness, and, as he owed more to his own experience and reflections than to books, his sentiments were often interesting from their original- ity. But what was most conspicuous in his character, was his calm constancy, his industry, and that indefatigable patience and perseverance, which always enabled him to overcome difficulties. XIX. EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST.— 1811. Its Convulsive Force Felt all Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast — The Earth Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and Upheavals. — Ruin and Desolation Brought Upon the Inhabitants. — Humboldt's Interesting Opin- ion of the Western Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible Consternation Produced. — The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Aoitation of the Waters. — Houses Buried, Boats Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of tlie Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood, Etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands IJisappear. — Buriid Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New Ones Formed — Present Aspect of the Country — Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness. — Most Serious in San Francisco.— Lives and Property Lost. — Women and Children Panic-Struck. — Direction of the Shocks — Indications of their Approach. — Effect in the Harbor and Bay. " r^ieenaed nature oftentimes breulta forth In8traiik:e eniptiona j and ttie teeming e.rth Is witti n l^ind of folic pincii'd and vex'd Bv the impriaoniog of unruly winds "Witliin l\er womb ; wliich, for enhircement pt-=vi Sliiike th9 old beldame Eartti. and topple duwu Steeples and mos8*grown towers," AFIEU rHK tABTUyUAiE. ^T^ARTHQUAKES in the United States ■ p liave been of comparatively rare occur- rence, so far as any extensive destruction of life and propertj' has been involved. By far the most important of those, prior to the disastrous California earthquakes in 1865 and 1868, was that which took place at New Madrid, in Missouri, below St. Louis, on the Mississippi, in 1811, and which is always spoken of, in that section, as " the great earthquake." Over a region of country three hundred miles in length, from the mouth of the Ohio to that of the St. Francis, the ground rose and sank in great undulations, and lakes were formed, and again drained. Humboldt remarks that it presents one of the few examples of an incessant quaking of the ground for successive months far from anj' volcano. The central point of violence in this remarkable earthquake was thought to bo near the Little Prairie, twenty-five or thirty miles below New Madrid ; the vibra- EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 157 tions from which were felt all over the vallej' of the Ohio, as high up as Pitts- burg. The first shock was felt on the uiglit of December sixteenth, 1811, and was repeated at intervals, with decreasing severity, into February following. New Madrid, having suffered more than any other town on the Mississippi from its effects, was considered as situated near the focus from whence the undulations proceeded. The water of the river, which the day before was tolerably clear, being rather low, changed to a reddish hue, and became thick with mud thrown up from its bottom, while the surface, lashed vehemently by the convulsion of the earth beneath, was covered with foam, which, gathering into masses the size of a barrel, floated along on the trembling surface. The earth on the shores opened in wide fissures, and, closing again, threw the water, sand and mud, in huge jets, higher than the tops of the trees. The atmosphere was filled with a thick vapor or gas, to which the light imparted a purple tinge, altogether differ- ent in appearance from the autumnal haze of an Indian summer, or that of smoke. Prom the temporary che<;k to the current, by the heaving up of the bottom, the sink- ing of the banks and sand-bars into the bed of the stream, the river rose in a few min- utes five or six feet ; and, impatient of the restraint, again rushed forward with redoubled impetuosity, hurrying along the boats, now set loose by the panic-stricken boatmen, as in less danger on the water than at the shore, where the banks threat- ened every moment to destroy them by the falling earth, or carry them down in the vortices of the sinking masses. Many boats were overwhelmed in this manner, and their crews perished with them. Numerous boats were wrecked on the snags and old trees thrown up from the bottom of the Mississippi, where they had quietly rested for ages, while others were sunk or stranded on the sand-bars and islands. At New Madrid, several boats were carried by the reflux of the current into a small stream that puts into the river just above the town, and left on the ground by the returning water a very con- siderable distance from the Mississippi. It is an interesting coincidence, that, at this precise period, the first steam-boat voyage ever made in western waters, added the novelty of its occurrence to the con- vulsions of nature in this region. The name of the steam-boat in question was the New Orleans, commanded by Mr. Eoose- velt. On arriving about five miles above the Yellow Banks, near New Madrid, they moored opposite to a vein of coal on the Indiana side, the coal having been pur- chased some time previously for the steam- er's use. They found a large quantity already quarried to their hand and con- veyed to the shore by depredators, who, however, had not means to carry it off; and with this they commenced loading. While thus engaged, the voyagers were accosted in great alarm by the squatters in the neighborhood, who inquired if they had not heard strange noises on the river and in the woods in the course of the preceding day, and perceived the shores shake — insisting that they had repeatedlj' heard the earth tremble. Hitherto, however, nothing remarkable had been perceived, and the following day they continued their monotonous voyage in those vast sol- itudes. The weather was oppressively hot ; the air misty, still and dull ; and though the sun was visible, like an immense and glowing ball of cojiper, his rays hardly shed more than a mournful twilight on the surface of the water. Evening drew nigh, and with it some indications of what was passing around them became evident, for they ever and anon heard a rushing sound and violent splash, and finally saw large portions of tlie shore tearing away from the land and lapsing into the watery abyss. An eye- witness says : " It was a startling scene — one could have heard a pin drop on deck. The crew spoke but little; they noticed, too, that the comet, for some time visible in the heavens, had suddenly dis- appeared, and every one on board v.as lliur.derstruck." 158 EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. SCEKE OF THE GREAT EABTHQUAKE IN THE TTEST. The second day after leaving the Yellow r.anks, the sun rose over the forests, the same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick, heavy, and oppressive, as before. The portentous signs of this terrible natural convulsion increased. Alarmed and con- fused, the pilot affirmed he was lost — as he found the channel everywhere altered ; and where he had hitherto known deep water, there lay numberless trees with their roots upward. The trees that still remained were seen waving and nodding on the banks, without a wind. The adventurers had of course no choice but to continue their route as best they could, but towards evening they were at a loss for a place of shelter. They had usually brought to, under the shore, but at all points they saw the high banks disappear- ing, overwhelming many an unfortunate craft, from which the owners had landed, in the hope of effecting their escape. A large island in mid-channel, which had been selected by the pilot as the better alternative, was sought for in vain, having totally disappeared, and thousands of acres constituting the surrounding coun- try, were found to have been swallowed up, with their gigantic growth of forest and cane. Thus, in doubt and terror, they pro- ceeded hour after hour, until dark, when they found a small island, and rounded to, mooring at the foot of it. Here they lay, keeping watch on deck, during the long night, listening to the sound of the waters which roared and whirled wildly around them — hearing, also, from time to time, the rushing earth slide from the shore, and the commotion of the falling mass as it became engulfed in the river. The lady of the party was frequently awakened from her restless slumber, by the jar of the furniture and loose articles in the cabin, as in the course of the night the shock of the passing earthquake was com- municated to the bows of the vessel. The morning dawned and showed they were near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores and channel were now equally unrecogniz- able — everything seemed changed. About noon that daj' they reached New Madrid. Here the inhabitants were in the greatest consternation and distress. Part of the population had fled for their lives to the higher grounds ; others prayed to be taken on board the steamer, as the earth was opening in fissures on every side, and their houses hourly falling around them. Pro- ceeding thence they found the Mississippi, EARTHQUAKE AT THE "WEST. 150 at all times a fearful stream, unusually swollen, turbid, and full of trees, and after many days of extreme danger, finally reached Natchez. After shaking the valley of the Mis- sissippi to its center, the earthquake vibrated along the courses of the rivers and valleys, and, passing the primitive mountain barriers, died away along the shores of the Atlantic ocean. In the region of its greatest force, and pending the tremendous elemental strife which finally ensued, the current of the Missis- sippi was driven back from its source with appalling velocity for several hours, in con- sequence of an elevation of its bed. But the noble river was not thus to be stayed in its course. Its accumulated waters came booming on, and, overtopping the barrier thus suddenly raised, carried every thing before them with resistless power. Boats, then floating on its surface, shot down the declivity like an arrow from a bow, amid roaring billows and the wildest disorder. A few days' action of its power- ful current sufficed to wear away every vestige of the barrier thus strangely inter- posed, and its waters moved on in their wonted channel to the ocean, seemingly rejoicing in their triumph over the oppos- ing elements and forces. The day that succeeded this night of dread brought no solace in its dawn. Shock followed shock ; a dense black cloud of vapor overshadowed the land, through which no struggling sunbeam found its way to cheer the desponding heart of man. The appearances that presented themselves after the subsidence of the principal com- motion were indeed staggering to the beholder. Hills had disappeared, and lakes were found in their stead ; numerous lakes became elevated ground, over the surface of which vast heaps of sand were scattered in every direction; while in many places the earth for miles was sunk below the general level of the surrounding country, without being covered with water, — leaving an impression in miniature of a catastrophe much more important in its effects, which had, perhaps, preceded it ages before. One of the lakes thus formed is sixty or seventy miles in length, and from three to twenty miles in breadth ; it is also in some places very shallow, and in others from iifty to one hundred feet deep, which latter is much more than the depth of the Mississippi river in that quarter. In sailing over its surface, one is struck with astonishment at beholding the gigan- tic trees of the forest standing partially exposed amid the waste of waters, branch- less and leafless, like gaunt, mysterious monsters. But this wonder is still further increased on casting the eye on the dark- blue profound, to witness cane-brakes cov- ering its bottom, over which a mammoth species of tortoise is occasionally seen drag- ging its slow length along, while countless millions of fish are sporting through the aquatic thickets, — the whole constituting one of the most remarkable features in American scenery and topography. The lost hills or islands before mea- tioned are of various extent ; some twenty or thirty miles in circumference, others not so large, and some are even diminutive in size, but of great altitude ; occasionally furnished with fountains of living water, and all well timbered. The low grounds are in the form of basins, connected by openings or hollows ; these, not being as deep as the bottom of their reservoirs, it happens that, when an inundation takes place, either from the Mississippi river or streams issuing from the surrounding highlands, they are filled to overflowing — and, when the waters recede below a level with these points of communication, they become stagnant pools, passing off by the process of infiltration, which is very slow, in a thick, black, tenacious Icam, or by evaporation equally gradual, in a country covered by forests and impenetrable jungle. At New Madrid and its vicinity, the earth broke into innumerable fissures; the church-yard, with its dead, was torn from the bank and embosomed in the turbid stream; and in many places, the gaping earth unfolded its secrets, — the bones ci the gigantic mastodon and ich- thyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for 160 EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. ages, being brought to the surface. Even at the present day, frequent slight shocks of earthquake are tliere felt, and it is asserted that, in the vast swamp at the back of the town, strange sounds may at times be heard, as of some mighty cauldron seething and bubbling in the bowels of the earth. Flint, the geographer, who visited the country seven j'ears after the event, says that, at the time of his visit, a district west of New Madrid still remained cov- ered with water, and that the neighboring forest presented a scene of great confusion. He also saw hundreds of deep chasms re- maining in the alluvial soil, which were produced, according to the inhabitants, by the bursting of the earth, which rose in great undulations, and discharged prodig- ious volumes of water, sand, and coaly matter, thrown up to a great height. As the shocks lasted throughout a period of three months, the country people remarked that, in particular districts, there were certain prevailing directions in which the fissures opened, and they accordingly felled the tallest trees, making (hem fall at right angles to the direction of the chasms. By stationing themselves on these, the inhabitants often escaped being swallowed up when the earth opened beneath them. During the visit of Sir Charles Lyell to this region, in 1846, Mr. Bringier, the well-known engineer, related to him that he was on horseback near New Madrid, in 1811, when some of the severest shocks were experienced, and that, as the waves advanced, he saw the trees bend down, and often, the instant afterward, when in the act of recovering their position, meet the boughs of other trees similarly inclined, so as to become interlocked, being prevented from righting themselves again. The transit of the wave through the woods was marked by the crashing noise of countless branches, first heard on one side and then on the other. At the same time, powerful jets of water, mixed with sand, loam and bituminous shale, were cast up with such impetuosity, that both horse and rider might have perished, had the swelling and upheaving ground happened to burst im- mediately beneath them. Some of the shocks were perpendicular, while others, much more desolating, were horizontal, or moved along like great waves ; and where the principal fountains of mud and water were thrown up, circular cavities, called sink-holes, were formed. Hearing that some of these cavities still existed near the town, Professor Ljell went to see one of them, three-quarters of a mile to the westward. There he found a nearly circular hollow, ten yards wide, and five feet deep, with a smaller one near it, and, scattered about the surrounding level ground, were fragments of black bituminous shale, with much white sand. Within a distance of a few hundred yards, were five more of these " sand-bursts," or " sand-blows," as they are sometimes termed, and, about a mile farther west, there is still pointed out " the sink-hole where the negro was drowned." It is a striking object, interrupting the regularitj' of a flat plain, the sides very steep, and twentj'-eight feet deep from the top to the water's edge. In the interesting account of this region and of the event in question, furnished by Professor Lyell, in his book of travels, he relates the reminiscences of a citizen of New Madrid, who witnessed the earth- quake when a child. He described the camping out of the people in the night when the first shocks occurred, and how some were wounded by the falling of chim- neys, and the bodies of others drawn out of the ruins ; and confirmed the published statements of the inhabitants having availed themselves of fallen trees to avoiii being engulfed in open fissures, — a singu- lar mode of escape, which, curiously enough, had been adopted spontaneously in different and widely-distant places, at the same time, even little children throw- ing themselves thus on the felled trunks. Lyell was then invited to go and see sev- eral fissures still open, which had been caused by the undulatory movement of the ground, some of them jagged, others even EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 161 and straight. Two of them were traced continuously for more than half a mile, and a few were found to be parallel ; but, on the whole, they varied greatly in direc- tion, some being ten and others forty-five degrees west of north. They might easily have been mistaken for artificial trenches, though formerly as deep as wells ; the action of rains, frost, and occasional inun- dations, and, above all, the leaves of the forest blown into them in countless num- bers, have done much to fill them up. In that part of the forest which borders what is called the "sunk country," all the trees of a date prior to 1811, although standing erect and entire, are dead. They are most noticeable objects, are chiefly oaks and walnuts, with trunks several feet in diameter, and many of them more than two hundred years old. They are sup- posed to have been killed by the loosening of the roots during the repeated undula- tions which passed through the soil for three months in succession. The higher level plain, where these dead monarchs of the forest stand, terminates abruptly newer tlian 1812. The " sunk country " extends along the course of the White Water and its tributaries for a distance of between seventy and eighty miles north and south, and thirty miles east and west. It is not, however, confined to the region west of the Mississippi ; for several exten- sive forest tracts in Tennessee were sub- merged during the shocks of 1811-12, and have ever since formed lakes and swamps. The earthquakes in California, especially those which occurred in 1865 and 1868, and both in the month of October, were the most disastrous in respect to the value of property destroj-ed, that of October 21, 1868, being particularly so. At San Francisco, the motion was east and west, and several buildings on Pine, Battery, and Sansome streets were thrown down, and a considerable number badly damaged. The ground settled, which threw the build- ings out of line. The jirincipal damage was confined to the lower portion of the city, below Montgomery street, and among old buildings on the made ground. The EARTlIyrAKE SCENE I>; SAN FRANCISCO. toward the bayou St. John, and the sudden descent of eight or ten feet throughout an area four or five miles long, and fifty or sixty broad, was one of the strange results of the earthquake. At the lower level are seen cypresses and cotton-wood, and other trees which delight in wet ground, all 11 custom-house, a brick building erected on pile ground, which was badly shattered in the earthquake of 1865, had now to be abandoned as unsafe. Business in the lower part of the city was suspended, the streets were thronged with people, and great excitement prevailed. The parapets, 162 EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. walls and rliimneys of a number of houses fell, causing loss of life and many accidents. At one place, the ground opened several inches wide and about forty or fifty feet long ; and in other places, the ground opened, and water forced itself above the surface. The water in the bay was per- fectly smooth at the time of the occurrence, and no perceptible disturbance took place there ; the shock was felt aboard the sliip- ping in the harbor, as if the vessels had struck upon the rocks. The morning was moderately warm, and a dense fog covered the city. Not the slightest breeze was perceptible. The first indication of the approach of the earthquake was a slight rumbling sound, as of something rolling along the sidewalk, coming apparently from the direction of the ocean. The shock commenced in the form of slow, hor- izontal movements, while the movements of the great earthquake of 1865 were per- pendicular. The effect on buildings, too, of the earthquake of 1868, was widely dif- ferent from that of 1865. In the latter, glass was broken and shivered into atoms in all the lower parts of the citj', by the perpendicular oscillations, while compara- tively few walls were shaken down or badly shattered. The earthquake of 1868 broke very little glass, but the damage by the falling of cornices, awnings, and walls, was immense. Mantel ornaments and shelved crockery were everywhere thrown down and broken ; top-heavy articles of furniture tumbled over ; tanks and dishes containing water or other liquids slopped their contents; clocks stopped running; door -bells rang ; tall structures, like steeples and towers, were seen to sway, and the motion of the earth under the feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers; horses started and snorted, e.xhibiting every sign of fear, and in some cases dash- ing off furiously with their riders; dogs crouched, trembling and whining ; aiMl fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes oi alarm. The panic among women and children was, for a time, excessive, ana their cries and tears were very moving. At Oakland, the shock was very severe, throwing down chimnej-s, and greatly damaging buildings ; in several localities, the ground opened, and a strong suljihu- rous smell was noticed after the shock. The court-house at San Leandro was demolished and one life lost. At Saa Jose, several buildings were injured. The large brick court-house at Redwood City was completely wrecked. The shock was light at Mar^'sville and Sonora, and severe at Grass Valley. It was also felt, with a good deal of severity, in Stockton, Sonoma, San Lorenzo, Alvarado, San Mateo, Peta- luma, Vallejo, and Sacramento; in the latter place, flag-staffs and trees vibrated ten feet, and the water in the river rosa and fell a foot and a half. XX. AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH OTHER IN SQUADRON COMBAT.— 1813. Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter— Sixteen Vessels Eneaged.— The Rritish, under Captain Bar clay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Superior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry .—Every British Vessel Captured —General Harrison Completes the Victorious Work on Land —Building of the Fleet on the Lake.— Great Difficulties to be Overcome.— Commodore Perry the Master Spirit.— Completion and Sailing of the Fleet.— Challenge to the Enemy— Line of Battle Formed.- Perry's Blue Union-Jack.— Its Motto, " Don't Give Up the Ship ! "—Wild Enthusiasm of his Men.— Flagship Lawrence in the Van —Meets the Whole Opposing yieet— Badly Crippled in a T\\o Hours' Fight.— Huzzas of the Enemy —The Day Supposed to be Tlieirs —Indomitable Resolution of Perry.— He Puts OflFin an Open Boat —Reaches the Niagara with His Flag.— Again Battles with the Foe.— Severe and Deadlv Conflict.— American I'rowess Invincible. —Barclay Strikes His Colors.— Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old. »Wehavcmcttheeiitmy.«ndthey.reour..--rLKliTS MtM.)B*Iil.E Dispatch Assou»c1no U:s VicioET, fOREIGN nations, who still smiled incredulously at the pre- tensions of the United States in carrying on an ocean war- ^; fare with the proud "mistress of the seas,"— as England was everywhere acknowledged to be, — were now to receive, in addition to the splendid victory of the United States 0,S^--. frigate Constitution over the Guerriere, fresh and decisive PERRY'S FLAG ON LAKE ERIE, proof of thc naval supremacy of the youthful republic, in the magnificent triumph achieved by Commodore Oliver H. Perry, on the waters of Lake Erie. Here, for the first time in the history of the western world, the flag of a British squadron was struck, humiliatingly, to the Americans. Great Britain had already been signally defeated in single naval combats, during the present contest; she was now beaten in squadron, — every one of her ships striking their colors to the stars and stripes. The unexpected and disgraceful surrender of the northern army under General Hull, to the British, rendered a superior force on Lake Erie necessary for the de- fense of the American territory bordering on the lake, as well as for offensive opera- tions in Canada. Under these circumstances Oliver H. Perry, a brave and accom- plished young officer, who had the command of a gunboat flotilla for the defense of New York, was designated to the command on Lake Erie. But, at this time, the United States possessed no naval force on the lake ; the only vessels belonging to the government were captured at Detroit. The southern or American lake shore, being principally a sand beach formed by the sediment driven by the northerly 164 THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. winds, afforded but few harbors, and those encumbered with bars at their entrance. At Presque Isle, ninety miles west of Buf- falo, a peninsula extending a considerable distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on the borders of which was the port of Erie. At this place. Commodore Perry was directed to locate, and superintend a naval establishment, the object of which was to create a superior force on the Like. The difficulties of building a navy in the \t:.- derness can only be conceived by those who have experienced them. There was nothing at this spot out of which it could be built, but the timber of the forest. Ship-builders, sailors, naval stores, guns, and ammunition, were all to be transported by land, in wagons, and over bad roads, a distance of four hundred miles, either from Albany by the way of Buffalo, cr from Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg. But under all these embarrassments, ty the first of August, 1813, Commodore Perry had provided a flotilla, consisting of the ships Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty guns each, and seven smaller vessels, to wit, one of four guns, one of three, two of two, and three of one. While the ships were building, the enemy frequently appeared otf the harbor and threatened their destruction ; but the shallowness of the water on the bar, there being but five feet, prevented their ap- proach. The same cause, which insured the safety of the vessels while building, seemed likely to prevent their being of any service when completed. The two largest drew several feet more water than there was on the bar. The inventive genius of Perry, however, soon surmounted this difficulty. He placed large scows on each side of these two, filled them so that they sank to the water-edge, then attached them to the ships by strong pieces of timber, and pumped out the water. The scows, in this way, buoyed up the shijjs, enabling them to pass the bar in safety. This operation was performed in the very eyes of the enemy. Having gotten his fleet in readiness. Commodore Perry proceeded to the head of the lake and anchored in Put-in Bay, opposite to and distant thirty miles from Maiden, where the British fleet lay under the guns of the fort. He remained at anchor here several days, watching the British fleet, and waiting a chance to offer battle. On the morning of the tenth of Septem- ber, 1813, the enemy was discovered bear- ing down upon the American force, which immediately got under weigh, and stood out to meet him. Perry had nine vessels, consisting of the Lawrence, his flag-ship, of twenty guns ; the Niagara, Captain Elliott, of twenty ; the Caledonian, Lieu- tenant Turner, of three; the schooner Ariel, of four ; the Scorpion, of two ; the Somers, of two guns and two swivels ; the sloop Trippe, and schooners Tigress and Porcupine, of one gun each. The force of the British consisted of the Detroit, flag-ship of Commodore Barclay, and carrj'ing nineteen guns and two how- itzers ; the Queen Charlotte, Captain Finnis, of seventeen guns ; the schooner Lady Prevost, Lieutenant Buchan, of thirteen guns and two howitzers ; the brig Hunter, of ten guns ; the sloop Little Belt, of three guns ; and the schooner Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels. Thus, the belligerents stood, in respect to force and power, as follows : The Ameri- cans had nine vessels, carrying fifty-four guns and two swivels ; the British, six vessels, carrying sixty-three guns, four howitzers, and two swivels. Commodore Perry got under way with a light breeze at the south-west. Sum- moning his commanding officers by signal to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them in a few words their last instructions pre- paratory to the approaching battle, and, unfolding his union-jack, a blue flag upon which was inscribed in white letters the motto of the American navy, "Don't GIVE lip THE SHIP ! " The sight of this flag, bearing upon it the d^'ing words of the brave Captain Lawrence, brought the most enthusiastic cheers from the crew. As the officers were about taking their leave. Perry declared that it was his THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. ItiO intention to bring the enemy to close quar- ters from the first, and that he could not advise them better than in the words of Lord Nelson — " If 30U lay your enemy close alongside, you can not be out of your place." As soon, therefore, as the ap- laroach of the enemy warranted the display of the signal, every vessel was under sail, beating out against a light head-wind, and with the boats ahead towing. The object was, .to beat to the windward of the islands which now interposed between the two approaching squadrons, and, thus gain- ing the weather-gauge, to bear down with that important advantage upon the foe. The wind, however, was light and bafHing; and Perry's patience was so severely tried by the incessant tacking, that, seeing time lost, and but little progress made, he called out to his sailing-master, — "Taylor, you wear ship and run to the leeward of the islands." " Then we'll have to engage the enemy from the leeward," exclaimed Taylor. "I don't care — to windward or to lee- ward, they shall fight to-daij," was Perry's instant response. He now formed the line of battle, the wind suddenly shifting to the south-east, thus bearing the squadron clear of the islands, and enabling it to keep the weather-gauge. But the moderateness of the breeze caused the hostile squadrons to approach each other but slowly, thus pro- longing the solemn interval of suspense and anxiety which precedes a battle. The order and regularity of naval discipline heightened the dreadful quiet of this impressive prelude. No noise, no bustle, prevailed to distract the mind — except, at inter'fals, the shrill pipings of the boat- swain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper among the men, who stood in groups around their guns, with lighted matches, narrowly watching the movements of the foe, and sometimes stealing a glance at the countenances of their commanders. In this manner, the opposing fleets graduallj' neared each other in awful silence. Even the sick felt a thrill of the pervading deep emotion, and, with fancied renewal of strength, offered their feeble services in the coming conflict. To one of these poor fellows, who had crawled ujs on deck, to have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master said: " Go below. Mays, j'ou are too weak to be here." " I can do something, sir," rej)lied the brave old tar. " What can you do ? " " I can sound the pump, sir, and let a strong man go to the guns." It was even so. He sat down by the pump, and sent the strong man to the guns; and when the fight was ended, there he was found, with a ball in his heart. He was from Newport; his name, Wilson Mays ; his monument and epitaph, the grateful memory of a whole nation. As they were coming nearer and nearer the British fleet (says Dr. Tomes, in his admirable delineation of this battle), and by twelve o'clock would certainly be in the midst of action, the noondaj'-grog was served in advance, and the bread-bags freely emptied. In a moment after, how- ever, every man was again at quarters. Perry now went round the deck, from gun to gun, stopping at each, carefully exam- ining its condition, and passing a cheerful word with the "captain." Recognizing some of the old tars who had served on board the Constitution, he said, " Well, boys ! are you ready ? " " All ready, 166 THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. your honor ! " was the promjtt replj', as they touched their tarijaulins, or the hand- kerchiefs in which some of thetn had wrapped their heads, that they might be as unencumbered as possible for the fight. "But I need not say anything to you," rejoined their commander — "?/o« know how to beat these fellows" — and he passed on. His face now beamed with a smile of friendly interest as lie recognized some of his fellow-townsmen, exclaiming, " Ah, here are the Newport boys ! They will do their duty, I warrant." At fifteen minutes after eleven, a bugle was sounded on board the enemy's head- most ship, the Detroit, loud cheers burst from all their crews, and a tremendous fire opened upon the Lawrence, from the British long-guns, and which, from the shortness of the Lawrence's, the latter was obliged to sustain for some forty minutes, without being able to return a shot. Losing no time in waiting for the other ships, Commodore Perry kept on his course in such gallant and determined style, that the enemy supposed he meant immediately to board. At about twelve o'clock, having gained a more favorable position, the Law- rence opened her fire, but the long-guns of the British still gave them greatly the advantage, and the Lawrence was exceed- ingly cut up, without being able to do much of any damage in return. Their shot pierced her side in all directions, even killing the men in the berth-deck and steerage, where they had been carried to be dressed. One shot had nearlj' produced a fatal explosion ; passing through the light room, it knocked the snuff of the candle into the magazine — but which was fortunately seen by the gunne-, who had the presence of mind immediately to seize and extinguish it. It appeared to be the enemy's plan at all events to destroy the commander's ship ; their heaviest fire was directed against the Lawrence, and blazed incessantly from all their largest vessels. Finding the peculiar and imminent hazard of his situation, Perry made all sail, and directed the other vessels to follow, for the purpose of closing with the enemy. The tremendous fire, however, to which he was exposed, soon cut away every brace and bowline of the Lawrence, and she became unmanageable. The other vessels were unable to get up ; and in this disastrous situation, therefore, she still continued to sustain the main force of the enemy's fire, within canister distance, though, during a considerable part of this terrible ordeal, not more than two or three of her guns could be brought to bear with any material effect upon her antagonist. Throughout all this scene of ghastly horror, however, the utmost order and reg- ularity prevailed, without the least sign of trepidation or faintheartedness ; as fast as the men at the guns were wounded, they were quietly carried below, and others stepped manfully into their places ; the dead remained where they fell, until after the action. At this juncture, the enemy believed the battle to be won. The Lawrence was reduced to a mere wreck ; her deck was streaming with blood, and covered with the mangled limbs and bodies of the slain, nearlj' the whole of her crew were either killed or wo\mded; her guns, too, were dismounted, — the commodore and his offi- cers personally working the last that was capable of service, assisted by the few hands yet remaining capable of duty. According to the account given by Dr. Parsons, the surgeon of the Lawrence, the muscular material was reduced to its abso- lute minimum. "When the battle had raged an hour and a lialf," says Dr. Par- sons, " I heard a call for me at the small skylight, and, stepping toward it, I saw it was the commodore, whose countenance was calm and placid as if on ordinary duty. ' Doctor,' said he, ' send me one of your men,' — meaning one of the six that were to assist me ; which was done in- stantly. In five minutes the call was repeated and obeyed ; and at the seventh call, I told him he had them all. He asked if any could pull a rope, when two or three of the wounded crawled upon deck to lend a feeble hand in pulling at the last guns." So close and desperate was this THE FIEST SQUADRON COMBAT. 16: ■' «j conflict; so brave and courageous tlie hearts of those who fought for tlie honor and rights of America. It was two o'clock, and Caiitain Elliott, of the Niagara, was enabled by the aid of a fresh breeze to bring his ship into close action in gallant stj'le. Finding, now, that no resistance or hostility on the part of the Lawrence could be profitably per- sisted in, Perry suddenly formed the determination to shift his flag to Elliott's ship; and, leaving his own vessel in charge of her lieutenant, the brave and gallant Yarnall, he liauled down his union-jack, and, taking it under his arm, ordered a boat to jiut hini on board the Niagara. He passed the line of tlie enemy, exposed to a perfect shower of tjieir musketry, still standing in the boat, — waving liis sword ami gallantly cheering his men, — a nnrked and pointed oliject from three of the enemy's ships, until he was forcibly pulled down by his own men. He arrived safe, and tumultuous huzzas rent the air as he again unfurled and hoisted aloft his union-jack, with its inspiring motto, 'Don't give up the ship ! ' gaily kissing the breeze. On seeing their noble commander step upon the deck of the Niagara, the crew of the Lawrence — the few that j'et remained — sent up three lusty cheers. The question with which Elliott first saluted Perry was — " How is the day going ? " " Badly ! " was the brief reply ; "and do you see those infernal gun-boats — they have lost us the victorj' ! " "No!" exclaimed Elliott; "do you take command of this ship, and I will bring up the boats." Elliott at once put off, to bring up the schooners which had been 168 THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. kept back by the lightness of the wind. At this moment, the flag of the Lawrence was hauled down. Lieutenant Yarnall, upon whom the command of the vessel devolved after the commodore left her, refused for some time to leave the deck, though more than once wounded; and Lieutenant Brooks and Midshipman Saul were both killed. As the surgeon was stooping, in the act of dressing or examin- ing a wound, a ball passed through the ship a few inches from his head, which, had it been erect, must have been taken off. The principal force of the enemy's fire had now been sustained uninterruptedly by the Lawrence, and, as she was rendered totally incapable of defense, any further show of resistance would have been a use- less sacrifice of the remnant of her brave and mangled crew. The enemy were at the same time so crippled, that they were unable to take possession of her, and cir- cumstances soon enabled her crew again to raise the American flag. Commodore Perry now gave the signal to all the vessels for close action. The small vessels, under the direction of Elli- ott, got out their sweeps, and made all sail. On an inspection of the Niagara, and finding her but little injured, Perry determined upon the bold and desperate expedient of breaking the enemy's line ; he accordingly bore up and passed the head of the two ships and brig, giving them a raking fire from liis starboard guns, and also a raking fire upon a large schooner and sloop, from his larboard quarter, at half pistol shot. Having brought the whole squadron into action, Perry luffed up and laid his ship alongside of the British commodore, Barclay, of the Lady Prevost. Approach- ing within half pistol shot, Perry's fire was so destructive that the enemy's men were compelled to run below. At this moment the wind freshened, and the Cal- edonia came up and opened her fire upon the British ; and several others of the squadron were enabled soon after to do the same, — the small vessels having now got up within good grape-and-canister distance on the other quarter, inclosed their enemy between them and the Niag- ara, and in this position kept up a most deadly fire on both quarters of the British. For a time, the combat raged with inde- scribable violence and fury. The result of a campaign — the command of a sea — the glory and renown of two rival nations matched for the first time in squadron, — these were the issues at stake which in- spirited the combatants. The contest was not long doubtful. The Queen Charlotte having lost her captain and all her princi- pal officers, by some mischance ran foul of her colleague, the Detroit. By this acci- dent, the greater jjart of their guns were rendered useless, and the two ships were now in turn compelled to sustain an inces- sant fire from the Niagara and the other vessels of the American squadron. The flag of Captain Barclay soon struck ; and the Queen Charlotte, the Lady Prevost, the Hunter, and the Chippewa, surren- dered in immediate succession. The Little Belt attempted to escape, but was pursued by two gun-boats, and captured. Tims, after a contest of three hours, was a naval victory achieved by the Americans, in which every vessel of the enemy was captured. If anything could enhance its brilliancy it was the modest and laconic manner in which, Ctesar-like, it was announced by the gallant victor — "we have met the enemy, and thet ARE OURS ! " The carnage in this action v. as very great in proportion to the numbers en- gaged. The Americans had twenty-seven killed, and ninety-six wounded. The loss of the British was about two hundred in killed and wounded, many of these being officers ; and the prisoners, amounting to six hundred, exceeded the whole number of Americans. Commodore Barclay, a gallant sailor, one of whose arms had been shot off at the battle of Trafalgar, under Lord Nelson, was severely wounded in the hip, and lost the use of his remaining arm. Perry was but twenty-seven years old, and had scarcely recovered from an attack of the lake-fever, when he thus ' met the THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 169 enemy,' — a circumstance that heightens the estimate to be put upon his indomita- ble perseverance and bravery on this occa- sion. To his adroit transfer of his com- mand to the Niagara, passing through the thickest of the battle in an open boat, may fairly be attributed his brilliant fortune on that eventful day. His success raised him to the very pinnacle of professional renown, and the naval supremacy of the United States upon the lakes was tri- umphantly secured. This important and decisive battle was fought midway of the lake, between the two hostile armies, who lay on the oppo- site shores, waiting in anxious expectation of its result, — the allied British and Indian forces, to the amount of nearly five thou- sand, under Proctor and Tecuniseh, being ready, in case of a successful issue, to renew their ravages on the American borders. The fruits of this victory, there- fore, were such as to cause unbounded demonstrations of joy in the United States. All party-feelings were for the time for- gotten ; and the glorious occurrence was celebrated by illuminations and festivities, from one end of the continent to the other. During this same year, our gallant navy was victorious in the capture of the slooj>- of-war Peacock, by Captain James Law- rence ; and in the capture of the brig Boxer, by the Enterprise, commanded by Lieutenant Barrows. The British, how- ever, on the first of June, rejoiced in the capture of the Chesapeake by the frigate Shannon, off Boston harbor, and, on the fourteenth of August, in the capture of the Argus, Captain Allen, by the Pelican. The British were also victorious on land, at the battles of Mackinaw, Queenstown, Frenchtown, and some other points ; but lost the battles of York, Fort Meigs, and the Thames. The proposed invasion of Canada, under the direction of Generals Dearborn, Wilkinson, Hampton, Lewis, and Izard, proved a failure. Such a vic- tory, therefore, as that of Perry, was well calculated to Jill the nation irith jo;/. The struggle being ended, and Perry acquainting himself with the condition and wants of the several vessels and their crews, at last visited the shattered remains of the Lawrence. The deck was slip- pery with blood and brains, and strewed with the bodies of officers and men, and the ship resounded everywhere with the groans of the wounded. Those of the crew who were spared and able to walk or limp, approached the gallant captain with tears in their ej'es, and with outstretched arms of welcome ; but the salutation was a silent one on both sides, — so overcome with emotion were the hearts of these brave men, that not a word could find iitterance. The principal loss in the whole action was on board the Lawrence, so indomitable was Perry's resolution not to be conquered. In memory of this he- roic service to his country, there was erected in 1860, at Cleveland, Ohio, near the scene of his great battle, a marble statue b^' Walcutt. Two days after the battle, two Indian chiefs who had been selected for their skill as marksmen, and stationed in the tops of the Detroit for the purpose of pick- ing off the American officers, were found snugly stowed away in the hold- of that ship. These savages, who had been ac- customed to vessels of no greater magni- tude than what they could sling upon their backs, when the action became warm, were so panic-struck at the terrors of the scene and at the strange perils surround- ing them, that, looking at each other in amazement, they vociferated their signifi- cant ' Quonth ! ' and precipitately de- scended to the hold. In their British uniforms, hanging in bags upon their fam- ished bodies, they were now brought be- fore Commodore Perry, fed, and discharged, — no further parole being necessary to prevent their ever engaging again in a similar contest. The slain of the crews of both squadrons were committed to the lake immediately after the action; and, the next day, the funeral obsequies of the American and British officers who had fallen, were per- formed at an opening on the margin of the bay, in an appropriate and affecting 170 THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT, manner. The crews of both fleets united in the ceremony. The autumnal stillness of the weather — the procession of boats — the music — the slow auJ regular motion of the oars, striking in exact time with the notes of the solemn dirge — the mournful waving of the flags — the sound of the minute-guns from all the ships — the wild and solitary aspect of the place ; — .all these gave to this funeral ceremonial a most impressive influence, in striking contrast with the terrible conflict of the preceding day. Two American and three British officers were interred side by side of each other, in this lonely jjlace of sepulture, on the margin of the lake, a few paces from the beach. In liis official dispatch. Perry speaks in the highest terms of the co-operation, bravery and judgment, of his associate, Captain Elliott. Nevertheless, there is universal agreement with the assertion made bj' Mackenzie, the appreciating biog- rapher of this heroic commander, that the battle of Erie was won not merelj' by the genius and inspiration, but eminently by the exertions, of one man, — a young man of twenty-seven, who had never beheld a naval engagement. He had dashed boldly into action with the Lawrence, trusting that the rear of his line would soon be able to close up to his support. Sustained, however, only by the Caledonia, the Ariel, and the Scorpion, he resisted for two hours or more the whole of the British squadron. Overcome at last, Perry made a new ar- rangement of his remsininc resources, and snatched from the enemy, with desperate obstinacy, a victory which that enemy had already claimed with exulting cheers for his own. This he accomplished by an evolution unsurpassed for genius and hard- ihood, bearing down with dauntless assur- ance upon the whole of the opposing fleet, and dashing with his fresh and uninjured vessel through the enemy's line, to their dismay and complete discomfiture. And this victory on the lake was so much the more important from its enabling General H.arrison to recover from the British in- vaders the American territorj- which they had occupied, and to pursue them into Canada, where, on the fifth of October, they were totally routed in tlie battle of the Thames. Nearly all the British force was either captured or slain, and their famous Indian ally, Tecumseh, here ended his life. XXI. GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT AND SLAUGHTER OF THE BRITISH ARMY AT NEW ORLEANS.— 1815. His Consummate Generalsliip in the Order anJ ConJuct of tliis Campaign.— The War with England Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms— Jackson is Hailed as One of tlie Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country.- National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle —British Invasion of Louisiana.— Prepar- ations to Resist Them— Jackson Hastens to New Orleans— His Presence Inspires Confidence.— Martial Law Proclaimed.— Progress of the British Forces— They Rendezvous at Ship Island.- Pirates and Indians for Allies.— Capture of the United States Flotilla.— Arrival of Veterans from Kngland— Desperate Attempts at Storming.— Both Armies Face Each Other.— The Day of Action, January Eighth.— General Pakenham Leads the Charge.— His Motto, " Booty and Beauty."— Fire and Death Open Upon Them.— They are Mown Down Like Grass.— Pakenham Falls at the Onset. —Panic and Precipitate Retreat —America's Motto, " Victory or Death."— The Result at Home and Abroad — Startling and Impressive Effect. •• The redcoots will find out whom they have to deal with. I will Bnia.h them, eo help me OodP'-GBHEEAI. J.1CK90X, OK ASsaalMO TDE DEFENSE OF NKW OllLKA.VS. AMERICAN DI:Fl;^SE3 AT NEW ORLEANS T is a fact fruitful of the most suggestive reflections, that, had the facilities of communication by steam and electricity been enjoyed in 1815, as they are at the present time, the battle of New Orleans, and the blood which flowed so freely on that memorable occasion, would have been spared ; for, only two j£ weeks previous to the sanguinary conflict, namely, on the 24tli of December, 1814, the treaty of peace between the United States and Great Britain was signed at Ghent, by the ap- pointed commissioners, — a most joyous event to all, but the tidings of which did not, unfortunately, reach the contending armies in Louisiana, until several weeks after the battle took place. Nevertheless, perhaps no other battle in American annals, up to that period, had given such prestige to the valor of American arms, nor cau any estimate be made of the 172 BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. immense consequences of that victory to General Jackson and his countrj'. Mr. Bancroft, the historian, sa3's that the heroes of antiquity would have contem- plated with awe the unmatched hardihood of Jackson's character. The circumstances which led to a battle so creditable in its result to the genius and bravery of the American army were as follows : On the twenty-fifth of August, 1814, a British army landed at Pensacola, and took forcible possession of the place, being aided by the Spaniards in all their proceedings ; they collected all the Indians that would resort to their standard; and Colonel Nichols, the chief British com- mander, even sent an officer to the notori- ous piratical establishment at Barataria to enlist the chief, Lafitte, and his follow- ers, in their cause, the most liberal and tempting inducements being held out. These people, however, showed a decided preference for the American cause, and, deceiving the English by delaj-, conveyed intelligence of their designs to the gov- ernor of New Orleans, and frankly offered their services to defend the countrj'. Dis- appointed in securing their aid, the expe- dition proceeded to the attack of Fort Bowyer, on Mobile j)oint, commanded by Major Lawrence. The result, however, was a loss to the besiegers of more than two hundred men ; the commodore's ship was so disabled that they set fire to her, and she blew up, and the remaining three vessels, shattered and filled with wounded men, returned to Pensacola. While the British were thus sheltered in this place, busily occupied in bringing over the Indi- ans to join them. General Jackson, — who, after the peace with the Creeks had become active commander at the south, — formed an expedition of about four thousand men, to dislodge them. He summoned the town, was refused entrance by the Spanish governor, and his flag of truce was fired upon ; the British soldiers being also in the forts, where their flag had been hoisted, in conjunction with the Spanish, the day before the American forces appeared. Preparations were immediately made to carry the jilaco ; one battery having been taken by storm, with slight less on either side, the governor surren- dei°d, the English having previously retired on board their ships. The forts below, which commanded the passage, were blown up, and this enabled the English fleet to j)ut to sea. Returning to Mobile, General Jackson learned that preparations were making by the British for the invasion of Louisiana, and with especial reference to an attack on New Orleans. He according]) hastened toNewOrleans, which he found in great alarm and confu- sion. He at once put in operation the most rigorous measures of defense. The militia of Louisiana and Mississippi were ordered out en masse, and large detach- ments from Tennessee and Kentucky. From a previous correspondence with Gov- ernor Claiborne, General Jackson had been informed that the city corps had, for the most part, refused obedience to the orders which had been given them to turn out ; that they had been encouraged in their dis- obedience by the state legislature, then in session in the city ; and that, although there were many faithful citizens in the place, there were many others who were more devoted to the interests of Spain, and others still whose hostility to the English was less observable than their dislike to American government. Under these circumstances, and finding that the statements relative to the disaf- fection of the populace were f ullj- confirmed, Jackson, on consultation with the gover- nor, in conjunction with Judge Hall, and manj' influential persons of the city, on the sixteenth of December, issued an order, declaring the city and environs of New Orleans to be under strict martial law. Nor were the military modes and plans adopted by General Jackson, outside of the city proper, wanting in efficiency. Fort St. Philip, which guarded the passage of the river at the detour la Plaquemine, was strengthened and placed under the command of Major Overton, an able and BATTUE OF NEW ORLEANS. 173 skillful engineer. A site was also selected for works of defense, four miles below the city, where its destinies were ultimately to be determined. The right rested on the river, and the left was flanked by an impenetrable cypress swamp, which ex- tended eastward to Lake Pontchartrain, and westward to within a mile of the river. Between the swamp and the river was a large ditch or artificial bayou which had been made for agricultural objects, but which now served an important military purpose. On the northern bank of this ditch, the entrenchments were thrown up, and large quantities of cotton-bales so arranged, that the troops could be effectually protected from the fire of the ]ii-itish. Each flank was secured by an ;iJvance bastion, and the latter protected by batteries in the rear. These works were well mounted with artillery. Oppo- site this position, on the west bank of the river, on a rising ground. General Morgan, with the city and drafted militia, was sta- tioned ; and Commodore Patterson, with the crews of the Caroline and Louisiana, and the guns of the latter, formed another, near General Morgan's ; both of which entirely enfiladed the approach of an enemy against the principal works. A detachment was stationed above the town, to guard the pass of the bayou St. John, if an attempt should be made from that quarter. On the twenty-second of December, the enemy proceeded from their rendezvous on Ship island, with all their boats and small craft capable of navigating the lake to the bayou Bienvenue, and having surprised and captured the videttes at the mouth of the bayou, the first division accomplished their landing unobserved. Major-General Villery, of the New Orleans militia, living on the bayou, to whom the important service of making the first attack, and giving notice of the enemy's approach was intrusted, found them on his own planta- tion, nine miles below the city, without any previous knowledge of their approach. The morning of New Year's day, 1815, was very dark aud foggy amid the swamps and bogs of New Orleans, and the day was somewhat advanced before the Americans discerned how near the enemy had ap- proached to them, or the novel use which had been made of their molasses and sugar hogsheads. In the course of the day, under cover of these batteries, three unsuccessful attempts were made to storm the American works. By four in the afternoon, all the enemy's batteries were silenced, and the next night found them in their former position. On the fourth of January, General Adair arrived, with four thousand Ken- tucky militia, principally without arms. The muskets and munitions of war, des- tined for the supply of this corps, were provided at Pittsburg, but did not leave that place until the twenty-fifth of Decem- ber, and arrived at New Orleans not until several dajs after the decisive battle of January eighth. On the sixth, the enemy received their last re-enforcement of three thousand men from England, under Major- General Lambert. But before the final assault on the American lines, the British general deemed it necessary to dislodge General Morgan and Commodore Patter- son, from their positions on the right bank. These posts so effectually enfiladed the approach to General Jackson's works, that the army advancing to the assault, must be exposed to the most imminent hazard. To accomplish this object, boats were to be transported across the island from lake Borgne to the Mississippi ; for this purpose the British had been labori- ousl}' emploj'ed in deepening and widening the canal or bayou Bienvenue, on which they first disembarked. On the seventh, they succeeded in opening the embank- ment on the river, and completing a com- munication from the lake to the Missis- sippi. In pushing the boats through, it was found, at some places, that the canal was not of sufficient width, and at others the banks fell in and choked the passage, thus occasioning great delay ; at length, however, they succeeded in hauling through a sufficient number to transport five hun- dred troops to the right bank. 174 BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. On the left bank, where General Jack- son in person commanded, everything was in readiness to meet the assault when it should be made. The redoubt on the levee was defended by a company under Lieutenant Ross. The regular troops occupied that part of the entrenchment next to the river. General Carroll's divi- sion was in the center, supported by Gen- eral Adair's Kentucky troops ; while the extreme left, extending for a considerable distance into the swamp, was protected by the brigade of General Coffee. How soon the onset should take place, was uncertain ; at what moment rested with the enemy, — with the Americans, to be in readiness for pace with the zeal and preparation of the enemy. He seldom slept; he was always at his post, performing the duties of both general and soldier. His sentinels were doubled, and extended as far as possible in the direction of the British camp; while a considerable portion of the troops were constantly at the line, with arms in their hands, ready to act, when the first alarm should be given. For eight days did the two armies remai^i thus upon the same field, in battle array and in view of each other, without anything decisive on either side being effected. Twice, since their landing, had the British columns essayed to effect by storm the execution of their Q ^^^^^^'Z-.-^O^c^je^^ resistance. There were many circum- stances, however, favoring the belief that the hour of contest was fast approaching ; the unusual bustle, — the efforts of the enemy to carry their boats into the river, — the fascines and scaling-ladders that were preparing ; all these circumstances indicated the hour of attack to be near at hand. General Jackson was not only unmoved by these appearances, but, accord- ing to General Eaton's statements, he anxiously desired a contest, which, he believed, would give a triumph to his arms, and terminate the hardships of his soldiers. Unremitting in exertion, and constantly vigilant, his precaution kept plans, and twice had failed and retired from the contest. The eighth of Januarxj, 1815, at length arrived. The day dawned; and the sig- nals, intended to produce concert in the enemy's movements, were descried. On the left, near the swamp, a sky-rocket was perceived rising in the air; and presently another ascended from the right, next the river. They were intended to announce that all was prepared and ready, to proceed and carry by storm a defense which again and again had foiled their utmost efforts. Instantly the charge was made, and with such rapidity, that the American soldiers at the outposts with difficulty fled in. BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. 175 The British batteries, which had been demolished on the first of tlie month, had been re-established during the preceding night, and heavy pieces of cannon mounted, to aid in their intended operations. These now opened, and showers of bombs and balls were poured upon our line, while the air was lighted with their congreve rock- ets. The two divisions, commanded by Sir Edward Pakenhani in person, and supported by Generals Keane and Gibbs, pressed forward; the right against the center of General Carroll's command, — the left against our redoubt on the levee. A thick fog, that obscured the morning, enabled them to approach within a short distance of our entrenchment, before they were discovered. They were now perceived advancing, with firm, quick, and steady pace, in column, with a front of sixty or seventy deep. The American troops, who had for some time been in readiness, and waiting their appearance, gave three deaf- ening cheers, and instantly the whole line was lighted with the blaze of their fire. A burst of artillery and small-arras, pour- ing with destructive aim upon them, mowed down their front, and arrested their advance. It was a perfect sheet of fire and death ! The havoc and horror before them — the terrible carnage which swept down their advancing ranks, — became at last too great to be withstood, and already were the British troops seen wavering in their determination, and receding from the con- flict. At this moment. Sir Edward Paken- ham, the distinguished commander-in-chief of the British forces, hastening to the front, endeavored to encourage and inspire them with renewed zeal. His example, liowever, was of short continuance, for, when near the crest of the glacis, he received a ball in the knee ; still continu- ing to lead on his men, another shot soon pierced his body, and he was carried in mortal agony from the field, in the arms of his aid-de-camp. Nearly at the same time, Major-General Gibbs, the second British officer in command, received a mortal wound when within a few yards of the lines, and was removed. The third in command also, Major-General Keane, while at the head of his troops near the glacis, was terribly wounded, and at once borne away. At this moment, General Lambert, — who had arrived from England but two days before, and found himself now the only surviving general, — was advancing at a small distance in the i-ear, with the reserve, and met the columns precipitately retreating, broken and confused. His efforts to stop them were unavailing, — onward thej' continued in their headlong retreat, until they reached a ditch, at the distance of four hundred j-ards, where a momentary safety being found, the pant- ing and fear-stricken fugitives were ral- lied, and halted. The field before them, over which they had so confidently advanced, was strewed with the dead and dying. Imminent danger faced them ; yet, urged and en- couraged by their officers, who feared their own disgrace involved in the failure, they again moved to the charge. They were already near enough to deplo}', and were endeavoring to do so ; but the same constant and unremitted resistance that caused their first retreat, continued j'et unabated. Our batteries had never ceased their fire ; their constant discharges of grape and canister, and the fatal aim of our musketry, mowed down the front of the columns as fast as they could be formed. Satisfied nothing could be done, and that certain destruction awaited all further attempts, they forsook the contest and the field in disorder, leaving it almost entirely covered with the dead and wounded. It was in vain their officers endeavored to animate them to further resistance, and equally vain to attempt coercion. The panic produced by the dreadful repulse they had experienced, — tlie sight of the field on which they had acted, covered with the ghastly bodies of their countrymen, — and the bitter fact that, with their most zealous exertions, thev had been unable to obtain the slightest advantage; all these circum- 176 BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. stances were well calculated to make even tlie most submissive soldier oppose the authority that would have controlled him. The decided advantage of the Americans gave to the conduct of the enemy more of tlie character of madness than of valor. As has already been stated, the fall of General Pakenham and the two next in command de- volved the leadership upon Lambert, the only general offi- cer left upon the field, and to whom had been consigned the charge of the reserve; and though, meeting the discom- fited troops in their flight, he endeavored to restore the for- tune of the day, the effort was B fruitless to the last degree. I On the ninth. General Lam- " bert determined to relinquish altogether so desperate and hopeless an enterprise, and mmediately commenced the 3 necessary prejjarations, though < with the utmost secrecj'. It " was not until the night of the £ eighteenth, however, that the £ British camp was entirely y. evacuated. c The loss of the British in this fatal expedition was im- mense, the narrow field of strife between the opposing combat- ants being strewed with dead. So dreadful a carnage, consid- ering the length of time and the numbers engaged, has sel- dom been recorded. Two thou- sand, at the lowest estimate, pressed the earth, besides such of the wounded as were not able to escape. The loss of the Americans did not exceed seven killed, and six wounded. Mili- tary annals do not furnish a more extraordinary instance of ilisparity in the slain, between the victors and vanquished, 'i'he entire British force en- gaged in this attempted reduc- tion of New Orleans, amounted to twelve thousand men ; the Americans numbered some six thousand, chiefly militia. BATTLE OF NEW OKLEANS, 177 Pakenliam, the distinguished leader of the British forces, was a brother-in-law of the great Duke of Wellington, had long been in high repute for military skill and personal bravery, and on this occasion numbered among his troops those who had won laurels of victory on the battle-fields of Europe. But, that he felt convinced of the magnitude and hazard of his present undertaking, as distinguished from all previous ones, is evident. When an officer leads his troops on a forlorn attempt, he not unfrequently places before them allure- ments stronger than either authority or duty. According to General Eaton's his- torical statements, a positive charge is made against General Pakenham, in this respect, — inducements having been held out by him, than which nothing more inviting could be offered to an infuriated soldiery. By this gallant but misguided general, there was promised to his soldiers — to excite their cupidity — the wealth of the city, as a recompense for their gal- lantry and desperation ; while, with brutal licentiousness, they were to revel in lawless indulgence, and triumph, uncontrolled, over female innocence. The history of Europe, since civilized warfare began, may be challenged to afford an instance of such gross and wanton outrage. The facts and circumstances which were developed at the time, left no doubt on the minds of the American officers, but that ' Boofij and Beauty,^ was the British watchword of the day. The information was obtained from prisoners, and confirmed by the books of two of their orderly sergeants taken in battle. Jackson was well aware, from the first, of the bold and reckless character of the enemy he had to deal with. With patri- otic indignation he declared: "The red- coats will find out wliom they have to deal with. 1 will smash them, so help me God ! " And the spirit with which he led 12 his men forward may be easily judged of from his emphatic exclamation — " Remem- ber, our watchword is ' Victory or Death !' We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the last ditch ! " Never before did a general bring upon his troops such a spell of enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to the demands of the hour. So, too, in the flush of triuui[ih, he did not forget mercy and magnanimity. " General Jackson," says Blackwood's Magazine, of London, " behaved with humanity and generosity to all his prisoners, which did him as great honor as his conduct in the defense. We do not hesitate to call him a great man." Such was the encomium bestowed upon him by the pen of an enemy, — one of the most influential organs of British opinion. At this time, the person of General Jackson is described as being neither robust nor elegant. He was six feet and one inch high, remarkably straight and sjiare, and weighing about one hundred and fortj'-five pounds. His physique appeared to disqualify him for hardship; yet, accustomed to it from early life, few were capable of enduring fatigue to the same extent, or with less injury. His dark blue ej'es, with brows arched and slightly projecting, possessed a marked expression; but when from anj- cause excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster and penetration. In his manners he was pleasing — in his address commanding. His countenance, marked with firmness and decision, yet beamed with a strength and intelligence that struck at first sight. In his deportment, he was easy, affable, familiar, and accessible to all. The annunciation of the triumphant defense of New Orleans was hailed, in every section of the country, with accla- mations of delight, and won for Jackson the title of " the conqueror of the con- querors of Napoleon." XXII. THE EVER-MEMORABLE SEPTEMBER GALE.— 1815. Its Violence and Destructiveness Without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — Terroi Kxcited by Its Sudden aud Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tempest, Deluge and Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premonitory Indications. — Heavy North-east Rains. — Sudden and Violent Ch.-inges of Wind. — Its Rapidity and Force Indescribable — Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchard.s and Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Raging and Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives Like a Snow-storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the Tides. — Irresistible Impetuosity of the Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight for Safety to the Fields. — The Whole Coast Swarms with Wrecks. — Perils, Escapes, Fatalities. — Peculiar Meteorological Facts. — Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tem- pest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect Upon Lands, Crops, and Wells. — All New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Galss. —" still nverh'll The minclinir tempest wears its doom, and stih The deluiie di'epeon; till the flelda around Lie sunk and flatted in the sordid wave. All that the winds had spared, In fine wild moment ruined." lUDGING from all the information, historical and traditional, relating to the great American gales during the last hundred years, it would appear that the one which occurred in New England, on the 23d of September, 1815, was and is still without a parallel, in its extraordi- nary characteristics of violence and destruc- tiveness. In the history of the country, dating back to its earliest annals, there is no account of any gale or hurricane equaling this, in its various phenomena of suddenness, severity and power. As distinguishing it, therefore, above all others of its class, this has ever since been called the Great Septem- ber Gale. The observations of the character, course and effects of this wonderful storm, made by Professor Farrar and others, for the latitude of Boston, show that it was there preceded by rain, which continued to fall for about twenty-four hours with a moderate wind from the north-east. Early in the morning of the twenty-third, the wind shifted to the east, and began to blow in gusts accompanied with showers. It continued UESTltUi:! IO.\ liV -illK (iltEAT (iALE ASit FLOOD. THE EVER-MEMOEABLE GALE. 179 to change toward the south and to increase in violence while the rain abated. Be- tween nine and ten o'clock in the fore- noon, it began to excite alarm. Chimneys and trees were blown over both to the west and north ; but shingles and slates, that were torn from the roofs of buildings, were carried to the greatest distance in the direction of about three points west of north. Between half-past ten and half-past eleven o'clock, the greatest destruction took place. The rain ceased about the time the wind shifted from south-east to south ; a clear sktj ivas visible in many places duringi the utmost violeiice of the tempest, and clouds were seen flying with great rapidity in the direction of the wind. The air had an unusual appearance. It was considerably darkened by the exces- sive agitation, and filled with the leaves of trees and other light substances, which were raised to a great height and whirled about in eddies, instead of being driven directly forward as in a common storm. The rivers raged and foamed like the sea in a storm, and the spray was raised to the height of sixty or one hundred feet in the form of thin white clouds, which were drifted along in a kind of wave form, like snow in a violent snow-storm. Travelers were frequently driven back by the force of the wind, and were obliged to screen themselves behind fences and trees or to advance obliquely. It was impossible for even the stoutest man to stand firm in a place exposed to the full force of the wind. The pressure of the wind was like that of a rapid current of water; pedestrians could with great difficulty hear each other speak at the distance of two or three yards ; and they moved about almost as awkwardly as if attempting to wade in a strong tide. In Boston harbor, the sea had risen unusually high, two hours before the calen- dar time of high water. But the direction of the wind at this time tended to coun- teract the tide, and thus secured the port from that awful calamity which threatened it. Great losses, however, were sustained from the wind alone ; many buildings were blown down, great numbers were unroofed or otherwise injured, and few entirely escaped. The most calamitous destruction befell the trees, — orchards and forests exhibiting a scene of desolation, the like of which had never before been witnessed in America. The roads in many places were rendered impassable, not only through woods, but in the more cultivated towns, where they happened to be lined with trees ; and the streets in Boston and neighboring towns were strewed with the ruins of innumerable gardens and fruit- yards. A considerable proportion of the large and beautiful trees in Boston mall, and in other public walks, some of which trees measured from eight to twelve feet in circumference, were torn up by the roots and prostrated. Apple trees, in especial, being separated at a considerable distance from each other, were overturned in great numbers ; no less than Jive thoiu- sand were thus destroyed in the town of Dorchester alone. In this same town, also, seventeen houses were unroofed, sixty chimneys blown over, and about forty barns demolished. Ehode Island felt the full force of this remarkable gale, Providence suffering to the amount of millions of dollars, accom- panied with a fearful loss of life, as in other places. This was owing to the wind blowing directlj' up the river on which the place is built, unbroken by the cape or Long Island, and in sweeping over such an extent of water it accumulated a dread- ful and most destructive tide, so that vessels were actualbj driven over the wharves and through the streets. Early in the morning, the wind was north-east, but, at about eight, it shifted to south-east, and soon began to blow violently, continu- ing to increase until ten, when it became a hurricane. All was now confusion and dismay in the exposed region. The tide, impelled by the tempest, overflowed the wharves ; vessels, broken from their moor- ings in the stream, and their fastenings at the wharves, were seen driving with dread- ful impetuosity towards the bridge, which 180 THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. tiiey swept away, without a moment's check to theii- jirogress, and jjassed on to the head of the basin, wliere tliey drove high up tlie bank. Every exertion to jirotect property, was rendered futile by the violence of the wind, the rapid rise of the water, and the falling of trees ; indeed, these, with the crashing of chimneys, tumbling upon the houses and descending into the streets, together with tiles and railings from the tops of buildings, and many other species of dangerous missile flying through the air, rendered it perilous to ajjpear in the streets. All considera- tion of property, however, was soon for- gotten in the more important one of self- preservation. Tlie tempest still raged elements, were seen removing the panic- stricken inmates ; and on the east side, an awful torrent rolled through the main street, in depth nearly to a man's waist, and by which boats, masts, bales of cotton, and immense quantities of property uf every description, were driven along with resistless force. It was an au-ful and ter- rific scene. Every store below, on the east side, was either carried away or com- pletely shattered ; and every building on the opposite side and on the wharves, were swept from their foundations — so that all the space, where, an hour or two before, were so many valuable wharves and stores crowded with shiispiug and merchandise, was now one wide waste of tumultuous with increasing violence ; the flood was overwhelming the lower parts of the town ; stores and dwelling-houses were tottering on their foundations, and then, plunging into the deluge, blended their shattered remains with the wrecks of vessels, — the whole passing, with irresistible impetuos- ity, in full view, on the current to the head of the cove, to join the already accumu- lated mass of similar wrecks. By this time, the water on the west side of the river had risen nearly to the tops of the lower windows of the houses, and boats and scows, struggling with the maddened water. Only two small vessels, of all that were in the harbor, succeeded in riding out the gale, all the rest having drifted ashore, or been carried high up on the wharves. It was such a scene of wide- spread ruin and desolation, as beggars all description — vessels of all kinds and in every position, blended promiscuously, with carriages, lumber, wrecks of build- ings of every variety, furniture, and tens of thousands of fragments from far and near, all told the story of universal havoc and destruction. Women and children were saved in boats from chamber-windous. THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE. 181 One distressing and peculiar scene, wliich took place among the shipping, will serve as a description of a thousand other cases which occurred during the storm. A brig, loaded and read_v for sea, with live- stock, drove against the end of a wharf, and her head rested on it ; here she hung, appearing every moment as if she would ui)set, and plunge her crew into the raging flood. The men were seen clinging to her, awaiting their fate, as no soul could ven- ture to their succor, — the whole distance between the vessel and the houses being filled with roofs and parts of stores tum- bling with the violence of the tempest. Expecting every moment to be precipitated into the torrent, the}' determined at last upon the final but perilous attempt to quit the vessel and gain the houses. Strug- gling with the violence of the gale, and with the rolling and bounding materials, in endeavoring to get a foothold, thej' at last reached the rear of the houses, where some were taken into the second story, and others, unable to be reached, succeeded in braving the waves until they swam to a place of safetj'. But it would be absolutely impossible to givs an extended detail of the disastrous scenes pertaining to each separate locality, although some of the incidents and items of the gale's destructive effects deserve to be cited for their very marvelousness. Mention has already been made of the devastation in Dorchester, near Boston, — unparalleled since its settlement, — result- ing in seventeen houses being unroofed, sixty cliinineys ^^^ostrated, forty bams demolished, a7id more than five thousand trees destroyed. The number of buildings, large and small, destroyed in Providence, luas estimated at five hundred, and about fifty vessels wrecked. In many instances, majestic oaks, which had braved the tem- pests an hundred years or more, were thrown down, or twisted into shreds ; and in Danvers, Mass., the venerable jJear tree, imported and transjjlanted by Governor Endicott, was made terrible havoc with. In Chelsea, not far from Danvers, the great Elm tree, seventeen feet in girth, and which had a portico built upon its limbs, capable of holding thirty persons, was among the wrecked. In the little town of Acton, about twenty miles from Boston, the damage amounted to forty thousand dollars. At Stonington, Conn., the tide rose seventeen feet higher than ■usual, all the vessels going ashore or sink- ing, and all the wharves and manj' build- ings being destroyed. The fate of one citizen of this town was almost as disas- trous as that of Job of yore : His house, ropewalk, blacksmith's shop, and other buildings, with all their contents, were swept away, and, melancholy to relate, his wife, daughter, wife's mother, and a young lady visitor, all perished in the billows. All along the New England coast, and as far as New York, the damage done to the shipping was immense, hun- dreds of vessels with their cargoes being wrecked ; and almost every seaport as well as inland town suffering to some degree, — in many instances, almost irreparable, in kind and extent. Innumerable churches were wholly or partially ruined, and the number of cattle killed was very great. The gale was also severely felt by vessels off Cape Hatteras, in the gulf stream, off the capes of Delaware, at Sandy Hook, Nantucket Shoals, Cape Ann, Cape Henlopen, etc. The course of the gale, as ascertained from data procured from various points, furnishes facts of peculiar meteorological interest. Thus, in Philadelphia, there was, during most of the night of the twenty-second, a gale from the north-east, with heavy rain. Early the next day, the wind veered to the north-west, the gale continuing, with torrents of rain, for sev- eral Lours. Between eight and nine o'clock, the wind slackened, the rain ceased, and clouds broke away in the west and south. About noon, the weather was clear and mild, with a gentle westerly breeze. During the greater part of the afternoon, the sun was obscured with fly- ing clouds from the west and north-west. In New York, a violent north-east storm of wind and rain commenced at night, on 182 THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. the twenty-first ; about two o'clock, the wind suddenly shifted to the north and north-west, Wowing with increased vio- lence. On the twenty-second, there was a gale all day, from the north-east and east, with heavy and incessant rain. The gale increased in the evening, continuing until four o'clock the next afternoon, though most violent at nine o'clock the same fore- noon, the wind being north to north-west. At New London, Connecticut, the storm commenced on Friday, the twenty-second, a heavy rain falling during that day and night, the wind north-east. Next morn- ing, the twentj'-third, the wind became very violent, and soon after almost a liur- ricane. The tide, which commenced flood about six o'clock, bad, by ten, risen three or four feet higher than was ever known before. The rise was so rapid, too, that some of the dwellings were deluged before the inhabitants knew of their danger, and not more than thirty minutes elajjsed after they thus realized their peril, before the waves rose four to six feet in the streets ! Stores were soon seen falling before the terrible power of the tempest, buildings were unroofed, giant trees fell. But this a^iul scene of destruction was short. Soon after eleven o'clock, the wind shifted to the westward and abated ; the sea returned with the velocity it came in, though it should have run flood until twelve ; and the storm ceased. The show- ers which fell over the city and neighbor- hood were of salt water ; and the leaves of the tender fruit-trees and shrubs and of many forest trees, without frost, shrunk in a few hours after the gale as though they had been scorched. Brooks and wells in the town and neighborhood became brack- ish ; and during the strength of the wind, in the eddies, the air was extremely hot and suffocating. Far into the interior, the tempest swept and raged with unparalleled furj'. Early on Saturday morning, the wind became very violent, and torrents of rain descended, continuing with but short intermissions until about half-past ten in the forenoon ; at this time, the rain abated, and the wind, suddenly shifting to the south-east, blew a hurricane, the terrible devastation of which covered a column or area of sixty miles iii tvidth. A suffocating current of air as, from a hot bath, accompanied the middle stage of the tempest. Flocks of gulls, from the far-off ocean, were seen after the storm in the Worcester meadows, and, as evening apjaroached, they flew toward the sea. Along the seaboard, the effect of the tide upon the soil and its productions was very marked. Grass was entirely killed. There was not a green blade to be seen, in any place, over which the flood had passed. In a few spots, near running springs, some new shoots appeared in the course of the autumn ; but on uplands, none grew until another season, and then it was not the same kind of grass which grew there before, excepting in a very few instances. Several cedar-swamps were filled with sea water, which. Laving no outlet, soaked into the ground. The trees in these swamps perished forthwith, the leaves withering and falling off in a very short time. In the trees cut from these swamps during the winter following the storm, the sap-wood had turned nearly black ; and there was scarcely an instance in which a cedar-tree survived the effect of the flood. Pine and oak trees suffered a similar fate, excepting a very few, which stood near the shore, — these latter, perhaps, having grown accustomed to the influence of salt water, and could better endure the ordeal, — though a very great proportion even of these perished in a shotft time. Most of the shrubs and bushes, over which the tide passed, perished similarly. It ^\-as ob- served, however, that one or two species of laurel, and the common bayberry, were but little if at all injured, and some of the swamp whortleberry-bushes survived. Apple trees were, generallj', on such high ground, that the tide did not reach them ; only a few were surrounded bj' the water, and none of them were so situated that the water could remain about them for any length of time. Thej' were, nevertheless, as much exjjosed as man^" of the cedars THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE. 18^ •which died ; but the apple trees continued to live, though considerably stinted in their growth. With these exceptions, the destruction of vegetable life in localities of this exposure, was very general, if not universal. Wherever the cultivated lands were in low places near the shore, they were of course overflowed. In fields where Indian corn was standing, the roots were, in most cases, torn out of the ground ; and where this did not take place, the stalks were wrenched and twisted, and the spikes broken off. The corn, where it had pre- viously grown hard or ripe, was fit for food, but where the grain had not already hardened, it failed to do so, and either per- ished in the husk, or very soon after it was taken out. It was a common remark, that no part of the plant could be dried by any means, and therefore by far the greater part of the harvest was lost, not being yet ripe. Potatoes, and other vegetable roots, if left in the ground, perished ; but, where they had ripened, and were taken up within a few days after the flood, and well dried, they were good. which the tide water did not run, were so infected with the taste and qualities of sea water, as to be totally unfit for domestic purposes. The inhabitants were obliged therefore to transport this necessar3' article for household uses, from a great distance; and travelers who needed it were glad to receive it in a measure of the smallest capacity. In some wells near the shore, the water formerly rose and fell with the tide, still remaining fresh ; but the severe and peculiar discipline of this flood so changed their habit, that the water in them became of a fixed height, and saltish. Wlien the vast and tremendous tide was sweeping over the land, the spray arising from it was very great, over a wide surface of country, extending to the furthermost of the interior of the northern states. It is spoken of as having resembled a driving snoic-storm, through which objects could be discerned only at short distances. In the more northerly regions, it was observed, immediately after the storm, that a singu- lar effect had been produced upon the leaves of the trees by the spray ; their vitality was destroyed, and they exhibited an appearance similar to that which HORRORS OF THE WHIRLWIND THROCGHOUT NEW ENGLAND. Fresh water, along the seaboard, was, for a long time, a rarity of price, the wells having been generally overflown and left full of sea water. Watering-places for cattle suffered a similar fate ; and so extensive was the influence of the flood, that many wells, pools and streams, into accompanies frost, except that they retained more of their original color, and in some instances they assumed a dark red hue, as if they had been well scorched. But in other sections along the shore, the leaves di commenced to the leeward; but when tho wind shifted from north-east to east and south, along the coast of New England, it veered round in the opposite direction at New York, and at an earlier period. It reached its greatest height at this latter place about nine o'clock on the morning of the twenty-third, when it was from the north-west ; whereas, at Boston, it became most violent and devastating about two hours later, and blew from the opposite quarter of the heavens. At Montreal, the direction of the wind was the same as at New York, but did not attain its greatest height so soon b}' several hours. The barometer descended very fast during the morning of the twenty-third, and, when the wind was highest, had fallen about half an inch. It began to rise as the wind abated, and recovered its former elevation by the time the air was restored to its usual tranquillity. According to the investigations made by others, and the observations recorded at the time, in different places, the follow- ing facts are believed to be established, namely : That the hurricane commenced in the "West Indies, and moved northward at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an hour. Its course from St. Barts was about west-north-west to Turks Island, and thence to Boston — nearly on the same meridian — it was a curve convex to the west. Previous to the arrival of the hur- ricane in New England, a north-east storm had prevailed along the Atlantic coast for more than twenty-four hours. For some hours previous to the hurricane, there was a great and rapid condensation of vapor, producing a heavy fall of rain in the line of the north-east storm. The hurricane, or violent blow, was mostly from the south- east, blowing into and at right angles to THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. 185 the north-east storm, at its southern ter- mination. As the south-east wind ap- proached the line of the north-east storm, it was deflected into an east wind. The general form of tlie hurricane, in and about i^'ew England, was that of an eccentric ellipse, with its longest diameter north- east and south-west ; wind blowing north- east on the north-west side ; north-north- west, and west-north-west, at its south end; south-east on its south-east side, curving into an oast wind at its junc- tion with the north-east current ; wind blowing from south at the easternmost part of the hurricane. The whole body of the hurricane, in the form thus described, moved to the north nearly on the meridian. It is universally- admitted, that there is DO account of a storm or gale in all respects so remarkable in its phenomena as this, to be found in the history of the United States. Other hurricanes there have been, laying waste whatever came in their way, tut they have been comparatively limited in their extent and destructiveness. Morton, in his Kew England Memorial, gives a description of the violent tempest that took place soon after the first settle- ment at Plymouth. It began on the morning of August fifteenth, 1635, very suddenly, "blew down houses, uncovered divers others, divers vessels were lost at sea; it caused the sea to swell in some places so that it arose to twenty foot right up and down, and made many Indians to climb into trees for their safety; blew down many hundred thousands of trees," etc. The tremendous gales of 1723, 1804, 1818, 1821, 1836, 1841, 1851, 1859, 1860, 1869, and some others, will long be remembered in certain localities, for their severity and the loss of life and property, on land and sea, which attended them ; but neither the memorij of man, nor the annals of the country, from its first settlement doxvn to the present time, furnish any parallel tn the jjeculiar character of the great yah' of September, 1815. Of the storms and floods which occurred during the last half of the century, those of September and October, 1869, were per- haps the most memorable. The devasta- tion by the latter embraced the whole countrj' between the Nova Scotia coast and the Mississippi, and from the north limits of the Canadas to the cotton states. The rain fell in torrents for about forty consec- utive hours, the dense clouds descending in vast sheets, and a moaning wind accom- panying the powerful outpouring. A stronger storm was beyond conception. In some places, the rain-gauge showed that four inches of rain fell in the course of twenty-nine hours, and, during the suc- ceeding six hours, 3.34 inches additional, — the total fall of water during the storm, over a vast region of country, reaching the enormous amount of 8.05 inches. The resulting floods on all the streams were beyond any ever recorded. The storm was so sudden and unexpected, that no pre- cautions could have been taken, and none were. Railroads, telegraph wires, streets, bridges, dams, manufactories, houses, lands, crops, were utterly or partially ruined, over a wide extent of countrj' ; and such an embargo on travel was never known before. The pecuniary losses reached millions of dollars, and many lives were lost. XXIII. VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST OF THE REPUBLIC— 1824. His Tour of Fire Thousand Miles Through the Twenty-Four States.— A National Ovation on the Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations of Respect. — The Venerable Patriot Enters tlie Tomb and Stands Beside the Remains of His Great Departed Friend, Washing'on — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite cf Louis XVI. — Hears of the Battle of Bunker Hill. — Pleads the Cause of the Americans. — Resolves to Join Their Army. — Freely Consecrates His Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and Embarks. — Introduced to General Washington- — Admir.ition of Him by the Chieftain. — One of Washington's Military Family. — A MajorGeneral in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fidelity During the War. — Subse- quent Vicissitudes in France. — America's Heart-Felt Sympathy. — He Leaves Havre for New York. — Enthusiasm Excit- ed by His Pres- ence. — Incidents, Interviews, Fetes. — Greetings with Old Comrades. — — Memories, Joys, and Tears — De- parts in the United States Ship Lafay- ette.— His Death in 1834.— National Grief. . i-Jt .... .. "FortunRte.fortunatenitn I Heaven new tit to otdaiD that the elfctric apark of lioertv Id be conducted. througti yette. Iiom the New d to the Old."— Danisl WitUSIEB. WO names are most intimately and inflis.solubly associated witti J^f/y tlie dramatic train of military events which led to the establish- ment of the United States as a nation and government, namely, tliose of Washington and Lafayette. No two names are, down to the present day, more fresh in the love and gratitude of the American people, and, until time shall be no more, a test of the fidelity with which that people hold to the principles of republican wisdom and virtue that gave them birth, will be their admiration of the names of those patriots and heroes. To understand, therefore, the significance of that spontaneous otitburst of popular enthusiasm which greeted Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824, and which made that year one of the mosi VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 18< memorable in the nation's history, it will only be necessary to glance at the services, military and civil, rendered us by this large-hearted patriot, during the opening years of our national existence. Those services and tliat reception form, indeed, a national romance. When only thirteen years of age, Lafay- ette was left an orphan, and in full posses- sion of valuable estates, and master of his own aifairs. Being for a time at the col- lege in Paris, his associations brought him into notice at the court of King Louis, and he became quite a favorite with that mon- arch. He was appointed one of the queen's pages, and through her agency received a commission at the early age of fifteen. He formed an early attachment to a daughter of the noble family of Noailles, with whom he was united in marriage at the age of sixteen. Adopting the profession of a soldier, Lafayette, at nineteen, was stationed, as captain of dra- goons, at Metz, one of the garrisoned towns of France. Here, in 1776, Lafay- ette's attention was directed to the conflict of liberty in America — the hostilities between Britain and her colonies ; and while in conversation with the Duke of Gloucester, brother to George the Third, of England, he elicited facts that led him to see the whole merits of the case. The battle of Bunker Hill and the Declaration of Independence fired his heart ! Before rising from the dinner-table at which this interview occurred, Lafayette had resolved to leave his home, and offer himself and his services to the rising republic, whose cause he regarded as just and noble. From that hour he could think of nothing but this chivalrous enterprise, though aware that it would cut him off from the favor of that brilliant court-circle in which he shone so conspicuously, and that he would also have to tear himself away from his young, beautiful, and fondly attached wife, who alone, among all his associates, approved of his intention. Proceeding to Paris, he confided his scheme to two young friends. Count Segur and Viscount Noailles, and proposed that they should join him. They entered with enthusiasm into his views, but, owing to obstacles put in their way through family interference, they were prevented from following out their course, but faithfully kept their comrade's secret. He next explained his intention to Count Broglie, who advised him to abandon it at once as in the highest degree chimerical and haz- ardous. The count assured him that his confidence was not misplaced; but, said he— " I have seen your uncle die in the wars of Italy, I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Minden, and I will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of the family." But, so far from being disheartened by the unpromising reception which Lafay- ette's plan met with from those to whom he made known his purposes, his ardor was rather increased in the pursuit of his object. " My zeal and love of liberty," said he, " have perhaps been hitherto the prevailing motives ; but now I see a chance for usefulness, which I had not anticipated. I have money ; I will pur- chase a ship, which shall convey to Amer- ica myself, my companions, and the freight for congress." All this, as the sequel will show, he nobly and self-sacrificingly car- ried out. This design was now made known by Lafayette to Messrs. Franklin, Lee, and Deane, the American commissioners at Paris ; and to a proposal so disinterested and generous they could, of course, make no objection, — could only admire, indeed, the spirit which actuated it ; and he hast- ened immediately to put it into execution. After surmounting the many difficulties which from time to time interrupted the progress of his plans, he at last set sail, the Baron de Kalb and eleven other offi- cers of various ranks, in pursuit of em- ployment in the American army, consti- tuting his retinue. In due time they approached the shore near Georgetown, South Carolina, having fortunately escaped two British cruisers, and soon proceeded to Charleston harbor, where a magnificent 188 VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. reception vias given them. The vessel was subsequently loaded with rice for the French market, but it foundered in going out of the harbor, and both the vessel and the cargo became a total loss. But Lafayette had not j-et reached his destination. As soon, however, as all things were in readiness, the party left Charleston and traveled to Philadelphia, where congress was then sitting. On arriving there, he jjut his letters into the hands of Mr. Lovell, chairman of the com- mittee on foreign affairs. He called the next day at the hall of congress, and Mr. Lovell came out to him and said, that so many foreigners had offered themselves for employment, that congress was embar- rassed with their application, and he was sorry to inform liira there was very little hope of his success. Lafaj-ette suspected tliat his papers liad not been read, and he immediately sat down and wrote a note to the president of congress, in which he desired to be permitted to serve in the American army on two conditions : first, that he should receive no pay ; second, that he should act as a volunteer. These terms were so different from those de- manded by other foreigners, and presented so few obstacles on the ground of any interference with American officers, that they were at once accepted. His rank, zeal, perseverance, and disinterestedness, overcame every objection, and he was appointed a major-general in the American army before he had reached the age of twentj'. But he was yet to stand before the face of the great American chieftain. Wash- ington was at head-quarters when Lafay- ette reached Philadelphia, but, being daily expected in the city, the young general concluded to wait his arrival, instead of presenting himself at camp. The intro- duction of the youthful stranger to the man on whom his career depended was, however, delayed only a few days. It took pl.ace in a manner peculiarly marked with the circumspection of Washington, at a dinner-part}', where Lafa^'ette was one among several guests of consideration. Washington was not uninformed of the circumstances connected with Lafayette's arrival in this country ; and it may well be supposed that the eye of the father of his country was not idle during the re- past. But that searching glance, before which pretense or fraud never stood undetected, was completely satisfied. When they were about to separate, Washington took Lafayette aside, spoke to him with kindness, complimented him upon the noble sjjirit he had shown and the sacrifices he had made in favor of the American cause, and then told him that he should be pleased if he would make the quarters of the com- mander-in-chief his home, establish him- self there whenever he thought proper, and consider himself at all times as one of his familj', — adding, in a tone of pleas- antry-, that he could not jiromise him the luxuries of a court, or even the con- veniences which his former habits might have rendered essential to his comfort, but, since he had become an American soldier he would doubtless contrive to accommo- date himself to the customs, manners and privations of a republican army. Such was the reception given to Lafayette, by the most sagacious and observant of men ; and the personal acquaintance, thus com- menced, ripened into an intimacy, a con- VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMEEICA. 189 fidence, and an affection witliout bounds, and never for one moment interrupted. If there lived a man whom Washington loved and admired, it was Lafayette. Gloriously did Lafayette fulfill, in his military career, the high hopes which swelled the hearts of American patriots, in the heroic courage which he displayed at Brandywine, where he received a ball in his leg ; his success in Jersey, before he had recovered from his wounds, in a battle where he commanded militia against Brit- ish grenadiers; in the brilliant retreat, by which he eluded a combined maneuver of the whole British force ; by his great services in the enterprise against Rhode Island, and his successful movements against Cornwallis ; — all these proofs of his patriotism and military skill, together with his warm and unsullied friendship for Washington, through all the varying fortunes of war, endeared him forever to every American. After the fall of Cornwallis, Lafaj'ette sailed for France, but revisited America in 1784. He was received with enthusi- asm wherever he went. Returning to France, he found himself the object of immense popularity, and took his seat with the notables, convoked in 1787. In 1789, he boldly proposed, in the national convo- cation, the Declaration of Eights, which he had brought from the free soil of Amer- ica, as the preliminary of a constitution. Proclamation of this world-renowned doc- ument was made July 22, audit furnished the French people with the metaphysical reasons for the "sacred right of insurrec- tion." Meanwhile the Bastile had been taken, July 14, the national guard organ- ized, and Lafayette appointed to the com- mand. In this capacity he rode a white charger, and shone the impersonation of chivalry, and twice the roj-al family owed their preservation to his address and cour- age. When the popular enthusiasm lulled, he returned to his native fields ; the national guard, on his retirement, present- ing him with a bust of Washington, and a Bword forged from the bolts of the Bas- tile. Subsequently, having denounced the bloodthirsty Jacobins, he was burnetl in effigy by the sans-culottes of Paris, and, fleeing from the guillotine which there awaited him, he finally fell into the hands of the Austrians, and was by them sub- jected to a long and cruel imprisonment in the fortress at Olmutz. His release, so earnestly but unsuccessfully solicited by Washington, was peremptorily demanded by Napoleon, and obtained, in September, 1797. In the jear 1818, he became a member of the chamber of deputies, and, resuming his career as an advocate of con- stitutional principles, succeeded at last in elevating Louis Philippe to the throne of France. By this time, Lafaj^ette had grown old in the services he had rendered to America and France. Though his jears were now nearly three score and ten, he could not think of meeting death until he h.ad once more seen that land of liberty across the wide Atlantic, which was as dear to him as his native country. In its infancy, and for its freedom, he had, fifty years ago, contributed his wealth and shed his blood, sharing the bosom confidence of the great Washington as did no other human being. That struggling little republic had now become a giant nation ; the thirteen states constituting the original galaxy, had be- come almost double that number, and vast as the empires of antiquity in territor3^ Eememhering his magnificent services, in 1824 the congress of the United States voted unanimously^ a resolution requesting President Monroe to invite Lafayette to visit the United States, as the nation's guest, — an honor never before accorded a foreign nobleman, — and tendering a ship of the line for his conveyance. This invi- tation was extended to the great French patriot in President Monroe's most happy manner, and w'as duly accepted, though the offer of a war-ship was declined. On the twelfth of July, 1824, Lafayette, accompanied by his son, George Washing- ton Lafayette, and his secretary, M. Levas- seur, sailed from Havre for America. He arrived in Xew York, August fifteenth, and landed on Staten Island. One of the 190 VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. first to greet him was Joseph Bonaparte, brother of the great Napoleon. Joseph then resided at Bordentown, New Jersey ; SWOKD OF HOUOR PRESENTED TO LAFAYETTE. he had always cherished a high regard for the Marquis, and greatly valued his friendship. The interview between the two was attended with the warmest emo- tions ; and whoever has seen Sully's por- trait of the great French patriot can form some adequate conception of the chieftain's magnificent bearing on this occasion. The announcement of his arrival sent a thrill of joy to every American heart and home, and the great pageant of his recep- tion commenced in the city where he first set foot forty years before. As the fleet arrived off the batterj' at New York, a mili- tary line composed of thousands of veter- ans was formed, and the people, crowding the battery and all the adjacent streets, swelled the throng to the number of forty thousand. The patriot was deeply affected when he exchanged congratulations with his old companions and friends. Shout after shout went up in long and loud acclaim, while the bands of music played a triumphant welcome to the hero. His atay in the city was one unbroken succes- sion of high honors and civic laudation, such as kings might envy ; at Albany, he was received by Vice-President Tompkins. On proceeding to New England, the same enthusiasm was exhibited in everj' city, town, and village. From the residence of Hon. William Eustis, the governor oi Massachusetts, in Roxburv, he was es- corted by a large cavalcade and almost the entire population, to Boston, where a dense assemblage awaited his appearance. Arriving at the line, he was greeted by the mayor of the city and the people, through whom he passed in a superb car- riage, under deafening cheers. The streets were lined with spectators to the entrance of the beautiful common. There, the children of the public schools formed two lines, the girls being dressed in spotless white, and the boys in white pants and blue jackets, and all wearing appropriate badges. A little girl sprang forward from the line as Lafayette was passing, and, at her request to speak to him, was lifted into the carriage, when she gracefully pre- sented him with a wreath of flowers, which the venerable hero received with affecting courtesy. ^Vhile going from town to town, he found in every place some of the descendants of 1776, ready to give him the heartiest of welcomes. Thus, when visiting Marblehead, in Massachusetts, the marquis manifested much curiosity at so many ladies being mingled with the male citizens, who had been deputed to receive him. The spokesman of the occasion, perceiving the pleasant surprise of the marquis at this peculiar feature, said to him — " These are the widows of those who perished in the revolutionary war, and the mothers of children for whose liberty you, illustrious sir ! have contended in the field of battle. They are now here in the places of their husbands, many of whom were once known to j'ou." It may here be remarked, that Marble- head was the "banner town" for furnish- ing soldiers, in the revolutionar}' war, there being a larger proportion to the whole number of inhabitants from that VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 191 tcvn than any other place in the United States. The British armed vessels hover- ing on the coast destroyed the coasting and fishing business, and thus the loss of men in the war fell heavily upon the small seaport towns ; for, being out of employ- ment, nearly all the young and old men shouldered their muskets and joined the army. At Philadelphia he was welcomed with almost idolizing enthusiasm ; for tender and thrilling indeed were the associations which linked together the historj^ of the past and present of that city, in the person and services of Lafayette ; the hospitali- ties of the state were appropriately dis- pensed by Governor Shultze. On landing at Baltimore, he was conducted to the 'tent of Washington,' and the freedom of the state and city conferred upon him in an address by Governor Stevens. For some time Lafayette could not precisely understand the compliment conveyed in the selection of the tent — especially one of that construction — for such proceedings. It was soon made plain, ~«5=fV[3K"»-"ri^ however, for, glancing lid, he recognized 3n of Washi him, he said, in a voice tremulous with emo- tion, " / reviember ! " Proceeding to Washington, Lafayette was received with open arms by President Monroe, at the executive mansion. Congress had just assembled in regular session, at the capitol. He was introduced to both houses, and was formally and elegantlj' addressed by Mr. Clay, speaker of the house of representa- tives, the two branches unanimously unit- ing in their legislative honors to the nation's guest. At this session the sum of two hundred thousand dollars, together with a township, consisting of twenty- four thousand acres of fertile land, was voted bj^ congress to General Lafayette, as an expression of the grateful memory with which the jjeople of America regarded his services in their behalf. A few of the members felt themselves constrained, from some doubts respecting its constitution- ality, to vote against this appropriation. Lafayette, taking one of them by the hand, said to him with considerable feel- ing: " I appreciate your views. If I had been a member, I should have voted with you, not only because I partake of the sen- timents which determined your votes, but also because I think that the American nation has done too much for me." Most characteristic of Lafayette's "isiuterestedness and magnanim- y was that remark ! At this time, Governor Pleas- liief magistrate of the ' and warmly wel- comed the na- ton's personal equipage during the war ; and turning to one near ed for the which event to the war. tion's guest. The emotions experi- enced by Lafay- ette, as he once more trod the bat- tle-fields of Vir- ginia, can of course hardly be described. York- town, distinguish- surrender of Cornwallis, gave the finishing blow presented a vast field 192 VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. of tents at the reception of Lafayette. The same house occupied by Cornwallis, as his head-quarters in 1781, was still stand- ing. The general appearance of the place gave evidence of a deserted village. The houses of yore, which had been riddled with balls and blackened with smoke, still retained the marks of battle. In many parts of the ground were seen broken shells, and gun-carriages, with various implements of war, — some on rocks, and others half buried in the earth ; every arrangement having been made to give the town, on Lafayette's arrival, the appear- ance of a place taken and occupied after a severe contest in battle. One of the tents erected on this occasion, was the one used by Washington at the time of the siege, together with others which had furnished temporary apartments for weary soldiers during the eventful campaign. An arch, bearing the names of Lafaj-ette, Hamilton, and Laurens, was erected on the very spot where the redoubt stood which was stormed by Lafayette ; an obelisk was also erected, bearing the names of distinguished French- men. And on the same spot it is said that the orator of the occasion was design- ing, at the close of his address, to jilace a blended civic crown and national wreath in honor of Lafayette, who, while he acknowledged the unique compliment, gracefully averted its consummation, and, taking the symbolic garland in his hand, called for Colonel Fish, the only survivor of the attack upon the redoubt, and declared that half the honor belonged to him. Washington's marquee was erected on the plain, just out of the village. Be- ing escorted to this tent, Lafayette gave an affecting welcome to the officers of the militia. Two old veterans were there, who had faced the enemj^ in war, and stood firm in the midst of the roar of the cannon ; but as they pressed the hand of Lafayette on this occasion, the old heroes wept and fainted. Some of the servants who were present discovered in an obscure corner of a cellar a large box of candles, bearing marks of belonging to Cornwallis's military stores — having remained undisturbed for forty-three years. They were lighted for the evening, and notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, some of the old soldiers remained till the last vestige of these Brit- ish candles had expired in the sockets. Taking Camden, South Carolina — Gov- ernor Richard J. Manning, — in his tour, Lafayette assisted in laj'ing the corner- stone of a monument erected to the name and memory of Baron de Kalb, a German by birth, who came over in the same vessel with Lafaj'ette, in 1776, and volunteered his services in the American army for three years. He fell while bravely en- gaged in the battle at Camden, pierced with eleven deadly wounds. It is said that Washington, visiting the baron's grave many years after his death, sighed as he looked upon it, and exclaimed, "There lies the brave De Kalb, the gener- ous stranger, who came from a distant land to fight our battles, and to water with his blood the tree of Liberty. Would to God he had lived to share with us in its fruits ! " At Savannah, Georgia, after being welcomed by Governor Troup, Lafay- ette united in the same service commemor- ative of Generals Greene and Pulaski. On the seventeenth of June, Lafajette witnessed the laying of the corner-stone of Bunker Hill monument, at Charlestown, Massachusetts ; he was the only surviving major-general of the revolution who was present at this ceremony. Colonel Francis K. Huger particijjated in the patriotic services — the man who, when a lad, walked with Lafayette over his father's grounds, and who, some thirty years before this seventeenth of June, risked his life in attempting to aid the escape of Lafayette from the castle of Olmutz. The people of Charlestown not only welcomed Huger, but gave him a seat by the side of Lafay- ette, in the carriage which moved in the procession, and also one near him at the festive board. Daniel W^ebster was the orator for the day ; it was the fiftieth anni- versary of the battle; and everything con- spired to render the day memorable. As the procession passed, Lafaj'ette was con- tinually hailed with demonstrations of love VISIT OF LAPAYETTE W AMERICA. lyc and gratitude. Tbe procession was sev- eral miles long, and, on arriving attlie his- toric spot, tlie impressive rite of laying the corner-stone was performed by the grand master of the Freemasons, the president of M LAlAlI.lH-:5 i;:i;iiiil_i.*-l.. the Monument Association, and General Lafayette, in the presence of a vast con- course of people. The assembly then moved to a spacious amphitheatre, where the oration was pronounced by Mr. Web- ster, before as great a multitude as was ever, perhaps, assembled within the sound of a human voic3. There was one place — Kaskaskia, on the route of Lafayette's tour, at which, though no preparations had been made to receive him, he paused a short time ; and here it was that a most affecting incident oc- curred. Curiosity induced one of his com- panions to go and look at an Indian encampment, a short distance from the town. He there met with an educated Indian woman, who spoke the French lan- guage tolerably well, and who expressed a desire to see Lafayette, and to show him a relic which she always carried with her, and which was "very dear to her." She wished to show it to Lafayette, as proof of the veneration with which his name was regarded among their tribes. It was a letter written by Lafayette in 1778, and addressed to her father, Panisciowa, a la chief of one of the six nations. This letter expressed the hearty thanks of Lafayette for tlie faithful services of that chief in the American cause. The name of this only child of the old chief was Mary, who, at the decease of her mother, was ""^"""d ""'i"r the care of an Auinu III igent, by whom she ■n lb msti noted and kindlj' treat- ed Slit b( I ime a Christian. As ^lie was \\ Ukmg out in the for- — ~ est, about five years after, an Indian warrior overtook her and i informed her that her father was dj- ing, and wished to see her. She -non started off, traveled all night, and in the morn- ing reached his liut, which was situated in a narrow valley. As she came to his bedside, he took from his pouch a paper wrapped in a dry skin, and gave it to her, with a charge to preserve it as a precious gift, saj^ing: "It is a powerful charm to interest the pale-faces in your favor. I received it from a great French warrior, whom the English dreaded as much as the Americans loved him, and with whom I fought in my youth." The chief died the next daj'. Mary returned to her white friends, and soon after married the J'oung warrior, who was her father's friend and companion. She had the pleasure of showing the letter to Lafayette, who rec- ognized it, and listened with great respect and deep feeling to her touching story. Another most interesting episode was that which transpired at Lafayette's reception in Nashville, Tenn., Governor Carroll pre- siding at the state ceremonies. There had come from different parts of the country about forty officers and soldiers of the rev- olution. Among the number was an aged man who had traveled one hundred and fifty miles. His name was Haguy, » German, and he was one of those who 1U4 VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. cmbailied in the same vessel with Lafa3'- otre for tliis country, nearly fifty j-ears hack, and served under him during the whole war. The old veteran, clasping Lafayette's hand with affectionate warmth, the tears rolling down his cheeks, said : " I have come many miles to see the ' 3'oung general.' I have had two hapjiy days in my life — one, when I landed with you on the American coast, nearly fift^' years ago, and to-day when I see your face again. I have lived long enough." Tlie sensation produced by this scene, in that great throng, was for a time completely overpowering. Not less interesting was the interview, at Buffalo, between Lafayette and ' Red Jacket,' the old chief of the Seneca tribe of Indians. They had both met in council at Fort Schuyler, in 1784. Red Jacket, in conversation with General Lafayette, made some allusions to that famous coun- cil, and to those who participated in its proceedings, when Lafayette inquired with some curiosity — "Where is the young warrior, I wonder, who opposed the burying of the toma- ha\vk ? " " He is here before j'ou," instantly re- plied the aged chief. "Ah. I see," replied the gener.al, "time has clianged us. We were once young and a.;tive." "But," said the cliief, "time has made less change on you than on me." Saying this he uncovered his head, and exhibited his entire baldness. The gen- eral wore a wig, and, not wishing to deceive Red Jacket, took it from his head, to the no small amusement of the aston- islied Indian. A visit to the tomb of Washington was one of tlie most notable events in Lafav- ette's tour. His arrival there was an- nounced by the firing of cannon, which brouglit to liis memory the din of war, — the scenes of the revolution, — when he, with che great but now lifeless chieftain, were si'ie by side in battle. Standing for awbi)t> upon the consecrated ground and amidst the solemn stillness of the place, lie descended alone into the tomb with his liead uncovered. There he remained in solitary contemplation for some time — the living aged veteran communing with the illustrious dead. He returned with his face bathed in tears, and, taking Jiis son and Levasseur, the secretarj', by the hand, led them into the tomb. He could not speak, but pointed mutely to the coffin of Washington. They knelt reverently by it, kissed it, and, rising, threw themselves into the arms of Lafayette, and for a few moments wept in silence. Lafayette was now presented, by the hand of Mr. Custis, one of the surviving family connections of Washington, with a massive finger-ring containing a portion of the hair of his departed friend. He was also the recipi- ent of some other personal memorials of tlie "Father of his Country." During this tour Lafayette visited every one of the twenty-four states of the Union, and traveled over five thousand miles. In nearly every region which he visited, towns or counties, and literary, scientific or civic associations, named in honor of him, still preserve his memorj'. Indeed, one of the foremost of the great colleges of the Middle states dates from the same period. At Easton, in Pennsylvania, the citizens convened on the 27th of December, 1824, and resolved to estab- lish Lafayette College, an eminent institution of learning, in memory of and "as a testimonj^ of respect for the talents, virtues and signal sevices, of General Lafayette, in the great cause of Freedom." When the time which he had allotted for his tour had expired, Lafaj'ette re- paired to Washington, to pay his parting respects to the chief magistrate of the nation, John Quincy Adams, who had suc- ceeded President Monroe. This took place at the presidential mansion, on the sixth of September, 1825. The farewell address from the president, in behalf of the w^hole American people, was a most affecting tribute to the lofty character and patriotic services of Lafayette, during liis VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 195 long and eventful career, and closed with the following words : " You are ours by that unshaken senti- ment of gratitude for your services which is a precious portion of our inheritance ; ours by that tie of love, stronger than ■ leath, which has linked your name for the ei'.dless ages of time with the name of Wasliington. At the painful moment of -f>\( '»' larting with you y we take comfort the thought that, wherever you may be, to the last pul- sation of your heart, our country will ever be present to your affections ; and a cheer- ing consolation assures us that we are not called to sorrow — most of all, that we shall see j'our face no more, — for wa shall indulge the pleasing anticipation of beholding our friend again. In the name of the whole people of the United States, I bid 3'ou a reluctant and affec- tionate farewell." To this parting address from the lips of the nation's distinguished chief magistrate, Lafayette replied in a strain of patriotic and impassioned eloquence never to be forgotten. On the same da\ he embarked for Fi mi p on boaid the Biandywine, a new frigate, named thus in compli- ment to Lafay- , who, on the hanks of that riv- fr, was wounded 111 his first battle tor American freedom. In the \ liole range of history, ancient or modern, there is no instance of similar honors being paid to any hero, by the united and spontaneous will of a great people ; and when, nine j-ears after, he paid the debt of nature, that same great people gave vent to universal grief, and every tongue spoke words of eulogy to the mem- ory of America's most illustrious friend- XXIV. DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, AND JOHN RANDOLPH, UNITED STATES SENA- TOR FROM VIRGINIA.— 1826. Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Official Document. — Tlie Puritan and " Blackleg " Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Com- bat. — Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor." — Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders. — Ancient Political Antagonists — Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm. — Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay Demands Satisfaction. — Reconciliation Refused. — Bladensburg the Dueling-Ground. — Pistols the Weapons Chosen — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's Secret Resolve — Going to the Field of Blood. — View of this Shrine of •' Chivalry." — Salutations of the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the Scene. — Distance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchange of Shots. — Clay Calls it "Child's Play!" — Another Fire. — No Injury. — "Honor" Satisfied. — Pleasant Talk with Each Other. " I would Dot have eeen him fall mortally, or even doubtfully, wounded, for ell the land that is watered by the King of Floods and all bia tfiljutary dtreuina."— Randolph to BtSTON. " I trust in God, my dear air, you are untouched t after what has occurred,! would not have harmed you tor a thousand worldi.'*— Clay to Ranuolpb would be needless, at this point of time, to recount the circumstances of that long and bitter antago- nism which characterized the relations, in political life, between the renowned and eccentric John Randolph and the equally famous and brilliant Henry Clay. This antagonism, after the accession to the department of state by Mr. Claj', under the presidency of John Quincy Adams, acquired addi- tional violence, and finally led to a hostile encoun- ter, under the following circumstances: The presi- pRELiMiN ARIES OF THE " CODE OF Ho.voB." dcut had SBut in a Hiessage to the senate, on the subject of the Panama mission. A motion was made in the senate for a call upon the president for further information. In response to this the president answered bj' a message, with the tone of which Randolph was greatly displeased, and, in his place in the senate, bitterly denounced it and its authors. President Adams and his secretary', Mr. Clay. Alluding to one passage in particular, in the president's message, Randolph was reported as saying : " Here I plant my foot ; here I fling defiance right into his teeth ; here I throw the gauntlet to him, and the bravest of his compeers, to come forward and defend these lines." And he concluded his speech with the sentence : DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 197 "I was defeated, horse, foot, and dragoons — cut up, clean broke down by the coali- tion of Blifil and Black George — by the combination unheard of till then, of the Puritan with the Blackleij." But, what was most pointed, perhaps, than anything else, in this assault upon IVLr. Clay's honor, was Randolph's statement, " that a letter from General Salazar, the Mexican min- ister at Washington, submitted by the executive to the senate, bore the ear-mark of having been manufactured or forged by the secretary of state." Mr. Clay smarted under the stigma of these charges. He demanded explana- tions. These being refused, Clay at once sent a challenge, which Randolph accepted. The seconds, however, chosen by the dis- tinguished principals, determined to at- tempt an accommodation, or a peaceable termination of the difficulty. But Ran- dolph, though modifying the unrevised and somewhat inaccurate report of his speech which had gone forth, refused to explain, out of the senate, the words he had used within it. Clay was peremptory with Randolph, on the point of honor, as he had also been with Humphrey Mar- shall, in 1808, whom the brilliant Ken- tuckian challenged and fought. Though bad enough, both personally and politically, these duels of the great Kentuckian will at least compare favorably with the later duel between Graves of Kentucky, and Cilley of Maine, in which Webb, the New York journalist, bore so prominent a part. It being certain that there was no hope of reconciliation, the seconds proceeded to arrange for the duel. The afternoon of Saturday, April eighth, 1826, was fixed upon for the time, — the right bank of the Potomac, within the state of Virginia, above the Little Falls bridge, was the place, — pistols the weapons, distance ten paces, — each party to be attended by two seconds and a surgeon, and Senator Ben- ton to be present as a mutual friend. There was to be no practicing with pistols, and there was none; and the words, ' One, two, three, — stop,' after the word ' Fire,' were, by agreement between the seconds and for the humane purpose of reducing the result as near as possible to chance, to be given out in quick succession. The Virginia side of the Potomac was taken, according to Mr. Benton's account of the duel, at the instance of Mr. Randolph. He went out as a Virginia senator, refus- ing to compromise that character, and, if he fell in defense of what he deemed to be its rights, Virginia soil was to him the chosen ground to receive his blood. There was a statute of the state against dueling within her limits ; but as he merely went out to receive a fire without returning it he deemed that no fighting, and conse- quently no breach of her statute. The week's delay, which the seconds had contrived, was about expiring. It was Friday night, when Mr. Benton went to see Mr. Clay for the last time before the duel. There had been some alienation between the two since the time of the presidential election in the house of repre- sentatives, and the senator desired to show Mr. Clay that there was nothing personal in it. The family (says Mr. Benton) were in the parlor, — company present, — and some of it staid late. The youngest child went to sleep on the sofa, — a circumstance which availed me for tlio next day. Mrs. Chiy was, as always after the death of her daughters, the picture of desolation, but calm, conversable, and without the slight- est apparent consciousness of the impend- ing event. When all were gone, and she also had left the parlor, I did what I came for, and said to Mr. Clfiy that, notwith- standing our late political differences, my personal feelings were the same towards him as formerly, and that, in whatever concerned his life or honor, my best wishes were with him. He expressed his gratifi- cation at the visit and the declaration, and said it was what he would have expected of me. We parted at midnight. Mr. Benton's account continues as fol- lows : Saturday, the 8th of April, 1826, —the day for the duel, — had come, and almost the hour. It was noon, and the meeting was to take place at half-past four o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph 198 DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND KANDOLPH. before the hour, and for a purpose. I had heard nothing from him on the point of not returning the fire, since the first com- munication to that effect, eight days be- fore. I had no reason to doubt the steadi- ness of his determination ; but felt a desire to have some fresli assurance of it after so many daj's' delay, and so near approach of the trj'ing moment. I knew it would not do to ask him tlie question, — ■ any question that would imply a doubt of his word. So I fell upon a scheme to get at the inquiry without seeining to make it. I told him of my visit to Mrs. Clay the night before, — of the late sitting, — the child asleep, — the unconscious tranquillity '1 of Mrs. Clay ; and added. I could not help reflecting how different all that might be the next night. He understood me per- fectly, and immediately said, with a quietude of look and expression which seemed to rebuke an unworthy doubt, — " I shall do nothing to disturb the sleep of the child, or the repose of the motlier." Mr. Randolph at the same time went on with his employment — his seconds being engaged in their preparations in a different room, — which was, making codi- cils to his will, all in the way of remem- brance to friends ; the bequests slight in value, but invaluable in tenderness of feeling and beauty of expression, and always appropriate to the receiver. To Mr. Macon, he gave some English shil- lings, to keep the game when he played whist. His namesake, John Randolph Bryan, then at school in Baltimore, and afterwards married to his niece, was sent for to see him, but sent off before the hour for going out, to save the boy from a pos- sible shock of seeing him brought back. He wanted some gold, — that coin not being then in circulation, and only to be obtained by favor or purchase, — and sent his faithful man, Johnnj', to the United States Branch Bank, to get a few pieces, — American being the kind asked for. Johnny returned without the gold, and delivered the excuse that the bank had none. Instantly his clear silver-toned voice was heard above its natural pitch, exclaiming : " Their name is legion ! and they are liars from the beginning. Johnny, bring me my liorse." His own saddle- horse was brought him, for he never rode Johnny's, nor Johnny his, though both, and all his hundred horses, were of the finest English blood ; and he rode off to the bank, down Pennsj'lvania avenue, Johnny following, as always, forty paces behind. Arrived at the bank, the follow- ing scene transpired. Mr. Randolph asked for the state of liis account, was shown it, and found it to be some four thousand dol- lars in his favor. He asked for it. The teller took up packages of bills, and civilly asked in what sized notes he would have it. " I want money," said Mr. Randolph, putting emphasis on the word ; and at that time it required a bold man to intimate that United States Bank notes were not money. The teller, beginning to under- stand him, and willing to make sure, said, inquiringly : " You want silver ? " " I want my money" was the reply. "Have you a cart, Mr. Randolph, to DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 199 put it in ?" said the teller, politely, lifting boxes to the counter. " That is my business, sir," answered Randolph. By this time, the attention of the casliier was attracted to what was going on, who came up, and, understanding the question and its cause, told Mr. Randolph there was a mistake in the answer given to his servant ; that they had gold, and he should have what he wanted. In fact, he had only applied for a few pieces, which he wanted for a special purpose. This brought about a compromise. The pieces of gold were received, — the cart and the silver dispensed with. On returning, Randolph handed a sealed paper to Mr. Benton, which the latter was to open in case Randolph was killed, — give back to him if he was not ; also an open slip, which that senator was to read before he got to the ground. This slip was a request . to feel in his left breeches' pocket, if he was killed, and find so many pieces of gold, — Mr. Benton to take three for himself, and give the same number to Tatnall and Hamilton each, to make seals to wear in remembrance of him. He also remembered his friend Macon. They were all three at Mr. Randolph's lodgings, then, and soon set out, — Mr. Randolph and his seconds in a carriage, and Mr. Benton following him on horse- back. As has already been stated, the count was to be quick after giving the word ' Fire,' and for a reason which could not be told to the principals. To Mr. Randolph, who did not mean to fire, and who, though agreeing to be shot at, had no desire to be hit, this rapidit3''of counting out the time, and quick arrival of the command ' Stop,' presented no objection. With Mr. Clay it was different. With him it was all a real transaction, and gave rise to some proposal for more deliberateness in count- ingoff the time, which being communicated to Colonel Tatnall, (Randolph's friend.) and by him to Mr. Randolph, had an ill effect upon his feelings, and, aided by an untoward accident on the ground, unset- tled for a moment the noble determination which he had formed not to fire at Mr. Clay. General Jesup (Clay's friend,) states, that, when he repeated to Mr. Clay the 'word' in the manner in which it would be given, Mr. Clay expressed some apprehension that, as he was not accus- tomed to the use of the pistol, he might not be able to fire within the time, and for that reason alone desired that it might be prolonged. This desire of Mr. Clay was mentioned, on his behalf, to Colonel Tatnall, who replied, " If you insist upon it, the time must be prolonged, but I should very much regret it." The original agree- ment was carried out. Mr. Benton, how- ever, states that he himself knew nothing of all this, until it was too late to speak with the seconds or principals, he having crossed the Little Falls bridge just after them, and come to the place where the serv- ants and carriages had stopped. He saw none of the gentlemen, and supposed they had all gone to the spot where the ground was being marked off; but on speaking to Johnnj', Mr. Randoljjh, who was still in his carriage, and heard the voice, looked out from the window and said to Colonel Benton — " Colonel, since I saw you, and since I have been in this carriage, I have heard something which may make me change my determination. Colonel Hamilton will give you a note which will explain it." Colonel Hamilton was then in the car- riage, and in the course of the evening gave to Colonel Benton the note, of which Mr. Randolph spoke. Colonel Benton readily comprehended that this possible change of determination related to Ran- dolph's firing ; but the emphasis with which he pronounced the word ' way,' clearly showed that his mind was unde- cided, and left it doubtful whether he would fire or not. No further conversa- tion, however, took place between them — the preparations for the duel were finished — the parties went to their places. The place was a thick forest, and the immediate spot a little depression, or basin, in which the parties stood. Not 200 DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. far west of Bladensburg, just beyond the line wliich separates the federal city from the state of Maryland, a short distance off the road from Washington, is this dueling- ground, — a dingle, embosomed in a sun- burnt amphitheatre of trees, secluded, and from associations, no less than location, a dismal shrine, consecrated to human sacri- fices. On this spot, not long before the battle of Bladen:burg in the second war with England, a United States secretarj' of the treasury shot his antagonist, Mr. Gardenier, through the body, both mem- bers of congress, in a party duel. Deca- tur, surrounded by brother naval officers, fell there. A senator of the United States lost his life there, horribly fighting with muskets at pistol distance. Otlier vic- tims to the vanity of honor, so called, have lost or staked their lives on this field of blood. But never before, on that fatal field, was any scene enacted, comparable with tliat which was to witness a mortal con- test between Henry Claj' and John Ran- dolph. Not too highly has the graphic delineator of these dramatis persona; (Mr. Baldwin, in his "Party Leaders,") drawn the picture, in saj'ing that there stood on the hanks of the Potomac, on that bright April evenitiff, as the sun was declining hehiiid the high hills of Virginia, in the attitude of combatants, two -men, around whom gathered, prohabhj, a more stirring interest, than around any other two vien in the Union. And yet, their political opinions and personal history were as opposite as their persons, when they stood in their places. Against any and all insinuations of corruption, Mr. Clay might safely have left his reputation with the people. His splendid services as peace commissioner to Europe, with such col- leagues as Bayard, Gallatin, Russell and Adams ; his long period of statesman-like service in the house of representatives, succeeding repeatedly to the chair that had been dignified by Muhlenberg, Trum- bull, Dayton, Varnum, Cheves, and Bar- bour, — this his record should hava suf- ficed for his honor. The two were alike only in chivalry of bearing, integrity and independence of character, genius and pride. They had to all appearance met now to fight to the death with physical weapons, as they had met so often before, to do battle with the weapons of intellectual warfare. Their opposition had been unceasing. Each looked upon the other as, if not the ablest, at least as the most annoying and dreaded opponent of his political principles and personal aims. They were, in early life, and to some extent, still, representatives of different phases of American society. Randolph, born to aiHuence ; descended from a long and honored line ; accustomed alwaj'S to wealth, familj' influence, and the pride of aristocracy and official jrosition. Clay, on the other hand, born in obscurity, of humble parentage — the first man of his family known out of his county — " the mill-boy of the Slashes ; " but winning his way and rising rapidly, by his boldness and talents, to the very summit of public station and influence, so as to be stjded the " Great Commoner ; " — these were the two men, alike in splendid gifts of intel- lect, j-et so unlike in character and circum- stance, who now, weapon in hand, stood opposed in deadly conflict. As they took their stands, the princi- DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 201 pals saluted each other courteously, accord- ing to the usage of the ' code.' Colonel Tatnall had won the choice of position, which gave to General Jesup the delivery of the word. They stood on a line east and west; there was a small stump just behind Mr. Clay, and a low gravelly bank rose just behind Mr. Randolpli. The latter asked General Jesup to repeat the word as he would give it ; and while in the act of doing so, and Mr. liandolph adjusting the butt of his pistol to his hand, the muzzle pointing downwards, and almost to the ground, it fired. Instantly Mr. Randolph turned to Colonel Tatnall, and said, " I protested against that hair trigger." Colonel Tatnall took blame to himself for liaving sprung the hair. Mr. Clay had not then received his jiistol. Mr. Johnson, one of his seconds, was carrying it to him, and still several steps from him. This untimely fire, though clearly an acci- dent, necessarily gave rise to some re- marks, and a species of inquiry, which was conducted with the utmost delicacy, but which, in itself, was of a nature to be inexpressibly painful to a gentleman's feelings. Mr. Clay stopped it with the generous remark that the fire was clearly an accident, and it was so unanimously declared. Another pistol was immediately furnished; an exchange of sliots took place, and, happily, without effect upon tlie persons. Mr. Randolph's bullet struck the stump behind Mr. Clay, and Mr. Clay's knocked up the earth and gravel behind Mr. Randolph, and in a line with the level of his hips, both bullets having gone so true and close, that it was a marvel how tliey missed. The moment had now arrived when Colonel Benton felt that he could inter- pose. He accordingly went in among the parties, and offered his mediation. Noth- ing, however, could be done. Mr. Clay said, with that wave of the hand with which he was accustomed to put away a trifle, " This is child's play !" and required another fire. Mr. Randolph also demanded another fire. The seconds were directed to reload. While this was doing. Colonel Benton prevailed on Mr. Randolph to walk away from his post, and importuned him, more pressingly than ever, to yield to some accommodation. The colonel found him, however, more determined than ever before, and for the first time impatient, and seemingly annoyed and dissatisfied at such approaches. The accidental fire of his pistol preyed upon his feelings. He was doubly chagrined at it, both as a cir- cumstance susceptible in itself of an unfair interpretation, and as having been tlie immediate and controlling cause of his fir- ing at Mr. Clay. He regretted this fire the instant it was over. He felt that it had subjected him to imputations from which he knew himself to be free, — a desire to kill Mr. Clay, and a contempt for the laws of his state ; and the annoyances which he felt at these vexatious circum- stances revived his original determination, and decided him irrevocably to carry it out. It was in this interval that Mr. Ran- dolph told Colonel Benton what he had heard since they parted, and to which he alluded when speaking from the window of the carriage. It was to this effect : that he had been informed by Colonel Tatnall, that it was proposed to give out the words with more deliberateness, so as to prolong the time for taking aim. This information grated harshly upon his feelings. It unsettled his purpose, and brought his mind to the inquiry expressed in the following note, which he had immediately written in pencil, to apprise Colonel Benton of his possible change : " Information received from Colonel Tatnall since I got into the carriage may induce me to change my mind of not returning Mr. Clay's fire. I seek not his death. I would not have his blood upon my hands — it will not be upon my soul if shed in self-defense — for the world. He has determined, by the use of a long, pre- paratory caution by words, to get time to kill me. May I nut, then, disable him ? Yes, if I please." 202 DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. According to the statement of General Jesup, ali\'ady given, this ' information ' was a misapprehension, Mr. Clay not hav- ing a|)plied for a prolongation of time for the purpose of getting sure aim, but only to enable his unused hand, long unfa- miliar with the pistol, to fire within the limited time. There was no prolongation, in fact, either granted or insisted upon ; but Mr. Randolph was in doubt, and Gen- eral Jesup having won the word, he was having him repeat it in the wa^^ he was to give it out, when his finger touched the hair trigger. The inquiry, ' May I not disable him? ' was still on Mr. Randolph's mind, and dependent for its solution on the rising incidents of the moment, when the accidental fire of his pistol, gave the turn to his feelings which solved the was to disable him, and spoil his aim. And then he added, with the deepest feel- ing— '^ I would not have seen him, fall mor- ialbj, or even douhtfulbj, tcounded, for all the land that is icutered by the King oj Floods and all his tributary streams." Saying this, Mr. Randolph left Colonel Benton to resume his post, utterly refusing to explain out of the senate anything that he had said in it, and with the positive declaration that he would not return the next fire. Colonel Benton concludes his reminiscences of this most remarkable affair, as follows: I withdrew a little waj- into the woods, and kept my eyes fixed upon Mr. Randolph, whom I then knew to be the only one in danger. I saw him receive the fire of Mr. Clay, saw the DUELIXG-GROrXn AT DLAnENSBlRG. doubt. But he .afterwards declared to Colonel Benton, that he had not aimed at the life of Mr. Clay ; that he did not level as high as the knee — not higher than the knee-band, ' for it was no mercy to shoot a man in the knee;' that his only object gravel knocked up in the same place, saw Mr. Randolph raise his pistol, — discharge it into the air, — heard him say, " I do not fire at you, Mr. Clnij," — and immediately advancing, and offering his hand. He was met in the cr.me spirit. They met DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 203 half-way, shook hands, Mr. Eandolph say- ing jocosely, " You owo me a coat, Mr. Clay" — (the bullet had passed through the skirt of the coat, very near the hip) — to which Mr. Clay promptly and haj)- pily replied, " I am glad the. debt is no yreater." I had come up, and was prompt to proclaim what I had been obliged to keep secret for eight days. The joy of all was extreme at this happy termination of a most critical affair, and we immediately left, with lighter hearts than we brought, I stopped to sup with Mr. Eandolph and his friends, — none of us wanted dinner, — and had a characteristic time of it. A runner came in from the bank, to say that they had overpaid him, by mistake, one hundred and thirty dollars that day. Mr. Randoljjh answered, '• I believe it is j-our rule not to correct mistakes, except at the time and at your counter." And with that answer the runner had to return. When gone, Mr. Randolph said, ''I will pay it on Monday ; people must be honest, if banks are not." He asked for the sealed paper he had given me, opened it, took out a check for one thousand dollars, drawn in my favor, and with which I was requested to have him carried, if killed, to Virginia, and buried under his patri- monial oaks, — not let him be buried at Washington, with an hundred hacks after him. He took the gold from his left breeches pocket, and said to ns (Hamil- ton, Tatnall, and I), — " Gentlemen, Claj^'s bad shooting shan't rob you of your seals. I am going to London, and will have them made for you." This he did (says Colonel Benton), and most characteristically, so far as mine was concerned. He went to the heraldry oflSce in London, and inquired for the Benton family, of which I had often told him there was none, as we only dated on that side from my grandfather in North Caro- lina. But the name was found, and with it a coat of arms, — among the quarterings a lion rampant. "This is the family," said he ; and had the arms engraved on the seal. The account given by General James Hamilton, of this duel, states that, in company with Colonel Tatnall, he repaired, at midnight, to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, and found him reading Milton's great poem. For some moments he did not per- mit them to say one word in relation to the approaching duel, for he at once com- menced one of those delightful criticisms on a passage of this poet, in which he was wont so enthusiastically to indulge. After a pause, Colonel Tatnall remarked : "Mr. Randolph, I am told you have determined not to return Mr. Clay's fire ; I must say to you, my dear sir, if I am only to go out to see j'ou shot down, you must find some other friend." "Well, Tatnall," said Mr. Randolph, after much conversation on the subject, " I promise you one thing; if I see the devil in C/dt/'s eye, and that, with malice pre- 2>ense, he means to take mij life, I may change my mind." As the sequel showed, however, he saw no ' devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fear- less, and expressing the mingled sensi- bility and firmness pertaining to the occasion. For, whilst Tatnall was load- ing Mr. Randolph's pistol, Hamilton ap- proached Randolph, took his hand, — in the touch of which there was not the quivering of one pulsation, — and then, turning to Hamilton, Randoljih said: " Clay is calm, but not vindictive ; I hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event; remeniher this." On Randolph's pistol going off without the word. General Jesup, Mr. Clay's friend, called out that he would instantly leave the ground with his friend, if that occurred again. On the word being given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr. Randolph discharging his pistol in the air. On seeing this, Mr. Clay instantly approached Mr. Randolph, and with a gush of the deepest emotion, said, — " / trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched; after what has occurred, I ivould not have harmed you for a thou- sand vorlds /" On the ensuing Monday, Mr. Clay and 204 DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND KANDOLPH. Mr. Randolph formally exchanged cards, and their relations of amity and courtesy were restored. Many of Mr. Clay's warmest political friends, at the north and west, deeply regretted that he should resort to what they deemed so immoral and barbarous a mode of vindicating his character, as that of the duello. But this was soon forgotten, and his political career continued to be one of great brilliancy and power. He soon succeeded General John Adair, as senator from Kentucky ; and again, in 1831, was elected over Richard M. John- son, to the same high cost. He was dis- appointed, however, in his aspirations for the presidency, though great enthusiasm was manifested for the ticket which, in 1831, bore his name at its head, with John Sergeant for vice-president. The other political duels which have excited great interest in the public mind, during the century, were those of Lee and Laurens, Cadwallader and Conway, Guinnett and Mcintosh, Hamilton and Burr, DeWitt Clinton and Swartwout, Cilley and Graves, Broderick and Terry. General Jackson and Colonel Benton were also parties to several duels, the former killing Mr. Dickinson, and the latter a Air. Lucas. XXV. THE "GREAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE, IX COXGRESS.— 1830. Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence. — Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be tlie Grandest Forensic Achievement in the Whole Range of Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American Oratory.— Unprec"'''"ifed Interest and Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No American Debate Comparable with This. — Known as the "Battle of the Giants " — Inflamed Feeling at the South. — Hayne's Brilliant Championship. — His Speech Against the North. — Profound Impression Created — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity — Bitter and Sweeping Charges. — His Opponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Reply. — An Ever-Memorable Day. — Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — Magnificent Personal Appearance. — His Exordium, all Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range — Copious and Crushing Logic. — Accumulative Grandeur of Thought. — Thrilling Apostrophe to the Union. — The Serious, Comic, Pathetic, etc — Hayne's Argument Demolished. — Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival Orators; Pleasant Courtesies. " It has been my fortune to hear some of the ablest apeechea of the greatest living orators on both aides of the water, but I must conftes 1 never heard anvthinz wiiich so completelv realized my coneeptioQ of what Demoetheoee was when be delivered the Oration for the Crown." — EUWAED EVEKKIT ON WeBSTER'S SpEECH. jHE remark made by a distinguished public man, that to have heard the great national debate in the senate of the United States, between Webster of Massachusetts and Hayne of South Carolina, "con- stituted an era in a man's life," is an expression worthy of being expanded into the far more com- mensurate statement that the debate in question constituted an era of far-reaching influence and importance, in the political history of the nation. It was, indeed, the greatest forensic exhibition this country has ever witnessed, and, though nearly half a century has elapsed since its occurrence, and the immediate participants and their official contemporaries have, almost all of them, long since passed to the sphere of another existence, the occasion still furnishes, and will continue to furnisli to future generations, one of the most instructive chapters in the annals of national affairs. Well has the debate been called ' the battle of the giants' Fortunately for those who would wish, in after time, to inform themselves with ref- erence to the principles involved and the chief actors engaged in this great debate, THE VICTOR S WREATH. 206 DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. the memorials of the occasion furnished by Mr. March, and, subsequently, by Mr. Lanin in, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Clark, Edward Everett, and others, leave nothing to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are adoi)ted by Mr. Everett, in his memoirs of Mr. Webster, and, in an abridged form, are given below, in connection with the perspicuous statements of Tefft and others relating to the general issue. The speech was also reported by Mr. Joseph Gales, at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio, and other senators. On canvas, too, Hea- ley, the master-painter, lias commem- orated in an enduring manner, the orator and the occasion. The subject of discussion before the senate, in the persons of these two intel- lectual gladiators, grew out of a resolution brought forward by Senator Foot, of Con- necticut, just at the close of the previous year, with a view to some arrangement concerning the sale of the j)ublic lands. But this immediate question was soon lost sight of in the discussion of a great, vital principle of constitutional law, namely : the relative powers of the states and the national government. Upon this, Mr. Benton and Mr. Hayne addressed the senate, condemning the policy of the east- ern states, as illiberal toward the west. Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of Nevk' England and of the policy of the government. It was then that Mr. Hayne made his attack — sudden, unexpected, and certainly unexampled, — on Mr. Webster personally, upon Massachusetts and the other northern states politically, and upon the constitution itself; in respect to the latter, Mr. Hayne taking the position, that it is constitutional to interrupt the admin- istration of the constitution itself, in the hands of those who are chosen and sworn to administer it, by the direct interference, in form of law, of the states, in virtue of their sovereign capacity. All of these points were handled by Mr. Hayne with that rhetorical brilliancj' and power which characterized him as the oratorical cham- pion of the south, on the floor of the senate ; and it is not saying too much, that the speech produced a profound im- pression. Air. Hayne's great effort appeared to be the result of premeditation, concert and arrangement. He selected his own time, and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to Mr. Webster, for, at that moment, the supreme court were proceeding in the hearing of a cause of great importance, in which he was a leading counsel. For this reason, lie requested, through a friend, a postjjonement of the debate ; Mr. Hayne objected, however, and the request was refused. The time, the matter, and the manner, indicated that the attack was made with a design to crush so formidable a political opponent as Mr. Webster had become. To this end, jiersonal history, the annals of New England and of the federal party, were ransacked for materi- als. It was attempted, with the usual partisan unfairness of political harangue?, to make him responsible, not only fr. what was his own, but for the conduct and opin- ions of others. All the errors and delin- quencies, real or supjiosed, of Massachu- setts, and the eastern states, and of the federal party, during the war of 1812, and, indeed, prior and subsequent to that period, were accumulated upon him. Thus it was, that Mr. Hajme heralded his speech with a bold declaration of war, with taunts and threats, vaunting antici- pated triumph, as if to paralyze by intimi- dation; saying that he would carry the war into Africa, until lie had obtained indemnity for the past and security for the future. It was sujiposed that, as a distm- guished representative man, Mr. Webster would be driven to defend what was inde- fensible, and to uphold what could not be sustained, and, as a federalist, to oppose the popular resolutions of '98. The severe nature of ]\Ir. Hayne's charges, the ability with which he brought them to bear upon his opponents, his great reputation as a brilliant and powerful declainier, filled the minds of his friends with anticipations of complete triumph. For two daj's, Mr. Hayne had the control of the floor. The vehemence of his Ian- DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 2U7 guajre and the earnestness of his manner gave added force to the excitement of the occasion. So fluent and melodious was liis elocution, that his cause naturally begat sympathy. No one had time to deliberate upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweep- ing and accumulated statements. The dashing nature of the onset ; the assurance, almost insolence, of its tone ; the serious character and apparent truth of the accu- sations, confounded almost every hearer. The immediate impression from the speech was most assuredly disheartening to the cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratula- tions from almost every quarter were show- ered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said, in the full senate, that much as Mr. Hayne had done before to establish his reputation as an orator, a statesman, a patriot, and a gallant son of the south, the efforts of that day would eclipse and surpass the whole. Indeed, the speech was extolled as the greatest effort of the time, or of other times, — neither Chatham, nor Burke, nor Fox, had surpassed it, in their palmiest days. Satisfaction, however, with the speech, even among the friends of the orator, was not unanimous. Some of the senators knew, for they had felt, Mr. Webster's power. They knew the great resources of his mind; the immense range of his intel- lect; the fertility of his imagination; his copious and fatal logic; the scathing sever- ity of his sarcasm, aijd his full and electri- fying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own feelings with reference to the speech were freely expressed to his friend, Mr. Everett, the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's clos- ing effort. He regarded the speech as an entirely unprovoked attack upon the north, and, what was of far more importance, as an exposition of a system of politics, which, in Mr. Webster's opinion, went far to change the form of government from that which was established by the consti- tution, into that which existed under the confederation, — if the latter could be called a government at all. He stated it to be his intention, therefore, to put that theory to rest forever, as far as it could be done by an argument in the senate-chamber. How grandly he did this, is thus vividly portrayed by JNIr. March, an eye-witness, and whose account has been adopted by all historians : It was on Tuesdaj', January the twenty- sixth, 1830, — a day to be hereafter forever memorable in senatorial annals, — that the senate resumed the consideration of Foot's resolution. There was never before in the city, an occasion of so much excitement. To witness this great intellectual contest, multitudes of strangers had for two or ROBERT V. UAVNE. three days previous been rushing into the city, and the hotels overflowed. As early as nine o'clock in the morning, crowds poured into the capitol, in hot haste ; at twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the senate-chamber, — its galleries, floor, and even the lobbies,— was tilled to its utmost capacity. The very stairways were dark with men, who hung on to one another, like bees in a swarm. The house of representatives was early deserted. An adjournment wouhl hardly have made it emptier. The speaker, it is true, retained his chair, but no business of moment was, or could be, attended to. Meniliers all rushed in, to hear Mr. Web- ster, and no call of the house, or other par- liamentary proceedings, could compel them back. The floor of the senate was so 208 DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. densely crowded, that persons once in could not get out, nor change their posi- tion. In the rear of the vice-president's chair, the crowd was particularly dense; Hon. Dixon H. Lewis, then a representa- tive from Alabama, became wedged in here. From his enormous size, it was impossible for him to move without dis- placing a vast portion of the multitude ; unfortunatelj^, too, for him, he was jammed in directly behind the chair of the vice-president, where he could not see, and could hardly hear, the speaker. By slow and laborious effort — pausing occasionally to breathe — he gained one of the windows, which, constructed of painted glass, flanked the chair of the vice-president on either side. Here he paused, unable to make more headway. But determined to see Mr. Webster, as he spoke, with his knife he made a large hole in one of the panes of glass. The courtesj' of senators ac- corded to the fairer sex room on the floor — the most gallant of them, their own seats. Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or any other country, had more powerful incentives to exertion ; a subject, the determination of which involved the most important interests, and even duration, of the republic ; competitors, unequaled in reputation, abilit}-, or position ; a name to make still more renowned, or lose forever; and an audience, comprising not only American citizens most eminent in intel- lectual greatness, but representatives of other nations, where the art of eloquence had flourished for ages. Mr. Webster perceived, anu felt equal to, the destinies of the moment. The very greatness of the hazard exhilarated him. His spirits rose with the occasion. He awaited the time of onset with a stern and impatient joy. He felt, like the war-horse of the scriptures, who * paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : who goetli on to meet the armed men, — who s lyeth among the trumpets, ha, ha ! and who smelleth the battle afar off, the thun- der of the captains and the shouting.' A confidence in his resources, springing from no vain estimate of his power, but the legitimate offspring of previous severe mental discipline, sustained and excited him. He had gauged his opponents, his subject, and himself. He was, too, at this period, in the very prime of manhood. He had reached middle age — an era in the life of man, when the faculties, physical or intellectual, may be supposed to attain their fullest organization, and most perfect development. Whatever there was in him of intellectual energy and vitality, the occasion, his full life and high ambition, might well bring forth. He never rose on an ordinary occasion to address an ordinary audience more self- possessed. There was no tremulousness in his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, nothing simulated. The calmness of supe- rior strength was visible everywhere ; in countenance, voice, and bearing. A deep- seated conviction of the extraordinary character of the emergencj', and of his ability to control it, seemed to possess him wholly. If an observer, more than ordi- narily keen-sighted, detected at times something like exultation in his eye, he presumed it sprang from the excitement of the moment, and the anticipation of victory. The anxiet}' to hear the speech was so intense, irrepressible, and universal, that no sooner had the vice-president assumed the chair, than a motion was made and unanimously carried, to postpone the ordi- nary preliminaries of senatorial action, and to take up immediately the consideration of the resolution. Mr. Webster rose and addressed the senate. His exordium is known by heart everj'where : " Mr. President, when the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails himself of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of the sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how far the elements have driven him from his true course. Let us imitate this prudence ; and before we float further, on the waves of this debate, refer to the point from which we departed, that we may, at least, DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 20y be able to form some conjecture where we now are. I ask for the reading of the res- olution." Calm, resolute, impressive, was this opening utterance. There wanted no more to enchain the attention. There was a sjjontaneous, though silent, expression of eager approba^ tion, as the orator concluded these opening remarks. And while the clerk read the resolution, many attempted the impossibil- ity of getting nearer the speaker. Every head was inclined closer towards him, every ear turned in the direction of his voice — and that deep, sudden, mysterious silence followed, which always attends full- ness of emotion. From the sea of up- turned faces before him, the orator beheld his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. The varying countenance, the suffused eye, the earnest smile, and ever-attentive look, assured him of the intense interest excited. If, among his hearers, there were those who affected at first an indifference to his glowing thoughts and fervent periods, the difficult mask was soon laid aside, and profound, undisguised, devoted attention DANIEL WEBSTER. followed. In truth, all, sooner or later, vc/lmitarily, or in spite of themselves, were wholly carried away by the spell of such unexampled forensic eloquence. Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's ability to cope with and overcome his opponents were fully satisfied of their error before he had proceeded far in his speech. Their fears soon took another direction. When they heard his sentences of powerful thought, towering in accumu- lative grandeur, one above the other, as if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach the very heavens themselves, they were giddy with an apprehension that he would break down in his flight. They dared not believe, that genius, learning, — any intel- lectual endowment, however uncommon, that was simply mortal, — could sustain itself long in a career seemingly so peril- ous. They feared an Icarian fall. No one, surely, could ever forget, who was present to hear, the tremendous — the awful — burst of eloquence with which the orator apostrophized the old Bay State which Mr. Hayue had so derided, or the tones of deep pathos in which her defense was pronounced : " Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts. There she is — behold her and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, — and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great struggle for independence, now lie min- gled with the soil of every state, from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it — if party- strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it — if folly and madness — if uneas- iness under salutary and necessary re- straint, — shall succeed to separate it from that Union, bj' which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked : it will stretch fortJi its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gather round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory. 210 DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. and on the very sjiot of its origin." No New EnghuiJ heart but throbbed with vehement, absorbed, irrepressible emotion, as Mr. Webster tluis dwelt upon New England sufferings, New England strug- gles, and New England triumphs, during the war of the revolution. There was scarcely a dry eye in the senate ; all hearts were overcome ; grave judges, and men grown old in dignified life, turned aside their heads, to conceal the evidences of their emotion. In one corner of the gallery was clus- tered a group of Massachusetts men. They had hung from the first moment upon the words of the speaker, with feel- ings variousl}' but always warmly excited, deepening in intensity as he jiroceeded. At first, while the orator was going through liis exordium, they lield their breath and liirevented. On Mr. Webster's acces- sion to the state department, our govern- ment proposed, through Mr. Webster, to the British cabinet, to take up the north- eastern boundary question. The offer was accepted by the British, who sent, as spe- cial envoy. Lord Ashburton, to whom was committed the boundary and other contro- verted questions. The consultations be- tween Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton led to a treaty which settled the boundary, put down the claim to visit our vessels, and provided for the mutual surrender of fugitives from justice. For the affair of the Caroline, an apology was made by Great Britain. The fame of Mr. Webster, as an orator, a statesman, and an expounder of public law, thus became world-wide and unrivaled. XXVI. RISE AXD PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER- DAY SAINTS," UNDER JOSEPH SMITH, THE "PROPHET OF THE LORD."— 1830. His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth anfl Converts Obtained in All Parts of tlie World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Zion." — Smith's Character. — Uemoval to Utah, the "Promised Land." — Smith the "Mohammed of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews. — Revela- tions of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them. — Secret History of this Transaction. — Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teachings of the Mormon Bible. — Smith Claims to be Inspired — Announced as a Second Savior. — Organization of the Firsi Church. — Strange Title Adopted. — Smith's Great Personal Influence. — Rapid Increase of the Sect — Settlement at the West. — Violent Opposition to Them — Outrages, Assassinations, Riots. — Polygamy "Divinely" Author- ized. — Smith in Jail as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furious Mob. — Brigham Young His Suc- cessor. — The " New Jerusalem." — " Anfl with a piece nf scripture Tell flieiii.— thai (ii>d bids 119 ilit p.)...l for evil. And Ihua 1 clothe my iia^ed villainy ■With .hi odd mrli. ftol'n forth of llcilv Writ. Aiidbcuinuaaiut, wtieii mustXpluy the devil." F the many oracular predictions indulged in hy trans- Atlantic wiseacres, concerning the future of American history, not one of them has had .so accurate and remarkable a fulfillment as that made by Robert Southej', the great English poet and historian, in 1829, and which ran as follows : " The next Aaron Burr who seeks to carve a kingdom for himself out of the overgrown territories of the Union, may discern that fanaticism is the most effective weapon with which ambition can arm itself; that the way for both is prepared by that immorality which the want of religion naturally and necessarily induces, and that camp-meetings may be very well directed to forward the designs of military prophets. Were there another IMohammed to arise, there is no part o£ the world where he would find more scope or fairer opportunity than in that part of the Anglo-American Union into which the older states continuallj' discharge the restless part of their population, leaving laws and Gospel to overtake it if they can, for in the march of modern civilization both are left behind." This ]>rophecy was uttered long before even the name of 'Mormon ' had been heard in the west, and, bating the hermit-iioet's very natural fling at camp-meetings, and his English cant about American immorality, is worthy of a seer. RISE AJSTD PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 215 Joseph Smith, the Mohammed of the "West, — founder of the sect called Mor- inoiis, or Latter-Day Saints, — was born in Sharon, Vermont, December 23, ISOiJ, and met a violent death at Carthage, Illinois, in his thirty-ninth year. In 1815, he re- moved with his father to Palmyra, New York, and here they sustained an unen- viable reputation, for idleness, intemper- ance, dishonest}-, and other immoralities. Joseph was especiall}- obnoxious in these respects ; and, having never received any education, he could scarcely so much as read and write when he had attained to manhood, and whatever he put forth to the world, under his own name, was written or composed by another hand. According to his own account of him- self, liis mind was at a very early age exercised religiously, and, on the evening of September 21st, when he was but eighteen years old, the angel Moroni — a glorious being from Heaven — appeared before him, as a messenger from the Lord, instructing him in the secret jjur- poses of the Most High, and announcing the divine will to be that he. Smith, should become a spiritual leader and com- mander to the nations of the earth. He was also told that there was a bundle of golden or metallic plates deposited in a hill in Manchester, New York (to which place Smith had removed in 1819), whi h plates contained some lost biblical records, and with which were two transparent stones, set in the rim of a bow of silver, which were anciently known as the Urim and Thummim; by looking through these stones, he could see the strange characters on the plates translated into plain English. These plates were about eight inches long by seven wide, and a little thinner than ordinary tin, and were bound together by three rings running through the whole. Altogether they were about six inches thick, and were neatly engraved on each side with hierogh'phics in a language called the Reformed Egyptian, not then known on the earth. From these plates, Smith, sitting behind a blanket hung across the room to keej) the sacred records from profane eyes, read off, through the transparent stones, the "Book of Mor- mon," or Golden Bible, to Oliver Cowder}', who wrote it down as Smith read it. It was jn-inted in 1830, in a volume of several hundred pages. Appended to it was a statement .signed l)y Oliver Cow- dery, David AYliitmer, and Martin Harris, who had become professed believers in Smith's supernatural pretensions, and are called by the Mormons, the "three wit- nesses." In after years, however, these witnesses quarreled with Smith, renounced Mormonism, and avowed the falsity of their testimonj'. It is charged by the opponents of Smith, that the book in question was not the production of Smith, in anj- wise, but of the Rev. Solomon Spalding, who wrote it as a sort of romance, and that it was seen and stolen by Sidney Rigdon, after- wards Smith's right-hand man. Spalding had become involved in his pecuniary affairs, and wrote this work, intending to have it printed and publi.shed, and with the proceeds to pay his debts. Tlie book was entitled "Manuscript Found." It was an historical romance of the first set- tlers of America, endeavoring to show that the American Indians are the descendants of the Jews or the lost tribes. It gave a detailed account of their journey from Jerusalem, by land and sea, till they arrived in America under the command of Nephi and Lehi. They afterward had quarrels and contentions, and sej)arated into two distinct nations, one of which he denominated Nephites and the other Lam- anites. Cruel and bloody wars ensued, in which great multitudes were slain. They buried their dead in large heaps, which caused the mounds, so common in this country. Their arts, sciences, and civiliz- ation were brought into view, in order to account for all the curious antiquities, found in various parts of North and South America. Abundant testimonj' was ad- duced from the wife, brother, and business partner of Spalding, to whom portions of the work had been read while it was in course of preparation, proving that the 216 RISE AND PROGEESS OF THE MORMONS. Mormon bible was made up of identically the same matter, combined with portions of the true Scripture. Mr. Spalding's business partner, Mr. Miller, testified on oath as follows : 'I have recently examined the Book of Mormon, and find in it the writings of Solomon Spalding, from beginning to end, but mixed up with Scripture and other religious matter, which I did not meet in the 'Manuscript Found.' Many of the passages in the Mormon book are verbatim from Spalding, and others in part. The names of Nephi, Lehi, Moroni, and in fact all the principal names, are brought fresh to my recollection by the gold bible.' Mr. Spalding wrote his manuscript in 1812; he afterwards removed to Pitts- burg, Pennsylvania, where he died in 1816. His manuscript remained in the printing-office a long time, and in this ofiice Rigdon was a workman. There is the best evidence, therefore, that the so-called Mormon bible had for its basis the matter contained in Mr. Spalding's work. Rigdon, however, had at first no open connection with Smith, and was con- verted by a special mission sent into his neighborhood in 1830. From the time of Rigdon's conversion, the progress of Mor- monism was wonderfully rapid, he being a man of more than common cunning and capacity. It may be of interest here to state, that a transcript on paper, of one of the golden plates, having been submitted to Prof. Charles Anthon, of New York, for his inspection, that eminent scholar gave, as his statement, that the paper was in fact a kind of singular scroll, consisting of all kinds of crooked characters, disposed in columns, and had evidently been pre- pared by some person who had before him at the time a book containing various alphabets, Greek, and Hebrew letters, crosses and flourishes ; Roman letters, in- verted or placed sideways, were arranged and placed in perpendicular columns ; and the whole ended in a rude delineation of a circle, divided into various compartments, decked with various strange marks, and evidentlv conied after the Mexican calen- dar given by Humboldt, but copied in such a way as not to betray the source. The Mormon theology teaches that there is one God, the Eternal Father, his son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost ; that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam's transgressions ; that through the atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel, these ordinances being faith in the Lord Jesus, repentance, baptism by im- mersion for the remission of sins, lay- ing on of hands by the gift of the Holy Ghost, and the Lord's Supper ; that man must be called of God by inspiration, and by laying on of hands from those who are duly commissioned to preach the gospel and administer the ordinances thereof ; that the same organization that existed in the primitive church, viz., apostles, prophets, pastors, evangelists, etc., should be maintained now ; that the powers and gifts of faith, discerning of spirits, prophecy, revelations, visions, healing, tongues, and the interpretation of tongues, still exist ; that the word of God is recorded in the Bible, and in the Book of Mormon, and in all other good books ; that there are now being revealed, and will continue to be revealed, many more great and important things pertaining to the kingdom of God and Messiah's second coming; that there is to be a literal gathering of Israel, and the restoration of the ten tribes ; that Zion will be estab- EISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 217 lished upon the western continent ; that Christ will reign personally upon the earth a thousand years, and the earth will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory ; that there is to be a literal resur- rection of the body, and that the rest of the dead live not again until tlie thousand years have expired; that the privilege belongs to all, of unmolested worship of God, according to the dictates of conscience ; that all persons are to be subject to kings, queens, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obej'ing, honoring, and sustaining the law ; that God, having be- come nearly lost to man, revived his work, by revealing himself to Joseph Smith, and conferring upon him the keys of the ever- lasting priesthood, thus making him the mediator of a new dispensation, which is immediately to precede the second coming of Christ ; that all those who recognize the divine authority of Smith, and are bap- tized by one having authority, are the chosen people of God, who are to intro- duce the millennium, and to reign with Christ, on the earth, a thousand years. The doctrine of direct revelation from Heaven was at first applied in a general sense, and any one firm in the faith, and who stood high in the church, received visions and revelations. But this soon became trouble- some, — the revelations often clashed with each other and led to many annoyances, and the power of receiving revelations was therefore, in course of time, confined to the presidency, in whom the supreme authority of the church rests. This presi- dency consists of the president and his two counselors ; the First President is, however, supreme, and there is no resist- ance to his decrees. Next in authority in the church is the apostolic college, which is composed of twelve apostles, who form a kind of ecclesiastical senate, but a por- tion of them are generally on missions, taking charge of the different branches of the church in other parts of the world. After these come the high priests, who, together with the elders, compose the body politic of the church, whose duty it is to carry out and enforce its decrees and regulations. These high priests and elders are divided into societies, called quorums of seventies, and every quorum preserves on its records a complete genealon-y of each of its members. Among the dignitaries of the church, the patriarch stands eminent. He holds his office for life; all other stations are filled with candidates nominated by the presidency and elected annually in con- vention by the body of the church. Th« bishops also are conspicuous and important officers, for it is their duty to collect the tithing, to inspect once a week every family in their ward or district, and to examine strictly into their temporal and spiritual affairs. In order to do this more thoroughly, each bishop is assisted by two counselors. The bishop also adjudicates and settles all difficulties occurring be- tween persons residing in his ward, though from his decision an appeal can be made to the high council. This is a tribunal consisting of fifteen men selected from among the high priests, twelve of whom sit as jurors and hear the testimony of witnesses in the case, and then by voting make a decision — a majority on one side or the other deciding the question ; the remaining three, as judges, render judg- ment as to the costs or punishment. From this court the only appeal is to the presi- dencj'. The first regularly constituted church of the Mormon faith was organized in Manchester, N. Y., April sixth, 1830, and from this time and event dates the Mor- mon era. It began with six members or elders being ordained, viz., Joseph Smith, sen., Hyrum Smith, Joseph Smitb, jr., Samuel Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph Knight. The sacrament was adminis- tered, and hands were laid on for the gift of the Holy Ghost on this first occasion in the church. The first public discourse was preached by Cowdery, setting forth the principles of the gospel as revealed to Smith, April eleventh ; and during the same month the first miracle was per- formed, "by the power of God," in Coles- viUe, N. Y. 218 RISE AND PllOGEESS OF THE MORMONS. On the first of June, 1830, tlie first con- ference of the churcli was held at Fayette, N. Y., and soon after, Messrs. Pratt and Rigdon united publicly with the order. Meanwhile, converts multiplied rajiidlj'. Early in 1831, Smith set out for Kirt- land, Ohio, which, for a time, became the chief city of his followers. The elders soon received command to go forth in pairs and preach, the Melchizedek or sujjerior priesthood being first conferred upon them in June. A considerable body of Mor- mons transferred themselves to Jackson county, Missouri, in the summer of this year. So rapidly did their numbers aug- ment in this region, that the older settlers became alarmed, and held public meetings protesting against the continuance of the sect in their neighborhood. Among the resolutions passed at these meetings was one requiring the Mormon paper to be stopped, but, as this was not immediately complied with, the office of the paper was destroyed. Finally, they agreed to re- move from that county' into Clay county, across the Missouri, before doing which, however, houses were destroyed, men whipped, and some lives were lost on both sides. These outrages, according to the annals given by Perkins, kindled the wrath of the pro]ihet at Kirtland, who took steps to bring about a great gathering of his disciples, and, marshaling them as an army, in May, 1834. he startt'd for ]Mis- souri, which in due time he reached, but with no other result than the transfer of a certain jiortion of his followers as per- manent residents in a section already too full of them. At first, the citizens of Clay county were friendly to the perse- cuted ; but ere long, trouble grew up, and the wanderers were once more forced to seek a new home, to insure their safety. This home they found in Caldwell count}', where, by permission of the neighbors and state legislature, they organized a county government, the country having been jire- viously unsettled. In addition to the stirring scenes al- ready recorded, some of the more important events in the history and continued prog- ress of this sect may be stated briefly as follows. The j-ear 1832 was distinguished \>y the tarring and feathering of Smith and Rigdon by a mob, for attempting to establish communism, and for alleged dis- honorable dealing, forger}', and swindling, in connection with the Kirtland Safety Society Bank, founded bj' them ; the conversion of Mr. Brigham Young, and his baptism bj' Eleazer Millard, also the baptism of Mr. Heber C. Kimball ; and the es- tablishment of the first Mormon periodical, b}' Mr. W. W. Phelps. In 1833, the gift of tongues was conferred; the re-tran.slation of the bible finished; Bishop Partridge became the ecclesias- tical head of the church in Zion ; the 'Missouri Enquirer' was es- tablished by Messrs. Davis and Kelley. At a conference of elders in Kirtland, May 3, 1834, the body ecclesiastic was first named " The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." In 1835, a quorum of twelve apostles was organized, among whom were Brigham Young and H. C. Kimball, the former, being then thirty-four years old, assuming the head- ship of the apostolic college, and, receiv- ing the gift of tongues, was sent on a EISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 219 missionary tour toward the east. Young was so devoted a disciple of Mormonism, that he said of Smith, its founder : " The doctrine ho teaclies is all I know about the matter ; bring anything against that, if you can. As to anything el.->e, I do not care if he acts like a devil; ho has brought forth a doctrine that will save us, if we will abide by it. He may get drunk every daj^ of his life, sleep with his neigh- bor's wife every night, run horses and gamble ; I do not care anj'thing about that, for I never embrace any man in my faith." Rigdon was equally bold and lawless ; who declared, in behalf of the prophet and his followers, in a sermon preached at Far West, to a great concourse, "We take God and all the holy angels to witness tliis day, that we warn all men, in the name of Jesus Christ, to come on us no more forever. The man, or the set of men, who attempts it, does it at the expense of their lives. And that mob that comes on us to disturb us, it shall be between them and us a war of extermina- tion, for we will follow them till the last drop of their blood is spilled, or else they will have to exterminate us. For we will carry the seat of war to their own liouses and their own families, and one party or the other shall be utterly destroyed." On the 20th of July, 1S37, Elders Kim- ball, Hyde, Richards, Goodson, Russell, and Priest Fielding, sailed from New York for Liverpool, to preach and propa- gate Mormonism, and proselytes multi- plied, especially in northern Europe, so plausibly was Smith's imposture set be- fore them ; multitudes of these converts, male and female, emigrated to the " prom- ised land." The next year was dis- tinguished by continued scenes of violence, attended with bloodshed and death, be- tween the people of Missouri and the Mormons, among the killed being Captain Fearnot, alias Patten, leader of the Danite band. Smith, and his brother Hyrum, together with such kindred spirits as Young, Phelps, Pratt, Hedlock, Turley, Rockwell, Higbee, were particularly ob- noxious to the hatred of the Missourians ; and, throughout all tlie western states, no curse that could come upon a neighbor- hood was considered so great as that of the advent of Mormon settlers. Early in the summer of 1839, Smith visited the town of Commerce, in Illinois, at the invitation of Dr. Isaac Galland, of whom he obtained, gratis, a large tract of land, to induce the Mormons to immigrate, and upon receipt of revelation called his people around him, and sold them the town lots. This pl.ice was afterward called Nauvoo, "the beautiful site," and soon nun.bereil thousands of souls; the build- ing of the famous temple was commenced the next year. Polygamy dates from about this time, being authorized as Smith's privilege, according to a "revela- tion" received by him. Smith was re- peatedly arrested in 1842-3-4, on charges of murder, treason, and adulter^-, but managed either to escape or be acquitted, until the fatal summer of 1844. The greatest crimes charged against him were those testified to by some of his once devoted but afterwards disgusted and seceding disciples, and who would have been glad to execute summary vengeance upon his head. The exasperation produced by the Mor- mons murdering Lieutenant Governor Boggs (under Governor Dunklin), of Mis- souri, in May, 1843, was widespread and most intense, and the swarming of the sect into Illinois, caused the inhabitants of the latter to .irm themselves. Governor Ford, of Illinois, persuaded the Smiths, under jiledge of his word, to j'ield up their arms, and sent them prisoners, under the charge of sixty militia men, to Car- thage. Here the prisoners were at once arrested for treason. Instead of being confined in cells, the two Smiths, at the instance of their friends, were put into the debtors' room of the prison, and a guard assigned for their securitj'. But, on the 27th of June, 1844, a large body of exasperated and lawless men, with their faces painted and blackened, broke into the jail, and summarily killed both Joseph 220 KISE AND PEOGRESS OF THE MORMONS. and Hyrum Smith, and instantly fled. In his struggle against the mob, the prophet attempted, as a last resort, to leap from the rrlndow, when two balls jsierced him from the door, one of which entered his right breast, and he staggered lifeless, exclaim- ing, ' Lord, my God!' He fell on his left side, a dead man. The excitement in all jsarts of the west, following this event, was tremendous. An address was now sent forth to " all the saints in the world," announcing, with lamentations, the death of " the Lord's Prophet." Brigham Young, a native of Whittingham, Vt., succeeded to the presi- dency, thus defeating Rigdon, who claimed the office, but who was forthwith cut off, and delivered over to the 'buffetings of Satan.' The next great step was the abandonment of Nauvoo, on account of the bitter hostility of the Illinoisians to the existence of Mormonism in their midst. Nauvoo was a city regularly laid out with broad streets crossing at right angles, and the houses were built generally of logs, with a few frame and brick buildings interspersed. A temple, one hundred and thirty feet long by ninety wide, was MORMON TEMPLE. erected of polished limestone ; the bap- tistry was in the basement, and held a large stone basin supported by twelve colossal oxen. In 1848, this building was set on fire by an incendiary, and all con- sumed except the walls, which were finally destroyed by a tornado, in 1850. The valley of the Great Salt Lake, in Utah, now became the new " promised land " of the exiled Mormons, and, cross- ing the frozen Mississippi in the winter of 184G, the exodus began ; in the summer ensuing, they commenced to lay the foundations of the city, — the '• New Jeru- salem." Soon after, the whole of this vast region was surveyed by Messrs. Stansbury and Gunnison, by order of the federal government, and a bill organizing Utah into a Territory having been signed bj- President Pillmoro, Brigham Young was appointed governor, and thus became the supreme head of the church and state. He has ruled with consummate tact and success, overcoming all opposition from " Gentile " sources, and even keeping at bay the national government itself. Ho declared, " I am, and will he, goveimor, and 110 power on earth can hinder it, until the Lord Almiglittj says, ' Bricjham, you need not he governor any longer.' " Under his teachings and practice, polygamy be- came firmly established and universal, the prohibitory laws of the United States in this matter being openly defied. His conduct he defended in powerful harangues to the faithful, who were alwaj's ready, at the word of command, to fight or murder, in behalf of their political aid spiritual chief, if occasion required. Their sec- tarian literature has been very voluminous, and has appeared in almost every language ; for even in the old world — throughout Europe, as also in Asia, Africa, Australia, and Polynesia, — scores of thousands of the simple-minded have become dupes of the itinerant imjjostors sent forth from head- quarters to convert the " gentile " world. Of Young, personallj', the description usually given is that of a man nithcr above the medium height and somewhat corpulent, with a face indicative of pene- tration and firmness ; hair parted on the side, and reaching below the ears with a half curl ; the forehead somewhat narrow, thin eyebrows, the eyes between gray and blue, with a calm, composed, and some- what reserved expression ; nose, fine and sharp-pointed, and bent a little to the left ; lips close, the lower one evincing the sensual voluptuary ; cheeks rather fleshy, RISE AND PROGEESS OF THE MORMONS. 22J SALr LAKE nlA'. lllE M')i;-M'ison, to be hung for murder ! " Though he gave no evidence of contri- tion for tlie horrible and multiplied crimes of which he confessed himself guilty, yet he evidently dwelt upon their recollection with great unwillingness. If a question was asked him, in regard to how the crews were generally destroyed, he answered quickly and briefly, and instantly changed the topic either to the circumstances attending his trial, or to his exploits in Buenos Ayres. On being asked why with such cruelty he killed so many persons, after getting all their money, which was all he wanted, he replied that the laws themselves were responsible for so many 'murders; that, by those laws, a man has to suffer death for piracy, and the punish- ment for murder is no more, — besides, all witnesses are out of the way, and, conse- quently, if the punishment was different, there would not be so many murdei-s. On Friday, April twenty-second, 1831, Gibbs and AYansley paid the penalty of their crimes. Both prisoners arrived at the gallows about twelve o'clock, accom- panied by the marshal, his aids, and a body of United States marines. Two clergymen attended them to the fatal spot, where, everything being in readiness, the ropes were adjusted about their necks, and prayers offered. Gibbs addressed the spectators, acknowledging the heinousness of his career, and adding — " Should any of the friends of those whom I have been accessory to, or engaged in, the murder of, be now present, before my Maker I beg their forgivenes.s — it is the only boon I ask — and, as I hope for pardon through the blood of Christ, surely this request will not be withheld by man, from a worm, like myself, standing, as I do, on the very verge of eternity' ! An- other moment, and I cease to exist — and could I find in nij^ bosom room to imagine that the spectators now assembled had forgiven me, the scaffold would have no terrors. My first crime was piracy, for which my life would pay the forfeit on conviction ; no punishment could be inflicted on me farther than that, and therefore I had nothing to fear but detec- tion, for had my offenses been millions of times more aggravated than they now are, death must have satisfied all." Gibbs shook hands with Wanslej', the officers and clergymen, the caps were then drawn over the faces of the two criminals, and a handkerchief dropped bj' Gibbs as a signal to the executioner caused the coid to be severed, and in an instant they were suspended in air. Wansley expired with only a few slight struggles. Gibbs died hard. XXVIII. SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED STATES.— 1833. The Most Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The Whole Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Velocity, Size, and Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Tlieir Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. Unequaled in Every Respect— Cloudless Serenity of the Sky.— The Iteople Wonder-Struck.— Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant. — Conflagration of the World Feared.— Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star-Shower at Boston.— Myriads of Blood-Red Fire-Balls. — The Display at Niagara Falls. — Blazing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the Meteors Explode.— Trains of Light in their Track.— Radiant Prismatic Hues.— Substance Compos- ing these Bodias. — Dissipated by Bursting. — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four Miles a Second. — Novel Shapes and Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the Earth. — Half a Continent in Presumed Jeopardy. " the lant^uiDe flood KoUed h broad slaaehter o'er the ploins of heaven. And nature's eelf did aeem to totter on the brink of tima [TENSIVE and magnificent showers of shooting stars have been known ' occur at various places in modern times ; but the most universal and wonderful which has ever been recorded is that of the thirteenth of November, 1833, the whole firmament, over all the Utiited States, being then, for hours, in fiery commotion ! No celestial phenomenon has ever occurred in this country, since its first settlement, which was viewed with such in- tense admiration by one class in the community, or with so much dread and alarm bj' another. Ic was the all-engrossing theme of conversation and of scientiiic disquisition, for weeks and months. In- deed, it could not be otherwise, than that such a rare phenomenon, — next in grandeur and sublimity to that of a total solar eclipse, or a great comet stretched athwart the starry heavens, in full view of a wonder-struck universe, — should awaken the deepest interest among all beholding it. Nor is the memory of this marvelous scene yet extinct ; its sublimity and awful beauty still linger in many minds, who also remember well the terror with which the demonstration was regarded, and the mortal fear excited among the ignorant that the end of the world had come. During the three hours of its con- vs#Ssft<» METEORIC SHOWER AT BOSTON. SUBLIME METEOKIC SHOWER. 229 tinuance, the day of judgment was be- lieved to be onl}' waiting for sunrise, and, long after the shower had ceased, the morbid and superstitious still were im- pressed with the idea that the final day was at least only a week ahead. Impromptu meetings for prayer were held in many places, and many other scenes of religious devotion, or terror, or abandonment of worldly affairs, transpired, under the in- fluence of fear occasioned by so sudden and awful a display. But, though in many districts the mass of the population were thus panic-stricken, through fear, as well as want of familiarity with the history of such appearances, the more enlightened were profoundly awed at contemplating so vivid a picture of the apocalyptic image — that of ' the stars of heaven falling to the earth, even as a fig tree casting her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind.' In describing the effect of this phenomenon upon the black population, a southern planter says : ' I was suddenly awakened by the most distressing cries that ever fell on my ears. Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy, could be heard from most of the negroes of three plantations, amounting in all to some six or eight hundred. While earnestly and breathlessly listening for the cause, I heard a faint voice near the door calling my name. I arose, and, taking my sword, stood at the door. At this moment I heard the same voice still beseeching me to rise, and saying, " 0, my God, the world is on fire!" I then opened the door, and it is difficult to say which excited me most — the awfulness of the scene, or the dis- tressed cries of the negroes. Upwards of one hundred lay prostrate on the ground, some speechless, and others uttering the bitterest moans, but with their hands raised, imploring God to save the world and them. The scene was truly awful, for never did rain fall much thicker than the meteors fell towards the earth ; east, west, north, and south, it was the same.' In a word, the tvhole heavens seemed in motion. The display, as described in Professor Silliman's Journal, was seen all over North America. The chief scene of the exhibi- tion was within the limits of the longitude of sixty-one degrees in the Atlantic ocean, and that of one hundred degrees in Cen- tral Me.xico, and from the North Ameri- can lakes to the southern side of the island of Jamaica. Over this vast area, an appearance pre- sented itself far surpassing, in grandeur and magnificence, the loftiest reach of the human imagination. From two o'clock until broad daylight, the sky being per- fectly serene and cloudless, an incessant play of dazzlingly brilliant luminosities was kept up in the whole heavens. Some of these were of great magnitude and most peculiar form. One, of large size, remained for some time almost stationary in the ze- nith, over the Falls of Niagara, emitting streams of light which radiated in all direc- tions. The wild dash of the waters, as con- trasted with the fiery commotion above them, formed a scene of unequaled and amazing sublimity. Arago computes that not less than two hundred and forty thou- sand meteors were at the same time visible above the horizon of Boston ! To form some idea of such a spectacle, one must imagine a constant succession of fire-balls, resem- bling sky-rockets radiating in all direc- tions, from a point in the heavens near the zenith, and following the arch of the sky towards the horizon. They proceeded to various distances from the radiating point, leaving after them a vivid streak of light, and usually exploding before they disap- peared. The balls were of various sizes and degrees of splendor ; some were mere points, but others were larger and brighter than Jupiter or Venus ; and one, in par- ticular, appeared to be nearly of the moon's size. But at Niagara, no spectacle so ter- ribly grand and sublime was ever before beheld by man as that of the firmament descending in fiery torrents over the dark and roaring cataract ! Everywhere within the range of the exhibition, the first appearance was that of fire-works of the most imposing grandeur, covering the entire vault of heaven with myriads of fire-balls resembling sky-rock- 230 SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. ets. On more attentive inspection, it was seen that tlie meteors exhibited tliree dis- tinct varieties, as follows, described bj' Dr. Olmsted : — First, those consisting of phosphoric lines, apparently described by a point. This variety was the most numerous, every-where filling the atmosphere, and resembling a sliower of fier}' snow driven with inconceivable velocity to the north of west, and transfixing the beholder with wondering awe. Second, those consisting of large fire- balls, which at intervals darted along the sky, leaving luminous trains which occa- sionally remained in view for a number of minutes, and, in some cases, for lialf an hour or more. This kind appeared more like falling stars, giving to many persons the \evy natural impression that the stars were actually falling from the sky; and it was principally this spectacle which caused such amazement and terror among the unenlightened classes. Third, those undefined luminous bodies which remained nearly stationary in the heavens for a considerable period of time; these were of various size and form. One of the most remarkable circum- stances attending this display was, that the meteors all seemed to emanate from sky, ran along the vault with immense velocity, describing in some instances an arc of thirty or forty degrees in less than four seconds. The trains which they left were commonly white, but were sometimes tinged with various prismatic colors. One ball — seen at New Haven, and sup- posed to have been identical with one described b^' various observers — that shot otf in the north-west direction, and ex- ploded a little northward of the star Capella, left, just behind tlie place of explosion, a j)hosphorescent train of jiecu- liar beauty. The line of direction was at first nearly straight ; but it soon began to contract in length, to dilate in breadth, and to assume the figure of a serpent draw- ing himself up, until it appeared like a small luminous cloud of vapor. This cloud was borne eastward, — the wind blowing gently in that direction, — oppo- site to the course in which the meteor had proceeded, remaining in sight several minutes. Of the third variety of meteors, the fol- lowing are remarkable examples. At Poland, Ohio, a luminous body was dis- tinctly visible in the north-east for more than an hour; it was verj' brilliant, in the form of a pruning-hook, and apparently twenty feet long and eighteen inches MKIEOKK,' .suuWhK AS SiiEN A r MAGAKA i'ALL> one and the same point; that is, if their lines of direction had been continued back- ward, they would have met in the same point, south-east a little from the zenith. They set out at different distances from this point, and, following the arch of the broad ; it gradually settled towards the horizon, until it disappeared. At Niagara Falls, a large, luminous body, shaped like a square table, was seen nearly in the zenith, remaining for some time almost stationary, and emitting large streams of SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 231 light. At Charleston, S. C, a meteor of extraordinary size was seen to course the hearens for a great length of time, and then was heard to explode with the noise of a cannon. The point from which the meteors seemed to issue, was observed, by those who fixed the position of the display' among the stars, to be in the constellation Leo. At New Haven, it appeared in the bend of the ' sickle ' — a collection of stars in the breast of Leo, — a little to the west- ward of the star Gamma Leonis. By observers at other places remote from each other, it was seen in the same constella- tion, although in different parts of it. An interesting and important fact, in this connection, is, that this radiating point was stationar;/ among the fixed stars — that is, that it did not move along with the earth, in its diurnal revolution eastward, but accompanied the stars in their appar- ent progress westward. According to the testimony of by far the greater number of observers, the meteors were, in general, unaccompanied by any very peculiar sound ; but, on the other hand, such a sound, proceeding, as was supposed, from the meteors, was said to be distinctly heard by a few observers in various places. These sounds are repre- sented either as a hissing noise, like the rushing of a sky-rocket, or as explosions, like the bursting of the same bodies ; and these instances were too numerous to permit the supposition that they were '"naginar}-. A remarkable change of weather, from warm to cold, accompanied the meteoric shower, or immediately followed it. In all parts of the United States, this change was remarkable for its suddenness and intensitv. In many places, the day pre- ceding had been unusually warm for the season, but, before morning, a severe frost ensued, unparalleled for the time of year. Indeed, the seasons and atmospheric changes exhibited remarkable anomalies long after that period. Thus, in parts of Michigan, so unconunonly mild was the season throughout the latter part of November, and the whole of December, that the Indians made maple sugar during this month, and the contiguous lakes remained unfrozen as late as January third. At the same period, the season in the south-western states, as far as New Orleans, was uncommonly cold. In most portions of New England, an unusually mild winter was succeeded by a remarka- bly cold and backward spring, requiring domestic fires to be kept throughout the month of Maj', and frequently in the month of June. A succession of gales commenced about the time of the meteoric shower, first in the Atlantic ocean, and afterwards in various parts of the United States, almost unequaled in this country for their frequency and violence. The meteors were constituted of very light, combustible materials. Their com- bustibility was rendered evident by their exhibiting the actual phenomena of com- bustion, being consumed, or converted into smoke, with intense light and heat; and the extreme tenuity of the substance composing them is inferred fi-om the fact tliat they were stopped bj' the air. Had their quantity of matter been considerable, with so prodigious a velocity, they would liave had a sufficient momentum to enable them to reach the oarth, and the most dis- astrous conseque'.ices might have ensued. Upon submitting this subject to accurate calculation, upon established principles, Dr. Olmsted ascertained that the quantity of heat extricated from the air by the fall- ing meteors, exceeded that of the hottest furnaces, and could be compared onlj' to those immeasurable degrees of heat pro- duced in the laboratorj' of the chemist, before which the most refractory sub- stances are melted, and even dissipated in vapor. Some of the larger meteors must have been bodies of very great size. Dr. Smith, of North Carolina, and other persons in various places, saw a meteor which ap- peared as large as the full moon. If this body were at the distance of one hundred and ten miles from the observer, it must have had a diameter of one mile ; if at a 232 SUBLIME METEOEIC SHOWER. distance of eleven miles, its diameter was five hundred and twenty-eight feet ; and if only one mile off, it must have been forty-eight feet in diameter. These con- siderations leave no doubt that many of the meteors were of great size, though it may be difficult to say precisely how large. The fact that they were stopped by the resistance of the air, proves that their substance was light; still, the quantity of smoke, or residuum, which resulted from their destruction, indicates that there was quite a body of matter. The momentum of even light bodies of such size, and in such numbers, traversing the atmosphere with such astonishing velocity, must have produced extensive derangements in the atmospheric equilib- rium, as the consideration of certain points will show. These large bodies were stopped in the atmosphere, only by transferring their motion to columns of air, large volumes of which would be suddenly and violently displaced. Cold air of the upper regions would be brought down to the earth ; the portions of air incumbent over districts of country remote from each other, being mutually displaced, would exchange places, the air of the warm latitudes being trans- ferred to colder, and that of cold latitudes to warmer regions ; remarkable changes of season would be the consequence, and numerous and violent gales would prevail for a long time, until the atmosphere should have regained its equilibrium. That the state of the weather, and the condition of the seasons that followed the meteoric shower, corresponded to these consequences of the disturbance of the atmospheric equi- librium, is a remarkable fact, and favors the opinion early suggested, that such disturbance is a natural effect of the mete- oric shower, and it is a consequence from which the most formidable dangers attend- ing phenomena of this kind are to be apprehended. With regard to the nature of the mete- ors, Dr. Olmsted, after establishing the fact that they were combustible, light, and transparent bodies, infers that the cloud which produced the fiery shower, consisted of nebulous matter, analogous to that which composes the tails of comets. It cannot be said, indeed, precisely what is the constitution of the material of which the latter are composed ; but it is known that it is very light, since it meets no appreciable force of attraction on the plan- ets, moving even among the satellites of Jujiiter without disturbing their motions, although its own motions, in such cases, are greatly disturbed, thus proving its materiality ; and, that it is exceedingly transparent, is evinced by the fact that the smallest stars are visible through it. Hence, so far as there can be gathered any knowledge of the material of the neb- ulous matter of comets, and of the matter composing these November meteors, they appear to be analogous to each other. Various hypotheses have been proposed to account for this wonderful phenomenon. The agent most readily suggesting itself in this and in most other unexplained natural appearances — electricity — has no known properties adequate to account for the production of the meteors, for the motions which they exhibited, or for the trains which, in many instances, they left behind them. And, if this agent be sup- posed to have some connection with the light and heat which they exhibited, it ia to be borne in mind, that the compression of the air which must result from the rapid progress of large bodies through it, is a sufficient cause of this. Magnetism has also been assigned as the principal agent concerned in producing the meteoric shower. The aurora borealis, and the remarkable auroral arches which occasionally appear in the sk}', have been found to have peculiar relations to the magnetism of the earth, arranging them- selves in obedience to the laws of magnetic attraction. Something of this kind was supposed b}' some to appear during the meteoric phenomenon, especially in the position of the apparent center or radiant- point, which was, as noticed by many observers, very nearly in the place towards which the dipping-needle is directed. SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 233 REMARKAliLE MKTEORIC DISPLAY ON THE MISSISSIPPI From other observations, however, it appears that the radiant-point was not stationary with respect to the meridian, hut accompanied the stars in their westerly progress ; the apparent coincidence with the pole of the dipping-needle being, according to this, purely accidental. According to the view that has been taken, by some, of the origin of meteoric stones, namely, that of ascribing them to terrestrial comets, the hypothesis has been suggested, that the meteors in question might have a similar origin. But the body which afforded the meteoric shower, could not have been of the nature of a satellite to the earth, because it remained so long stationary with respect to th« earth — at least two hours, --a period suffi- cient to have carried it nearly rouiu tb* earth in a circular orbit. Nor can it be supposed that the earth in its annual progress, came into the vicin- ity of a nebula, which was either station- ary, or wandering lawless through space. Such a collection of matter could not remain stationary within the solar system, in .an insulated state ; and had it been in motion in any other direction than that in which the earth was moving, it would soon have been separated from the earth, since, during the eight hours while the meteoric shower lasted, — and perhaps, in all hi 234 SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. wide range, it lasted much longer, — the earth moved in its orbit through the space of nearly five hundred and fifty thousand ir.iles. In connection with the account of this meteoric shower, mention may he made of a remarkable light, seen in the east at the time of that great display, and subse- quently in the west after twilight at differ- ent times, until the month of May, which light assumed different aspects, corre- sponding, apparently, to those which the body revolving around the sun, in the manner contemplated by theorj', would occupy. Hence it was conjectured, that this luminous ajipearance proceeded from the body itself, which afforded the mete- oric shower. It has also been suggested, that this light may result from the same cause as the zodiacal light, and that the latter interesting phenomenon perhaps re- sults from a nebulous body revolving around the sun, interior to the orbit of the earth. It is a point worthy of contemplation, namely, the direful effects which such a "fiery shower" might, in the absence of that law of harmony which governs the universe, have unquestionably produced. Had the meteors been constituted of mate- rials a little more dense, their momentum would have enabled them to reach the earth ; and had they held on their course three seconds longer, it is impossible to conceive of the calamities which would have ensued bj' the descent to the earth of bodies of such magnitude, glowing with the most intense heat. Hnlf the continent vntst have been involved in one common (iKsf ruction ! One of the most interesting facts per- taining to this grand celestial phenomenon, is its periodical character. Between the years 903 and 1833, of tlie modern era, thirteen of these great showers are re- corded, separated from each other by inter- vals of thirty-three and sixty-six j-ears. It is not a little remarkable, too, that the epoch of these periodic displays coincides with the annual November showers so familiar in their occurrence to all, and that their point of divergence in the heav- ens is the same. Indeed, the ])lienouionou of the long interval or period differs from that of the annual period only in its numerical character. The last of these magnificent stellar showers — second, perhaps, in grandeur of demonstration to that of November, 1833, which latter stands solitary in its unsur- passed extent and splendor, — occurred November fourteenth, 1867, beginning at about three o'clock in the morning. At half-past three, a meteor of a greenish blue color, and about the size of a star of the first magnitude, shot out from the direc- tion of the constellation Leo, lighting up the sky with a long train of crimson fire, and traveling in a north-westerly direction. It had scarcely faded from the sight, when another and equally brilliant, though not quite so large, came speeding along in its track, and it was followed by fourteen of smaller magnitude, one by one, in quick succession. At this moment a heavy cloud drifted towards the north, and for some minutes the spectacle was partially lost to view. That the meteors were fall- ing rapidlj", however, was plainly evident; for, from all points where the mass of clouds was thin, occasional meteors flashed out, and the frequent lighting up of the clouds, as they passed over, left no doubt that the mysterious ishenomenon was having full Jjlay in the regions be_yond. At ten minutes before four o'clock, the northern sky again became clear; a thick and almost impenetrable cloud passed over the moon, partially obscuring its light, and thus enabling the observers to view with greater distinctness the size and bril- lianc}' of the meteors. The display was now a most magnifi- cent one indeed. The meteors shot out from Leo in all directions, and with remarkable swiftness traveled across the horizon. Sixty-three were counted in one minute and ten seconds, of which three were of extraordinary size and beauty. One of these, of a greenish hue, and fol- lowed by a long train of the same color, traveled in the direction of Ursa Major, SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 235 and as it was disappearing in the southern horizon, apparently burst, lighting up the sky for a great distance on all sides. It soon became utterly' impossible to keep any correct account of the number falling. Eight, ten and twelve sped onwards, on their erratic course, at the same moment, scarcely disajipearing before others of equal splendor took their places. For fully twenty minutes they continued to fall with the same rapidity, during which time, there were counted, exclusive of those already' mentioned, tliree liundred and thirteen. This number, however, was not one-fifth of that which really fell, ap observed in New York city. Not less than fifteen hundred or two thousand were estimated by observers at that city, to have radiated from Leo, during this space of time, some of which were splendid in color and movement. One of the meteors constituting this display is described as of surpassing beauty, size and brilliancy. It radiated from Leo, and took a direct northerly course toward Ursa Major, followed by a long train of a yellowish red hue, which spanned the horizon from its point of appearance to that of its disappearance. This meteor was of the same greenish blue color as the others which preceded it. and as it passed over about one-half of the course traversed, it seemed to burst, and then the spectacle was one of extreme beauty. Apparently, hundreds of frag- ments of an almost blood-red color broke from it and scattered in every direction, while it continued its course towards the north, no longer wearing its greenish-blue color, but of one uniform and beautiful blue. The panorama it presented was exceedingly grand, and lasted about three minutes, before the varied colors disap- peared and the fire-lit skies resumed their wonted serenity. After the appearance of this, the display graduall}' died away. Although it is doubtful, from the want of the requisite data, whether the source of the meteors, or the height of the mete- oric cloud, has been accurately ascertained, yet the truth in regard to the latter may be approximated. According to the estab- lished laws of falling bodies, the velocity the meteors would acquire in falling from a point two thousand two hundred and thirt^'-eight miles above the earth to within fifty miles of its surface — this being con- sidered as nearly the height of the atmos- phere — is about four miles per second, which is more than ten times the maxi- mum velocity of a cannon-ball, and about nineteen times that of sound ' XXIX. ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON, AT THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL IN WASHING- TON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— 1835. Failure of the Pistols to Discharge — The President Rushes Furiously Upon His Assailant, and is Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed, at First, to Have Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, Without Accomplices. — His History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse at the Capitol. — President Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters During the Sermon — Moves to the Eastern Portico. — President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury. — Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. — Approach to Lawrence's Position. — He Levels a Pistol at Jackson. — Explosion of the Percussion Cap. — A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-Like Energy of the Old Hero. — Is with Difficulty Kept Back. — Lawrence Stunned and Secured. — His Perfect Calmness Through All. — The Crowd Wish to Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His Motives. — Insane Idea Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined in a Madhouse. " Iv«t me go. Bentlcmen 1 I am not afraid— they can't kill m€ upon TUB ASSAbBIN. -I can protect rayeelf I ' — JACKSON'3 Exclamation whbk Rushiko 11 IKE wildfire on the flowing prairie, did the announcement of the attempted assassination of President Andrew Jackson, on the thirtieth of January, 1835, spread over the country', to its furthermost limits. Consternation filled the public mind, at the thought that the tragical mode of dealing with the crowned heads of kingdoms and empires, had at last been tried — though fortunately with abortive result — upon the person of the popu- larly' elected ruler of a free republic ! On the afternoon of the day above-named, while President Jackson was in the capitol, in attendance on the funeral of the Hon. Warren E. Davis, of South Carolina, Richard Lawrence, a painter, residing in Washington, attempted to shoot him. This individual was seen to enter the hall of the house of representatives during the delivery of the funeral sermon ; before its close, however, he had taken his stand on the eastern portico, near one oi the columns. The president, with the secretary of the treasury on his left arm, on retiring from the rotunda to reach his carriage at the steps of the portico, advanced towards the spot where Lawrence stood, — who had his pistol concealed under his coat, — and when he approached within two yards and THE rRKSEKVATJOy, in Washington, ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. 237 a lialf of him, the assassin extended his arm and leveled the pistol at the presi- dent's breast. The percussion cap ex- T)loded with a noise so great, that several witnesses supposed the pistol had fired. On the instant, the assassin dropped the pistol from his right hand, and taking another ready cocked from his left, pre- sented and snapped it at the president, who at the moment raised his cane and made for the assailant with lion-like energy, and would have executed summary vengeance ; but Secretary Woodbury and Lieutenant Gedney at the same instant laid hold of the man, who gave way through the crowd and was at last knocked down, the president pressing after him until he saw he was secured. The presi- dent's friends then urged him to go to the capitol, which the brave-hearted man did, with great firmness and self-possession, though during the eventful moment the president's commanding voice was heard above all others, as, tearing himself from liis friends and rushing upon the assassin, he said, "Let me go, gentlemen, — I am not afraid — thetj can't kill me — I can j>rotect myself ! " As soon as the act was known to the crowd, they wished to kill the assas- sin on the spot. Lawrence was forthwith carried to jail, after a brief preliminary examination before Judge Cranch. At this examina- tion, Mr. Randolph, sergeant of the house of representatives, who attended the mar- shal to conduct the prisoner to the city hall, gave in testimony that the prisoner, when asked by the marshal what motive he had to make his horrid attempt, stated that the president had killed his fathei'. His father was an Englishman who died many j'ears ago in Washington. The son himself was apprenticed afterwards to a Mr. Clark, with whom he lived three years. Mr. Clark, when called upon, said that he was a young man of excellent habits, sober and industrious; that he had seen him very frequently, and was well acquainted with him since he had left his family, and had heard nothing to his disadvantage, until, of late, he was informed of his being quarrelsome am^ng his friends, and had treated one of his sisters badly. The total absence of any personal motive on the part of the prisoner to commit the deed he attempted, suggested the idea that he must be insane. But his demeanor when committing the act, and on being seized, as well as when examined, bore not the slightest ajipearance of frenzy, or derangement of any sort. When asked by the couut if he wished to cross-examine the witnesses, or to make explanation, he answered in the negative — said that those who had seen the act could state the facts — and at the conclusion, when asked if he had anything to offer, said that he could not contradict what had been given in evidence. In the midst of the excitement and anxiety which prevailed around him, Lawrence appeared perfectly calm and collected ; and the president, in speaking of the event, remarked that Lawrence's manner, from the moment his eye caught his, was firm and resolved, until the failure of his last pistol, when he seemed to shrink, rather than resist. Lawrence was a handsome j'oung man of about thirty-five years, small in stature, pale complexion, black hair, dark eyes, genteel deportment, and well-dressed. The keeper of the rotunda stated that he had frequently observed the man about the capitol, so frequently that he had endeav- ored to draw him into conversation, but found him taciturn and unwilling to talk. On the day in question, he kept prowling about, but did not come within the railing near the members' seats; his hand was held inside his vest, as if grasping some- thing, and his lips were pale and quiver- ing. On his pistols being taken from him, after the affair, they were found to be a very elegant pair, in most excellent order, and loaded with powder and ball almost to the muzzle, the barrels being about six inches long. On examining the load in one of the pistols, a ball was drawn out by means of a screw, about sixty of which balls would have made a pound ; it was well packed, and forced down tight on a full charge of excellent glazed powder. It 2o8 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. was a most astonisliing circumstaDce, loaded as tliey were and with percussion caps, that the pistols misseil fire. In view of this latter fact, Mr. Key, the district attorney, and General Hunter, the marshal of the district, lost no time in testing the actual condition of the weapons, the pistol still loaded being first tried, by putting on another cap. The tube of this pistol showed the powder at its summit. Gen- eral Hunter, by inclining the pistol, threw out a few grains of the powder in his hand. They took from a box of caps found each of the pistols, ."-everal times, without ta'ving any other means of forcing the powder into the tubes than that of ram- ming home small paper wads on the charges. Tlie discharge of the weapons took effect on every trial. So great was the excitement produced by the affair, that some of the most eminent political opponents of the president, including such men as Claj', Calhoun, Poindexter, White, and others, were, in the frenzy of the moment, suspected of having conspired in a plot to get rid of the jiresident! In ATTEMI'TEU ASSASSINATION in Lawrence's shop without selecting it, one, which was placed upon the tube. On Major Donelson firing it, the ball passed through an inch plank, at a distance of about five or six yards, and lodged, nearly buried, in the opposite side of the enclos- ure, six or seven yards distant. They then loaded with a small quantity of the powder found in the prisoner's possession. OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. It was ascertained that, some time pre- viou;;, Lawrence had formed an attachment to a j'oung lady, and frequently told his sister that he would bj' his industry soon be enabled to buy a corner lot near her, and build on it a good house, when he would marry the object of his attachment ; and, with this view, he labored diligentlj', day and night, until he had by him about ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 239 eight hundred dollars. He was disap- pointed — became extremely pensive— quit all employment — and would stand for hours in a little parlor, gazing upon tlie spot which he had selected as his future residence. Up to this time, he was quiet, kind and affectionate. His brother-in-law, with whom he lived, endeavored to persuade Lawrence to resume his work — he said that he would go to England, that he had something of great importance which demanded his presence, and in the fall of 1833 went to New York for the purpose of taking pas- sage from that port. During the winter he returned, saying that he found the papers filled with notices of his contem- plated enterprise, and that he could get no captain to take him on board. In the spring of 1834, he again went as far as Philadelphia, put up at the Mansion House, kept his room, or else would stand for hours on the porch, engaged in deep thought, without speaking to any one. After a few days he returned to Washing- ton, and said that he found his purpose of going to England was known, that none of the captains would consent to take him on hoard, but that he would soon have a vessel of his own — that he had engaged men who would put all things right. About this time he became very quarrelsome, and liis relatives were afraid to keep him in the house. His brother-in-law endeavored again to induce him to go to work, which he obstinately refused to do, saj-ing that his hands would do no more work — that others might work, but, as for him, he would soon have money enough. At length, he committed an assault upon his sister, for which he was handed over to the officers of justice, and lodged in jail. The case was carried before the grand jurj', only a short time previous to the assault on the president, and, after an examina- tion of witnesses who knew him, the grand jury refused to find a bill against him, on the ground of his insanity. In a conversation between Lawrence and some visitors, held soon after the rash act, the following curious statements were made by the prisoner, in reply to the questions put to him : " What object had you in view in shoot- ing the president ? " "About ten days before making the attempt, I called on the president at his house, and stated to him that I was in want of money, and wished him to give a check for it. The president made no par- ticular objection to this demand, but stated that Mr. Dibble wished to see him, and that I must call again." "Do you suppose the president knew of your intention to kill him ? " '• He must have known what my inten- tion was, if he did not comply with my wishes." " Why did you call upon the president witli such a demand ? " " Because he knew, as I supposed every person did, the true situation of things. The president is my clerk, and I have control over his money and his bank, and the sword ; and if he refused to comply, he knew the consequences." " By what means did you expect to enforce compliance with j-our wishes, and how much money did you expect to get ? " "The president knew I had the right to the money, and, if he refused, that I had the right to kill him. One or two thou- sand dollars would have satisfied me, but I would have accepted three or four hun- dred." " How came the president to know that you had the right ? " "Because there was an understanding, and it would have been taking th« law in his own hands to refuse." " Did you expect any aid in your under- taking to kill the president?" "No, I needed none. I have the right to the crown of England. It has always been in my ancestors. They were deprived of it by force. My father was then re- duced to labor, and had to drive a coal cart in England. He was fond of hunting, riding, and shooting, and was frequently called on by noblemen and persons of dis- tinction, notwithstanding his reduced cir- cumstances." 240 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. "How came General Jackson to get the power over your rights and money '! " " The first cause was what took place at Orleans. He leagued in with Lord Wellington, and the consequence was, that out of twenty-five thousand English sol- diers sent over, only a small remnant was left ; with the aid of cotton-bags fixed by Jackson, they were wasted away. A number of officers were drafted for this campaign, among them Pakenham and Gibbs, and they were killed. This is the unjust treatment my father received on that occasion, and it is my business to put things right — I have the power — Jackson is my clerk — he knew what would be the consequence of refusing to obey." " If you were now set at liberty, would you endeavor to go on with your determin- ation ? " " After a while, I should call on the president for the monej', and if he refused, I would pursue the same plan I did before." On the d.ay appointed for the trial of Lawrence, he appeared in court dressed in a gray coat, black cr.avat and vest, and brown pantaloons. His conduct was that of a man perfectly at his ease, and collected, though his eyes showed indications of mania, and there was an evident assump- tion of kingly dignity in his demeanor and the expression of his countenance. He took his seat, however, very quietly by the side of his counsel, and conversed smilingly with them. That his appear- ance was decidedly handsome and prepos- sessing, was the opinion universally ex- pressed. The witnesses having been called into court, Mr. Key, the prosecuting attornej', commenced some observations to the bench, when — up jumped Lawrence from his chair, under evident excitement of mind, and said he wished to know whether it was correct to bring him or not ? He claimed the crown of Great Britain, he said, and also that of the United States ; and he wished to know if they could bring him there ? The judge desired him to take his seat, and to allow his counsel to manage his case for him. Lawrence com- plied, but still continued the subject, in conversation with his counsel. The latter now inquired of the court, whether, as this was simply the case of a misdemeanor, the presence of the prisoner, considering his state of mind, might not be dispensed with. Lawrence again rose, and addressed the court, saying, " I wish to know, if, having, as I have, the sword ." He was again stopped. His counsel once more, but still without success, appealed to the bench RICHARD LAWRENCE. to allow the prisoner to be removed, saying that he had done all he could to quiet the man's feelings, but had not been able to present any course of which he would make choice. The judge replied, that it was always customary for the pris- oner to be in court, in cases like this; he wished the trial to proceed in the ordinary way. On proceeding to call the panel, the following passage ensued : " I observe," said Lawrence, " that a jury has been called. I wish to know if this is correct. I certainly am king ! " " You must sit down," commanded the judge, "and be quiet, Mr. Lawrence, until called on to answer." Lawrence sat down ; but not until he had reiterated the assertion that he was king of Great Britain, and likewise of America, and that he was protected by the law in his claim. On the examination of witnesses, Sec- retary Woodbury testified as follows : On the occasion of the funeral ceremony which took place in the hall of the house of rep- resentatives, in consequence of the death of one of its members, I attended, together ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 241 with the president and other officers of the government ; had listened to the funeral service in the hall; left it; the president being on my right arm, had passed through the rotunda, and through the eastern door, ■where we came rather to a halt — being in the rear, — in consequence of the delay occasioned by the gentlemen who had pre- ceded us getting into the coaches. We had perhaps passed some two or three steps on to the portico, when I heard a noise like the discharge of a pistol; "looked round directly, and there saw a person, about six or eight feet, a little obliquelj' to the left, who was just in the act of lower- ing his hand when my eje caught him. Ifc was the prisoner at the bar. Saw him distinctly when I turned, and saw the pistol in his hand ; presumed he was the person who fired. It was directed right towards the president. At first I doubted whether it was not myself who was aimed at, but saw that it was towards the presi- dent, who was on mj' right ; turned to the president to see if he was injured, and, seeing that he was not, I turned to look for the prisoner. He was then in the act of raising his hand again ; had something in it ; presumed it was a pistol. I gave a pull from the president's arm and sprang towards the prisoner, seized him by the collar, and at that moment the second explosion took place. Other persons had previously got hold of him, which proceed- ing appeared to have rather put him out of his first position ; they continued to pull him, with some violence, in a somewhat opposite direction. Seeing he was secured, and that there was reason to believe he had no other weapon, I let go my hold to learn what was the state of the president. The prisoner was dragged forwards towards the front of the piazza. I saw no more of him until I saw him here an hour after. Found the president in the crowd, and went home with him. Secretary Dickerson stated the circum- stances of the assault, as observed by him, to be as follows : I went with other gentle- men of the cabinet, to the capitol, on the day of the funeral of the Hon. W. E. ^ 16 Diivis. After the service in the hall, the procession moved forward towards the eastern colonnade, there being a great crowd. I was a little to the rear of the president, and at the door of the colonnade there was a halt, which brought me up nearly to his side. I had advanced, I think, .about two steps from the door, when I heard the discharge of a pocket pistol ; have certainly heard such pistols dis- charged without making a louder report — it being in the colonnade might have incrckased the sound. On turning my eye, I saw that some men had laid hold of an individual. I was to the left of the presi- dent, and saw Lieutenant Gedney, who seemed to be trying to get the man down, but I could not see the man. It was some seconds before the prisoner could get at his other pistol, and when he did, from his altered position, he had to throw his arm over to get aim at the president. The latter must have been struck, had a dis- charge taken place. In an instant from this time, the prisoner was crushed to the floor, but was soon raised again. Mr. Gillet, a member of congress from New York state, a very strong man, had hold of him, as also had Lieutenant Gedney. I looked at the prisoner, and kept my eye on him, so as to be certain of his identity. About the instant the second explosion took place, the president had lifted his stick to strike the prisoner, but made no blow, being prevented by his friends. The crowd coming out at the door was very great. The president spoke angrily to those who prevented him from getting at Lawrence, saying, " Let me alone ! Let me alone ! " I recollect hearing him also say, " he knew where this came from ! " After some further evidence on the part of the prosecution, the prisoner's counsel asked permission of the judges that Law- rence might leave the court, saying that it was painful to them all to have him remain — particularly so to himself, as his counsel, — and the law did not require his presence. Lawrence now rose, and ad- dressed the judges wildly, saying — 242 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. " What I have done to Jackson, was on account of money which lie owes me. I went there for that purpose. I consider all in this court as under me. The United States bank has owed me money ever since 1802, and I want my money. I must have my revenue from that hank. You are under me, gentlemen. (Mr. Wood- ward, the deputy-marsh.il, endeavoring to prevail on him to resume his seat, Law- rence turned round, indignantly, and said, 'Mr. Woodward! mind ijour own business, or I shall treat you ivith severity!') It is for me, gentlemen, to pass upon you, and not j'ou upon me." Again did the counsel appeal to the feelings of the court to spare itself, and the jury, this painful exhibition, by per- mitting Lawrence to depart in custody of the marshal. He, the counsel, felt, for his own part, that he could not do justice to the cause of the prisoner, if he sat beside him ; the very fact, that he should take a course in the defense of the prisoner with which he was displeased, would jjrevent it. The court replied, that L.awi'ence should remain until proven to be insane; he would, however, be permitted to withdraw, if it was his own wish so to do. The unfortunate maniac here shouted out — " I deny the power of the court to try me — I am my own man — I will have my revenue ! " Lawrence's counsel here endeavored to soothe him, by telling him he should have his rights. "Ay, but when?" " To- daj-," replied his counsel ; and he sat down, contentedly, on this assurance. It was, of course, not at all difficult for the prisoner's counsel to prove his insanity and consequent irresponsibleness. Mr. Redfern, who married Lawrence's sister, testified on this point, to the following effect : I have known Lawrence for sixteen years, and first observed a change in him in 1833. In the fall of 1832 he left Wash- ington with the intention, he said, of going to England; he went in November, and returned again in December, assigning as a reason, iiiat the weather was cold. In the spring of the next year, he started again to go to New York or Philadelphia, but he certainly got no farther than Phila- delphia ; on his return this time, he said the people would not let him go, that the gov- ernment opposed his going, that I and others had prevented him ; that he should not be able to go until he got a ship and captain of his own, — that, when he got to Philadelphia, he found all the papers so full about him, that ho was obliged to come back. After this, he remained in my house six mouths, but did nothing, saying he had no occasion to labor, that he lived on his people, — it was very well for men such as me to work, but he had no such need, that he had large claims on this government which were now before con- gress. He used to attend congress regu- larly. In Januarj', 1834, he left my house, but, previous to this, had got quar- relsome with his sister, said the colored girl laughed at him and that he would kill her, and that other people also laughed at him. He struck all his sisters on several occasions, and once took up a four-pound weight to throw at vay wife. I have seen him pass since this time, but never have spoken to him since 1833 ; he would go about the house, without speaking, for days together, but would talk and laugh to himself continually in his own chamber. It was the general impression of the neigh- bors, that Lawrence was insane from the beginning of 1833. The question being put to Mr. Redfern, as to whether Lawrence held two estates in Ireland, the answer was in the negar tive. On asking Lawrence the names ol his estates, he replied, very gravely, "Tre- gear and Kinnany ! and the ^re attached to the crown of England ! " - i- Similar in its bearing, was the testi monj' of Mr. Drurj', who had known Law- rence twenty-five years, and who stated the following facts : For the last 3'ear I have observed a change in his conduct ; he would talk to himself continually in his shop, sometimes saying, ' him, he does not know his enemy ; I will put a pistol — erect a gallows.' He conceived himself to be King Richard the Third, of ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 243 England, and likewise king of this coun- trj' ; this was about the latter end of last December, or the beginning of January, after which, I heard him say, ' Gen- eral Jackson ! who's General Jackson ? ' On one occasion a black boy called to col- lect a bill, and Lawrence said he would call and pay it ; but, as soon as the boy had left, he said, ' him! he don't know who he's dunning ! ' He would stand at the door for hours, wrapt in thought, and, even when I passed, he took no notice of me. He was continually talking to himself, and would now and then burst into fits of laughter. I noticed no particular change in him as to dress — he was always fond of dress, — but I did in his conduct and appearance. I have often said he was a crazy man, and have heard others say so ; the boys would call him ' King Richard.' On the morning of his attack on the president, he came to the shop at the usual time, and went to a place where I could see him through a partition ; he was sitting on a chest, with a book in his hand, laughing. I heard soon after the lid of the chest fall, and heard him say, ' I'll be if I don't do it ! ' He then came out, left the shop, and locked the door. Lawrence did some little work within the last twelve months, and had a shop. I had a room adjoining this. Much testimony of the same purport as the preceding was brought forward, and nothing of a conflicting character pre- sented itself. The law, in criminal cases, says that the existence of reason is neces- sary to constitute punishable crime — its deprivation renders the individual dispun- ishable. Acting upon this ground, several physicians were examined as to their opin- ion of Lawrence's condition, judging from the facts drawn out by the evidence, and their personal interviews with the prisoner. Their testimony was unanimous in de- claring Lawrence's state of mind to be that of morbid delusion, — not possessing a judgment of right and wrong, especially as to anything connected with General Jack- son, — and therefore not to be treated as a moral agent. Among the physicians who expressed this as their decided opinion, were Messrs. Coussin and Thomas Sewell, two of^ the most eminent in their profes- sion. In accordance with the evidence thus given, the jury were out only five minutes, returning at once with a verdict of "Not guiltj', he having been under the influence of insanity at the time of committing the act." But, long before the trial and its termination, the intense excitement pro- duced by the act, throughout the countrj', had almost entirely subsided, — the first impression, that the horrid deed had been prompted by secret political conspiracy, under partisan instigation, rapidly dying away, as the true character of the man and his unaided deed became known. Law- rence was sent to a lunatic asylum, where he remained an 'nmate thirty or forty years. XXX. MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 1835. Realizatioa of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation of the Machine. — Net-worit of Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — Tlie Inventor's Experiments, Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and other Honors, Uestowed Upon Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. — Mr. M.'s European Voyage in 1832, — Recent French Experiments then Discussed. — Important Question and Answer. — Two Great Ex- isting Facts. — The Electric Spark Transmissive. — Easy Control of the Current. — Theory Applied to Practice. — Completion of a Crude Model. — Private Exhibition in 1835. — Simplicity of the Instru- ment. — The Invention Made Public in 1837. — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for Pecuniary Aid. — Merciless Ridicule Ensues — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the Capitol. — Perfect in its Operation. — Success of Morse's Appeal. — His Joy at the Decision. — Putting up tha Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Througli. "Thatateert caUert *Lightnini;' (any the Fatea) la owurtl hi the I niti-'' system of telegraphing. A gentle- MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 2ii man on board had been describing some experiments made in Paris with the electro-magnet, and the question arose as to the time occupied by the fluid in pass- ing through the wire, stated to be one hun- dred feet in length. On the reply that it was instantaneous. Professor Morse (recol- lecting the experiments of Franklin,) suggested that it might be carried to any distance instantly, and that the electric spark could be made a means of conveying and recording intelligence. Here was the idea, but a greater triumph was the appli- cation of the theory to practice, which he successfully accomplished, after much study and multitudinous trials, in New York, where, in 1835, he j)ut i/i operation the viodel of his recordinr/ electrio tele- graph. Professor Morse's discovery was based on these two principal facts, namel}^ : that a current of electricity will pass to any dis- tance along a conductor connecting the two poles of a voltaic battery, and produce visible effects at any desired points on that conductor; also, that magnetism is pro- duced in a piece of soft iron, around which the conductor, in its progress, is made to pass, when the electric current is permit- ted to flow, and that the magnetism ceases when the current of electricity is prevented from flowing. Hence, if the end of a soft iron lever be placed beneath the iron to be magnetized, it can be made to rise and fall as the electricity flows, or is inter- rupted. The other end of the lever, having a point in it, maj' be made to press on a strip of paper or not, at the will of the operator. This point may be made to im- press a dot or a line, at pleasure. A dot and a line may represent letters, and by different combinations of dots and lines any letter of the alphabet could be repre- sented. The operator in one city could make the apparatus in another city, at any distance, write what he pleased, by break- ing and closing the circuit at longer or shorter intervals. The invention, as thus devised by Pro- fessor Morse, and as described in a popular way by Antisell, Bakewell and others, is a recording instrument, that embosse* the sj'mbols upon paper, with a point jjressed down upon it by an electro-magnet ; the symbols that form the alphabet con- sisting of combinations of short and long strokes, and made to stand for different letters, by their repetitions and variations. Thus a stroke followed by a dot signifies the first letter of the alphabet ; a stroke preceded by a dot, the second letter ; a single dot, the third letter ; and in this manner the whole alphabet could easily be indicated, the number of repetitions in no case exceeding four for each letter, — the letters and words being distinguished from one another by a longer space being left between them than between each mark that forms only a part of a letter or of a word. Simplicity characterized this instrument in an eminent degree. The transmitter is merely a spring kej', like that of a musical instrument, which, on being pressed down, makes contact with the voltaic battery, and sends an electric current to the receiv- ing station. The operator at the trans- mitting station, by thus making contact, brings into action an electro-magnet at the station he communicates with, and that pulls down a point fixed to the soft-iron lever upon a strip of paper that is kept mov- ing by clock-work slowly under it. The duration of the pressure on the key, whether instantaneous or prolonged for a moment, occasions the difference in the lengths of the lines indented on the paper. A single circuit is sufficient for the pur- pose, as well as very effective. As the working of this telegraph depends iipon bringing into action at the receiving station an electro-magnet of force equal to mechanically indenting paper, and as the resistance to the passage of electricity along the wires diminishes the quantity transmitted so greatly, that at long dis- tances it was supposed to be almost impossible to obtain sufficient power for the purpose, if it acted directly, — to over- come this difficulty, an auxiliary electro- magnet was cmplo_yed. The electro- magnet which is directly in connection J 246 MOKSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. with the telegr.apli wire is .1 small one, surrounded by about five hundred yards or more of very line wire, for the purpose of multiplying as much as possible the effect of the feeble current that is trans- mitted. The soft-iron keeper, which is attracted by the magnet, is also very light, so that it may be the more readily attracted. This highly sensitive instrument serves to make and break contact with a local bat- tery, which brings into action a large electro-magnet, and as the local battery and the magnet are close to the place where the work is to be done, any required force may be easily obtained. The batteries used are Grove's zinc and platinum, and two liquids ; any number of these may be used. To form the electric THE ORIGINAL INSTRUMENT. circuit, one end of a copper wire is attached to the end platina plate, and the other end of the copper wire to the zinc cylinder. A wire is not required to run round all the circuit — any metallic connection, such as brass plates, etc., may form part of it. In the practical working of the telegraph, — the battery with the key attached, and a small table, being supposed, for example, to be at the Philadelphia station, and the telegraph register to be at New York, — a wire runs from the platina plate up to the metallic binding screw connection on the small table, and the other wire runs from the zinc, and is connected by the first wire by the metallic connection of the register at New York. This forms the circuit. The key is fixed upon a pivot axis, to be gently pressed by the operator's fingers on the top of an ivory button. The circuit is now broken, and a small gap in the key above the wire from the battery shows the metallic connection to be open. By pressing upon the butt end of the key, its metal surface comes in contact with the metal termination of the wire from the battery, and then the circuit is closed, and the electric fluid fleets along to the distant station. In connection with the register, there is, as has already been stated, a strip or ribbon of paper passing from the roll between two small metal rollers of the register. This strip is drawn through between the rollers by their motion, they revolving towards the paper roll, drawing in the paper, — motion being given to these rollers by a train of clock-work gear wheels, moved by the weight below the machine. The upper small roll has a small groove run- ning around its periphery, and the ribbon of paper is drawn through against its under surface. The instrument for in- denting the paper is suspended on a pivot axis at its middle, and its action is like a walking-beam, though the stroke made is very short. This pen-lever is very nicely poised, and at its extreme end from the j^aper its stroke is neatly regu- lated by a set or button screw. The metal pen is attached to the lever and fixed on a j)ivot like a walking-beam. When one end is drawn down, the other end flies up, and, having a steel point on it, it marks the strip of paper, already described as running along a roller, and which is drawn along between other two rollers. Then, by letting the other end of this pen come up, the steel point drops, and then it is thrown up again, leaving a space between the two marks on the paper. As, therefore, the paper is always moving and, as the point is held to it for a longer or shorter time, marks are made — as before MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 247 explained — of dots, spaces and dashes, and by a combination of these the whole alphabet is formed, the letters made into words, and the words into sentences. The electro-magnet is fitted with an armature, whose attraction and withdrawal gives motion to the lever. Instead of reading off from the strip of paper, operators in dme trusted to sound. But, though Professor Morse exhibited the model of his recording apparatus in 1835 and 1836, it was not until after some years' additional toil that he brought it to the alx)ve-described efficiency and its sub- sequent improvement and perfection. He made no efforts to bring the matter definitely before the public until the autumn of 1837, when, in its advanced state of completion, he exhibited to an appreciating and wonder-struck auditory, its marvelous operation. The announce- ment of the invention and its astonishing capacity, was for a long time the most prominent theme of public and private discussion, admiration being largely min- gled with blank incredulity, and not a little ridicule. Even in congress, on the appli- cation of Professor Morse for government aid, to enable him to demonstrate the value of his invention by constructing a line between Washington and Baltimore, in 1838, there were not found wanting learned legislators who treated the idea as a mere chimera. It was the same congress of which Esjjy, the " Storm King," was asking assistance, to test his favorite theory, then so prominently discussed. Both Morse and Espy, says a writer of that time and the event, became the butt of ridicule, the target of merciless arrows of wit. They were voted down- right bores, and the idea of giving them money was pronounced farcical. They were considered monomaniacs, and as such w^ere laughed at, punned upon, and made the standing staple for jokes. One morn- ing, however, a gentleman rose from his seat in the house — quite to the astonish- ment of everybody, for he had never been known to speak before, unless it was to vote or to address the speaker, — and said. " I hold in my hand a resolution, which I respectfully offer for the consideration of the house." In a moment a page was at his desk, and the resolution was trans- ferred to the speaker and by him delivered to the clerk, who read as follows : " Resolved, That the committee of ways and means be instructed to inquire into the expediency of appropriating $30,000, to enable Professor Morse to establish a line of telegrajth between Washington and Baltimore." The gentleman who offered it was Mr. Ferris, one of the New York representatives, a man of wealth and learning, but modest, retiring, and diffi- dent. This being merely a resolution of inquiry, it passed without opposition, and, out of regard to the mover, without com- ment. In time, it came before the com- mittee, all the members of which had, by their public services and brilliant talents, acquired a national reputation. The clerk of the committee read the resolution. The chairman, Mr. Fillmore, in a clear, distinct voice, said, " Gentlemen, what disposition shall be made of it ? " There was a dead pause around the table. No one seemed inclined to take the initiative. It was expected that, inasmuch as the mover of the resolution in the house was a democrat, the democratic side of the com- mittee would stand god-father to it there. But not a bit of it. They felt that the whole thing was preposterous and deserv- ing of no countenance. At length, one on the other side broke the ominous silence by moving that the committee instruct the chairman to report a bill to the house, appropriating thirty thousand dollars for the purpose named in the resolution. This movement "brought them all up standing ! " No speeches were made. The question was called for. The yeas and nays were taken alphabeticallv, and, as four had voted on the affirmative side, and four on the negative, it fell to the lot of Governor Wallace, of Indiana, whose name came last on the list, to decide the question. He, however, had paid no atten- tion to the matter, and, like the majority of 248 MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. people, considered it a great humbug. He had not the faintest idea of the importance to his country, of the vote he was to cast. But as fortune would have tt, the thought came to mind that Mr. Morse was even then experimenting in the capitol with the " new-fangled invention," having stretched a wire from the basement story to the ante-room of the senate chamber. It was therefore in Governor Wallace's power to satisfy himself at once in regard to the question of feasibility, and he determined to try it. He asked leave to consider his vote. This was granted. He imme- diately stepped out of the committee room, and went to the ante-chamber, which was found crowded with representatives and strangers. Governor Wallace requested permission to put a question to the " mad- man " (Morse) at the other end of the wire. It was granted immediately. He ^^^<^z^ tX%/. /^^^t^TTtTe.^ t c - wrote the question and handed it to the telegrapher. The crowd cried "read! read! " In a very short time the answer was received. When written out by the operator, the same cry of " read it ! read it ! " went up from the crowd. To his utter astonishment. Governor Wallace found that the madman at that end of the wire had more wit and force than the congressmen at the other — the laugh was turned completely upon tho committee-man. But, as western men are rarely satisfied with one fall — not less than two failures out of three attempts forcing from tliem any acknowledgment of defeat, — the governor put a second question, and there came a second answer. If the first raised a laugh at his expense, the second convert- ed that laugh into a roar and a shout. He was more than satisfied. Picking up his hat, he bowed himself out of the crowd, the good-natured shout following him as he passed along the passages and halls of the capitol. As a matter of course. Governor W^allace voted in the affirmative of the motion then pending before the committee, and it prevailed. The chairman reported the bill, the house and senate concurred in its passage, and thus was Professor Morse successful in this his last struggle to demonstrate the practicability of — as it has proved — the most amazing in- vention of the age, the electro-mag- netic telegraph. If the committee had ignored the proposition, there is no telling what would liave been the result. That the experiment would have been finally made, no one can entertain a doubt. But when or by whom is the question. It was not within the range of ordinary individual fortune to make it, and, if it was, none but Professor Morse would have hazarded it. It appears, however, that Professor Morse came to the last stage of discour- agement, in the prosecution of his appeal to congress, before light finally broke in upon him. On the very last day of the session, the bill relating to his case was the one hundred and twenti- eth on the senate docket, to be acted upon in course. Concerning this scene, a writer in Harper's Monthly states, that during the entire day Professor Morse watched the course of legislation from the gallery with nervous trepidation and the deepest anxiety. At length, worn out by the interminable discussion of some MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 249 senator who seemed to he speaking against time, and overcome by his prolonged watching, he left the gallery at a late hour and went to his lodgings, under the belief that it was not possible his bill could be reached, and that he must again turn his attention to those labors of the brush and easel by means of which he might be enabled to prosecute appeals to congress at a future time. He accordingly made his preparations to return to New York on the following morning, and retiring to rest, sank into a profound slumber, from which he did not awake until a late hour on the following morn- ing. But a short time after, while seated at the breakfast-table, the servant an- nounced that a lady desired to see him. Upon entering the parlor, he found Miss Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the Commissioner of Patents, whose face was all aglow with pleasure. '' I have come to congratulate you," she remarked, as he entered the room, and approached to shake hands with her. " To congratulate me ! " rejilied Mr. Morse, " and for wliat ? " " Wliij, upon the passage of your hill, to he sure," she replied. " You must surely be mistaken ; for I left at a late hour, and its fate seemed inevitable." "Indeed I am not mistaken," she re- joined ; " father remained until the close of the session, and your bill was the very last that was acted on, and I begged permission to convey to you the news. I am so happy that I am the first to tell you." The feelings of Professor Morse may be better imagined than described. He grasped his young companion warmly by the hand, and thanked her over and over again for the joyful intelligence, saying — " As a reward for being the first bearer of this news, you shall send over the tele- graph the first message it conveys." " I will hold you to that promise," replied she ; " Remember ! " "Remember!" responded Professor Morse ; and they parted. The plans of Mr. Morse were now alto- gether changed. His journej' homeward was abandoned, and he set to work to carry out the project of establishing the line of electro-telegraph, between Washington and Baltimore, authorized by the bill. His first idea was to convey the wires, inclosed in a leaden tube, beneath the ground. He had already arranged a plan by which the wires, insulated by a covering of cotton saturated in gum shellac, were to be inserted into leaden pipes in the process of casting. But after the expenditure of several thousand dollars, and much delay this plan was given up, and the one now in use, of extending them on poles, adopted. By the month of May, 1844, the whole line was laid, and magnets and recording instruments were attached to the ends of the wires at Mount Clare Depot, Balti- more, and at the supreme court chamber, in the capitol at Washington. When the circuit was complete, and the signal at the one end of the line was responded to by the operator at the other, Mr. Morse sent a messenger to Miss Ellsworth to inform her that the telegraph awaited her mes- sage. She speedily responded to this, and sent for transmission the following, which was the first formal dispatch ever sent through a telegraphic wire connecting remote places with each other : " What hath God wrought ! " The original of the message is now in 'ihe archives of the Historical Societj' at Hartford Connecticut. The practicability and utility of the invention were now clearly and firmly established. Of the subsequent history and triumphs of this invention, it is scarcely necessary here to speak. The lines of telegraphic communication which now, like a web, traverse the length and breadth of the republic, and which, indeed, connect and cover as with a ne' work the four conti- nents of the globe,--these attest the vast- ness, influence and power, of this amazing invention. Nor is it necessary to specify the details of those various mechanical improvements in the construction and 250 MOESE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGEAPH. working of the apparatus, as also its diver- sified adaptation, brought forward by the fertile genius of Morse, as well as by House, Hughes, Phelps, Shaffner, O'Eeilly, Vail, Farmer, Page, Hicks, Ritchie, etc., and which have secured to the whole system of telegraphy its present wonderful degree of scientific perfection, bringing to the discoverer fame and pecuniary fortune at home, and also the most splendid medals, decorations of honor, and " golden gifts," from nearly all the crowned heads of Europe. It is an interesting fact, that the first kingly acknowledgment received by Professor Morse, was the "Order of Glory " from the Sultan of Turkey. The rulers of Prussia, Wurtemberg, and Aus- tria, sent him superb gold medals ; the emperor of the French made him a Cheva- lier of the Legion of Honor, instituted by Napoleon the First ; while Denmark made him one of the knightly " Dannebrog," and Spain a Knight Commander of the Order of Isabella the Catholic. jjowerful an enemy Abd-el-Kader proved himself to the French, during the career of conquest undertaken by the latter in Algeria. On a certain occasion, during that terrific struggle, the French telegraph made the announcement : " Abd-el-Kader has been taken ;" a fog, however, enveloped the remainder of the sentence in obscurity. The excitement, neverthe- less, in the money market, was at fever height, at the supposed capture of that adroit enemj', and the funds rose tremen- douslj'. The following day, the sentence being completed, the intelligence ran thus : "Abd-el-Kader has been taken with a dreadful cold in his head." The funds fell, but the coitj) — which was worthy of a Rothschild's subtlety — had been suffi- ciently successful for those who managed to make the telegraph play into the hands of their financial agents. A case of a somewhat different character — one involving the "tender passion" — was the following. A daughter of one of 4( '•^ ORDERS OF GLORY COXFERRED ON PROFESSOR MORSE. An example or two of the humorous side- of the telegraph may here be given, as a kind of side-relief to a subject liable to be regarded as somewhat exclu- sively involving abstract philosophical science and the technical minutiae of its application. Probably no one is ignorant of how the wealthiest merchants in Boston, Mass., had formed an attachment for a handsome young man, who was a clerk in her father's counting-house. The father having heard of the attachment, feigned ignorance of it, with a view of enabling him more success- fully to adopt measures that would break it off. For this purpose he directed the MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 251 young man to proceed to England, upon business ; and the lover accordingly ar- rived, on his route, in New York. In the meantime, the enamored young lady had got an inkling of her father's intentions, and wishing to frustrate them effectualbj, sent a message to that effect to her lover in New York, by the following expedient: She took her place in the telegraph office in Boston, and he did the same with a magistrate, in the New York office ; and now, the exchange of consent being duly given by the electric flash, they were viar- ried ly telegraph ! Shortly after, the lady's father insisted upon her marriage with the gentleman he had selected for her; and judge of his amazement when she told him that she was already married — the wife of Mr. B., then on his way to England ; adding an explanation of the novel way in which the ceremony was per- formed. And so the matter ended ; adding another to the triumphs of love and — electricity ! During the revolutionary excitement in Europe, in 1848, the astounding report flashed across Europe, that the king of Prussia had abdicated ! The statement originated with the electric telegraph, which sent the following dispatch: "The — King of — Prussia — has — gone to Pot — ." In another minute, the communication in this form was on its way to the news- paper bulletins, and was immediately tele- graphed thence in every direction. Not long after, however, the dial was again agitated, and then "s — dam" was added; making the very quiet piece of news. " The King of Prussia has gone to Pots- dam." In the early days of telegraphing, the competition for priority among the lead- ing journals was ver}' great, and feats were performed which, for that day of the art's infancy, were indeed marvelous. One instance will suffice : An iwjJoi't^iit speech liy Mr. Clay was much looked for. It was delivered in Lexington, Ky., on a Saturda}', and the proprietor of the New York Herald deter- mined on beating his contemporaries. Express riders were ready, and in less than five hours a full report of the speech was in Cincinnati. Notifications had been sent along the line of telegraph to " look out;" and at four o'clock on Sunday morning, the publisher of the Herald had the speech before him in New York — the distance being more than eleven hundred miles. This was done during a heavy rain, and while a thunder shower was passing over a portion of both the eastern and western lines. At Cincinnati, where it was to be copied in passing, the telegraph suddenly ceased working, to the dismay of the superintendent. Being short of proper hands, he mounted a horse, and followed the line, through the i^elting storm, until he found a break, caused by the falling of a tree, beyond Turtle Creek, a distance of twenty-one miles. He finished mending the break at dark, and then returned to the city, where, in the temporary absence of other competent operators, received the speech and sent it to New York, finishing it at four o'clock in the morning. XXXI. STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CON- GRESS.— 1836. John Quincy Adams, the "Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single-Handed, in its Defense, in the House of Representatives — Passage of tlie " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assae- eination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed Before in the Halls of Legislation — Triumph of His Master Mind — The Right and Petition a Constitutional One. — Indiscrim- inate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. — Mr. Adams Their Champion. — An Unpopular Posi- tion. — He Defies every Menace. — His Bold and Intrepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance. Monster Petitions Pour In. — A Memorial from Slaves. — Wild Tumult in the House. — Cries of " Expel the Old Scoundrel!" — Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him — Mr. Adams Unmoved Amidst the Tempest. — Eloquence and Indomitableness — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasper- ation. — Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and Vic- torious at Last. — Wliat He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents. MONSTEK PETITION TO CONGRESS. evident to considerate men, of *' Thoueh aped, he wat bo iron of limb, Koneot llie youth could cope with hiint And til.- f'li B whom he ttinglv kei'I at bay, Outiiuuibercd his huire ol white and grt^." 'lENEEABLE in years, and laden with political f honors — such as a king might be proud of, John Quinc3' Adams took his seat as a member of the house of representatives at Washington, in 1831. It was about this time, that the anti-slavery socie- ties of the North began to petition congress for the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, the inhibition of the inter-state slave-trade, and kin- dred measures. Though comparatively few at the outset, the petitioners for these objects increased greatly in numbers during the next four or five years, until they reached, in one congress, three- fourths of a million. But not all of these petition- ers were 'abolitionists,' in the then commonly accepted meaning of that term. In the defense of the untrammeled right of petition, as also that of the freedom of speech and of the press, it became parties, that not alone was the right to discuss and all petition in regard to slavery involved, but that vital constitutional principles were at stake, and that these must be defended, irrespective of the merits of the particular sub- ject over which the battle was waged. It was upon this broad ground that Mr. Adams, STRUGGLE FOE THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 253 'the old man eloquent,' as he was famil- iarly called, became at once the champion of freedom of debate and the right of peti- tion in the national legislature, making not America only, but the civilized world, resound with the clash of the conflict. Of tlie long and eventful life of this extraor- dinary man, the chapter covering the events here recorded may perhaps be regarded as the most striking and brilliant. The exalted positions he had held, almost from the very foundation of the govern- ment, his multifarious learning, his world- wide renown, lent luster to the cause ; while his exhaustless resources, his skill in debate, his dauntless courage and indomit- able will, were a tower of strength to its friends, and, as the sequel will show, a source of mortification and discomfit- ure to its foes. No threats and no tu- mults could for a moment cause him to quail or waver in his heroic determina- tion. On the twelfth of December, 1831, Mr. Adams, then at the very outset of his con- gressional career, presented fifteen peti- tions, all numerously signed, from inhabi- tants of Pennsylvania, praying for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in the District of Columbia. In presenting these petitions, Mr. Adams remarked, that although the petitioners were not his immediate constituents, he inferred, from a letter which accompanied the petitions, that they came from members of the Soci- ety of Friends, or Quakers, — a body of men, he declared, than whom there was no more respectable and worthy class of citi- zens in the whole country. At the same time, while he considered that the petitions for the abolition of the slave-trade in the District related to a proper subject for the legislation of Congress, he did not approve of those which prayed for the congressional abolition of slavery there. Similar petitions were constantly for- warded from different parts of the land, during successive terms of congress, for Mr. Adams to present, the parties well knowing that they could rely upon his scrupulous fidelity to them in the high places of power, and that, against all men- aces or blandishments, he would intrepidly advocate that most sacred privilege of free- men — the right of petition. Becoming alarmed at these demonstra- tions, the southern members of congress determined to arrest them, and, on the eighth of Februarj', 183G, a committee of the house was appointed to consider what disposition should be made of petitions and memorials of this nature. The report of this committee consisted, in substance, of three resolutions, as follows: First, that congress could not constitutionally inter- fere with slavery in any of the states ; second, that it ought not to interfere with slavery in the District of Columbia ; third, that all petitions, propositions, or papers of any kind, relating to the subject, should, if brought before congress, be laid upon the table, without liberty of debate, and receive no further action. This report ivas the casting of the die. Well was it called the "Gag Rule." When the first of these resolutions was taken up, Mr. Adams said, if the house would allow him five minutes' time, he would prove the resolution to be untrue. His request was denied. On the third declaration, Mr. Adams refused to vote, and sent to the speaker's chair the follow- ing protest, demanding that it should be placed on the journal of the house, there to stand to the latest posterity : "I hold the resolution to be a direct vio- lation of the constitution of the United States, of the rules of this house, and of the rights of my constituents." Notwithstanding the rule embodied in this resolution virtually trampled the right of petition into the dust, yet it was adopted by the house, by a large majority. But ]Mr. Adams was not to be baffied by this arbitrary restriction. Petitions on the subject of slavery continued to be trans- mitted to him in increased numbers, some of them of monster size, bearing thousands of signatures. With unwavering firmness — against a bitter and unscrupulous oppo- sition, exasperated to the highest pitch by his unconquerable pertinacity — amidst a 254 STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. perfect tempest of vituperation and abuse — he persevered, unvanquished, in present- ing these petitions, one by one, to the amount sometimes of two hundred in a day, and demanding the attention of the house on each ssparate petition. His position in these scenes, — advocating, amidst scorn and derision, and threats of expulsion and assassination, the inalienable right of petition for the poorest and hum- blest in the land, — was in the highest degree illustrious and sublime ; a spectacle unwitnessed before in the halls of legisla- tion. On the sixth of January, 1837, Mr. Adams presented the petition of one hun- dred and fifty women, whom he stated to be the wives and daughters of his immedi- ate constituents, praying for the abolition of slaver3' in the District of Columbia; and he moved that the petition be read. Objection was made, whereupon Mr. Adams remarked that, understanding that it was not the petition itself which was laid upon the table, but the motion to receive, he gave notice that he should call up that motion, for decision, every day, so long as freedom of speech was allowed to him as a member of the house. Being called to order at this stage of proceedings, Mr. Adams said he would then have the honor of presenting to the house the peti- tion of two hundred and twenty-eight women, the wives and daughters of his immediate constituents ; and, as a part of the speech which he intended to make, he would take the liberty of reading the peti- tion, which was not long, and would not consume much time. Objection being made to the reception of the petition, Mr. Adams at once proceeded to read, that the petitioners, inhabitants of South Wey- mouth, in the state of Massachusetts, " impressed with the sinfulness of slavery, and keenly aggrieved by its existence in a part of our country over which con- gress " Here Mr. Pinckney, of South. Carolina, rose to a question of order, and, after a brisk colloquy in the house, the speaker ruled that Mr. Adams must confine hini- self to stating the contents of the petition. Mr. Adams. — I am doing so, sir. The Speaker. — Not in the opinion of the chair. 3Ir. Adams. — I was at this point of the petition: "Keenly aggrieved by its exist- ence in a part of our country over which congress possesses exclusive jurisdiction in all cases whatsoever " Loud cries of " Order," "Order ! " Mr. Adams. — "Do most earnestly peti- tion your honorable body " Mr. Chambers, of Kentucky, rose to a point of order. Mr. Adams. — "Immediately to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia " Mr. Chambers reiterated his call to order, and the Speaker directed Mr. Adams to take his seat. Mr. Adams proceeded, however, with great rapidity of enunciation, and in a very loud tone of voice — "And to declare every human being free who sets foot vjion its soil ! " The confusion in the hall at this time was very great. The speaker decided that it was not in order for a member to read a petition, whether it was long or short. Mr. Adams appealed from any decision which went to establish the principle that a member of the United States house of representatives should not have the power to read what he chose. He had never before heard of such a thing. If the hith- STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 255 erto invariable practice was to be reversed, let the decision stand upon record, and let it appear how entirely the freedom of speech was suppressed in this house. If the reading of a paper was to be suppressed in his person, so help him God, he would only consent to it as a matter of record. Saying this, he instantly resumed and finished the reading of the petition, that the petitioners " respectfully announce their inten- tion to present the same petition yearly before this Iionorable body, that it might at least be a memorial in the holy cause of human freedom, that they had done what they could." These words were read by Mr. Adams, at the top of his voice, amidst tumultuous cries of "order" from every part of the house. The petition was finally received, and laid upon the table. One month after this, namely, on the seventh of February, after Mr. Adams had offered some two hundred or more aboli- tion petitions, he came to a halt, and, with- out yielding the floor, employed himself in packing up or arranging his budget of documents. He was about resuming his seat, when, suddenly glancing at a paper on his desk, he took it up, and exclaimed, in a shrill tone — " Mr. Speaker, I have in my possession, a petition of a somewhat extraordinary character; and I wish to inquire of the chair if it be in order to present it." The Speaker replied, that if the gentle- man from Massachusetts would state the character of the petition, the chair would probably be able to decide on the subject. "Sir," ejaculated Mr. Adams, "the petition is signed by eleven slaves of the town of Fredericksburg, in the county of Culpepper, in the state of Virginia. It is one of those petitions which, it has oc- curred to my mind, are not what they purport to be. It is signed partly by per- sons who cannot write, by making their marks, and partly by persons whose hand- writing would manifest that they have received the education of slaves. The petition declares itself to be from slaves. and I am requested to present it. I will send it to the chair." The speaker, Mr. Polk, who habitually extended to Mr. Adams every courtesy and kindness imaginable, was taken by surprise, and found himself involved in a dilemma. Giving his chair one of those hitches which ever denoted his excitement, he said that a petition from slaves was a novelty, and involved a question that he did not feel called on to decide. He would like to take time to consider it ; and, in the meantime, would refer it to the house. The house was very thin at the time, and but little attention was paid to what was going on, till the excitement of the speaker attracted the attention of Mr. Dixon H. Lewis, of Alabama, who impa^ tientlv, and under great excitement, rose and inquired what the petition W'as. The speaker furnished the required informa- tion ; whereupon Mr. Lewis, forgetting all discretion, whilst he frothed at the mouth, turned towards Mr. Adams, and exclaimed, 'in thunder-tones — " Bij , sir, this is not to he endured any longer !" " Treason ! treason ! Expel the old scoun- drel ; put him out; do not let him disgrace the house any longer," screamed a half dozen other members. " Get up a resolution to meet the case," exclaimed a member from North Carolina. Mr. George C. Dromgoole, who had ac- quired quite a reputation as a parliamen- tarian, was selected as the very man who, of all others, was most capable of drawing up a resolution that would meet and cover the emergency. He produced a resolution and preamble, in which it was stated, sub- stantially, that, whereas the Hon. John Quincy Adams, a representative from Mas- sachusetts, had presented to the house a petition signed by negro slaves, thus " giving co!or to an idea " that bondmen were capable of exercising the right of petition, it was " Resolved, That he be taken to the bar of the house, and be cen- sured by the speaker thereof." A still more stringent resolution was introduced by Hon. Waddy Thompson, 256 STRUGGLE FOE THE EIGHT OF PETITION. namely, that Mr. Adams, " having been guilty of gross disrespect to the house, be instantly brought to the bar, to receive the severe censure of the speaker." Sev- eral other resolutions and propositions, from members of slave-holding states, were submitted, but none proved satisfactory even to themselves. The idea of bringing the venerable ex-president to the bar, like a culprit, to receive a reprimand from a comparatively youthful speaker, was equal- ly disgraceful and absurd. Mr. Adams, however, entirely unmoved by the tempest which raged around him, defended him- self, and the integrity of bis purpose, with his accustomed ability and eloquence. "In regard to the resolutions now before the house," said he, "as they all concur in naming me, and in charging me with high crimes and misdemeanors, and in calling me to the bar of the house to answer for my crimes, I have thought it was my duty to remain silent, until it should be the pleasure of the house to act, either on one or the other of these resolu- tions. I suppose that if I shall be brought to the bar of the house, I shall not be struck mute by the previous question, before I have an ojiportunity to say a word or two in my own defense." "Now, as to the fact what the petition was for," said Mr. Adams, in another por- tion of his speech, "I simply state to the gentleman from Alabama, who has sent to the table a resolution assuming that this petition was for the abolition of slavery — I state to him that he is mistaken. He must amend his resolution ; for if the house should choose to read this petition, I can state to them they would find it something very much the reverse of that which the resolution states it to be. And if the gentleman from Alabama still chooses to bring me to the bar of the house, he must amend his resolution in a very important particular; for he may probably have to put into it, that my crime has been for attempting to introduce the petition of slaves that slavery should not be abolished." Eeiterating the principle, that the right of petition belongs to all, Mr. Adams said that he felt it a sacred duty to present any petition, couched in respectful language, from any citizen of the United States, be its object what it might, — be the prayer of it that in which he could concur, or that to which he was utterly opposed ; no law could be found, even in the most abject despotism, which deprives even the mean- est or most degraded, of the right to sup- plicate for a boon, or to pray for mercy; there is no absolute monarch on earth, who is not compelled to receive the petitions of his people, whosoever they may be, — not even the sultan of Turkey can walk the streets and refuse to receive petitions from the lowest and vilest of the land. Whsn southern members saw that, in their haste, they had not tarried to ascer- tain the nature of the petition, and that it prayed for the perpetuation, instead of the abolition of slavery', their position became so ludicrous, that their exasperation was greatly increased. At the time the petition was announced by Mr. Adams, the house was very thin ; but the excite- ment that was produced soon filled it; and, besides, the sergeant-at-arms had been instructed to arrest and bring in all absen- tees. The excitement commenced at about one o'clock, and continued until seven o'clock in the evening, when the house adjourned. Mr. Adams stood at his desk, resolutely refusing to be seated till the matter was disposed of, alleging that if he were guilty, he was not entitled to a seat among high and honorable men. When Mr. Dromgoole's resolution was read to the house, for its consideration, Mr. Adams yielded to it one of those sar- castic sneers which he was in the habit of giving, when provoked to satire; and said — "Mr. Speaker, if I understand the reso- lution of the honorable gentleman from Virginia, it charges me with being guilty of ' giving color to an idea ! ' " The whole house broke forth in one common, irrepres- sible peal of laughter, at this capital double entendre; and the Dromgoole resolution was actually laughed out of existence. The house now found that it had got itself STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 257 in a dilemma — that Mr. Adams was too much for it; and, at last, adjourned, leav- ing the affair in the position in which they found it. For several days this subject continued to agitate the house — and the nation. Mr. Adams not only warded off the virulent attacks made upon him, but carried the war so effectually into the camp of his ene- mies, that, becoming heartily tired of the contest, they repeatedly endeavored to get rid of the whole subject by laying it on the table. To this Mr. Adams oljjected. He insisted that it should be thoroughly canvassed. Immense excitement contin- ued, and call after call of the house was made. At length, the subject was brought to a termination by the passage of a pre- amble and resolution — much softened down, in comparison with what was at first proposed — declaring that the paper cannot be received, and that slaves have no right to petition. The slave petition in question is believed to have been a counterfeit, manufactured by certain members of congress from slave-holding states, and was sent to Mr. Adams by way of experiment — with the double design of ascertaining if he could be imposed upon ; and, if the deception succeeded, those who got it up were curi- ous to know if the venerable statesman would redeem his pledge, and present a petition, no matter who it came from. He was too wily not to detect the plot at the outset ; he knew that all was a hoax ; but he resolved to present the paper, and then turn the tables upon its authors. His success in thus defeating his oppo- nents on their mad intention of censure, was one of the most signal instances of personal and parliamentary triumph. In vain did they threaten assassination, indictment before the grand jury, and other proceedings, to seal his lips in silence. In vain, too, did they declare that he should "be made amenable to another tribunal (mob law), and, as an incendiary, be brought to condign puni.°.h- ment." "My life on it," said a southern member, "if he presents that petition from 17 slaves, we shall yet see him within the walls of the penitentiarj'." Firm stood the white-haired sage of more than seventy winters, and with withering rebukes repelled his hot-blooded assailants. His clarion voice rang defiantly through the hall, as he said — " Do the gentlemen from the south think they can frighten me by their threats ? If that be their object, let me tell them, sir, they have preciselij mistake?i their man. I am not to be frightened from the discharge of a sacred duty, by their indignation, by their violence, nor, sir, by all the grand juries in the universe. I hav3 doi:e only mj' dutj- ; and I shall do it again, under the same circumstances, even though they recur to-morrow." On the twenty-fourth of January, 1842, Mr. Adams presented the petition of forty- five citizens of Haverhill, Massachusetts, praj'ing that congress would immediately take measures peaceably to dissolve the Union of the States : First, because no union can be agreeable which does not present prospects of reciprocal benefits ; second, because a vast proportion of the resources of one section of the Union is annually drained to sustain the views and course of another section, without any adequate return ; third, because, judging from the history of past nations, such a union, if persisted in, in the present course of things, would certainly overwhelm the whole nation in utter destruction. Mr. Adams moved that the petition be referred to a select committee, with in- structions to report an answer showing the reasons why the prayer of it ought not to be granted. Immediate and wild excitement fol- lowed the presentation of this petition. Mr. Hopkins, of Virginia, moved to burn it in presence of the house. Mr. Wise, of the same state, asked the speaker if it was in order to move to censure anj' member for presenting such a petition. Mr. Gilmer, also of Virginia, moved a resolu- tion, that Mr. Adams, for presenting such a petition, had justly incurred the censure of the house. Mr. Adams said he hoped 258 STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. JOHN QUIXCV ADAMS DEFENDING THE BIOHT OF PBTITION IX CONGRESS. that the resolution would be received and discussed. Angrj' debate continued, until the house adjourned. The next day, the whole body of south- ern members came into the house, appar- ently resolved to crush Mr. Adams and his cause — the right of petition — forever. They gathered in groups, conversed in whispers, and the whole aspect of their conduct at twelve o'clock indicated the approach of some high-handed proceeding. Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, who had been selected as spokesman for the occasion, rose, and, having asked and received of Mr. Gilmer leave to offer a substitute for his resolution of censure which was pending at the adjournment, presented three resolutions, which had been prepared at a caucus, the night before, and which declared that the peti- tion in question involved a proposition to the house to commit perjury and high treason, and that Mr. Adams, for offering it, receive the severest censure of that body. Assuming a manner and tone as if he felt the historical importance of his posi- tion, he spoke with great coolness and solemnity, — a style wholly unusual with him; exhibited, too, a magisterial air, and judicial consequence, as if he thought that he was about to pour down the thunder of condemnation on the venerable object of his attack, as a judge pronouncing sentence on a convicted culprit, in the sight of approving men and angels. The vast audience before whom he spoke were not to be left in any doubt of his eminent capacity to act the part he had assumed, of prosecutor, judge, and executioner. "\^nien ]Mr. Marshall concluded, the chair announced to Mr. Adams that his position entitled him to the floor ; bringing up to the imagination a parallel scene — •'Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak for thyself.' Up rose, then, that bald, gray old man, his hands trembling with constitutional infirmity and age, upon whose consecrated head the vials of partisan wrath had been outpoured. Among the crowd of slave- liolders who filled the galleries he could STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 269 seek no friends, and but a few among those immediately around him. Unexcited, he raised his voice, high-keyed, as was usual with him, but clear, untremulous, and firm. In a moment his infirmities disap- peared, although his shaking hand could not but be noticed ; trembling not with fear, but with age. At first there was nothing of indignation in his tone, manner, or words. Surprise and cold contempt were all. The thread of his great discourse was mainly his present and past relations to Virginia and Virginians. After grate- fully acknowledging his infinite obligations to the great Virginians of the first age of the federal republic, he modestly and unpretendingly recounted the unsought, exalted honors, heaped upon him by Wash- ington, Madison, and Monroe, and detailed with touching simplicity and force some of his leading actions in the discharge of these weighty trusts. In pursuing his remarks, he chanced to fix his eye upon Marshall, who was moving down one of the side-aisles. Instantly, at the sugges- tion of the moment, he burst forth in a touching appeal to the hallowed memory of Marshall, the venerated and immaculate Virginian, through a long career of judi- cial honor and usefulness. With a flash of withering scorn, Mr. Adams struck at the unhappy Marshall of another day. A single breath blew all his mock-judicial array into air and smoke. In a tone of insulted majesty and reinvigorated spirit, Mr. Adams then said, in reply to the auda- cious charge of high treason, " I call for the reading of the first para- graph of the Declaration of Independence. Read it ! read it ! and see what that says of the right of a people to reform, to change, to dissolve their government." The look, the tone, the gesture, of the insulted patriot, at that instant, were most imposing. He seemed to have renewed his youth like the eagles, and his voice was that of sovereign command. The burthen of seventy-five winters rolled off, and he rose above the puny things around him. When the passage of the Declaration was read which solemnly proclaims the right of reform, revolution, and resistance to oppression, the grand old man thundered out — " Read that again !" Looking proudly around on the listen- ing audience, he heard his triumphant vindication sounded forth in the glorious sentences of the nation's Magna Charta, written by Mr. Jefferson, a Virginian. The sympathetic revulsion of feeling was intense, though voiceless ; every drop of free, honest blood in that vast assemblage bounded with high impulse, every fiber thrilled with excitement. The members of the house were all gathered around him, even his persecutors paying involuntary tribute to the 'old man eloquent.' Lord Morpeth was an attentive spectator and auditor ; and so were governors, senators, judg'^s, and other high officials, innumera^ ble. A strong exhibition of the facts in the case, mostly in cold, calm, logical, measured sentences, concluded Mr. Adams's effort, and he sat down, vindicated, victo- rious. Intemperate debates, with violence undi- minished, succeeded, in which all the topics of party censure, from the adoption of the constitution, were collected and heaped upon Mr. Adams, by Marshall, Wise, Gilmer, and others. No description can do justice to the effective eloquence of Mr. Adams in reply, — including amusing particulars of missives he had received from the south threatening him with assassination ; among other kindly hints, of this sort, sent through the post-office, being a colored lithograph portrait of him- self, with the picturesque annotation of a rifle-ball on the forehead, and a promise that such a remedy would "stop his music." On the eleventh day of this debate, Mr. Adams, in opening his defense, stated it as his intention to go over the whole affair, and that he should require a great deal more time, in addition to what had already been consumed ; but he was willing to forego it all, provided it could be don? without sacrificing his rights, the rights of his constituents, and those of the peti- 260 STEUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. tioners. He then stated, that if any gentleman would make a motion to lay the whole subject — that of which Marshall had been made the champion — on the table, he would forbear to proceed with his defense. This motion was at once made by Mr. Botts, of Virginia, and car- ried by a vote of one hundred and six to ninety-three. The petition from Haverhill was then refused to be received, three- fourths of the house voting against it. It would appear well-nigh incredible, that a venerable man like Mr. Adams should be able to carry on, for eleven days, almost single-handed, so great a con- test. That this was due, in no small degree, to liis consummate skill as a par- liamentarian, cannot be questioned. The following memorable instance of his power in this respect, will form a fitting close to this chapter. At the opening of the twenty-sixth con- gress, the clerk began to ci»il the roll of the members, according to custom. When he came to New Jersej', he stated that five seats of the members from that state were contested, and that, not feeling him- self authorized to decide the question, he should pass over those names, and proceed with the call. This gave rise to a general and violent debate on th« steps to be pur- sued under such circumstances. Innumer- able questions were raised, and proposi- tions made, but the house could not agree upon the mode of proceeding, and, from the second to the fifth day, the house remained in a perfectly' disorganized state, and in inextricable confusion, the clerk acting as the tool of his party. But the hour of disenthrallment was at hand ; a scene was to be presented which would send the mind back to those daj's when Cromwell exclaimed, " Sir Harry Vane ! wo unto you, Sir Harry Vane ! " — and in an instant dispersed the famous rump par- liament. Mr. Adams, from the opening of this scene of confusion and anarchy, had main- tained a profound silence. He appeared tc be engaged most of the time in writing. To a common observer he seemed to be reckless of everything around him. But nothing, not the slightest incident, escaped him. The fourth day of the struggle had now commenced. Mr. Hugh A. Garlandj the clerk, was directed to call the roll again. He commenced with Maine, as usual in those days, and was proceeding towards Massachusetts. Mr. Adams was now observed to be holding himself in readiness to get the floor at the earliest moment possible. His eye was riveted on the clerk, his hands clasped the front edge of his desk, where he alwaj-s placed them to assist him in rising. He looked, in the language of Otway, like a ' fowler eager for his prey.' " New Jersey ! " ejaculated Mr. Hugh Garland, "and the clerk has to repeat that " Mr. Adams sprang to the floor ! " I rise to interrupt the clerk," was hi.-t first ejaculation. " Silence, silence ! " resounded through the hall. " Hear him, hear him ! Hear what he has to say ! Hear John Quincy Adams !" was vociferated on all sides. In an instant, such profound silence reigned throughout the vast chamber, that the fall of a leaf of paper might have been heard in any part of it; and every eye was riveted on the venerable Nestor of Massa- chusetts, — one of the purest of statesmen and noblest of men ! He paused for a moment, and, having given Mr. Garland a withering look, he proceeded to address the dense throng. "It was not my intention," said he, "to take any part in these extraordinary pro- ceedings. I had hoped that this house would succeed in organizing itself; that a speaker and clerk would be elected, and that the ordinary business of legislation would have been progressed in. This is not the time, or place, to discuss the merits of the conflicting claimants for seats from New Jersey ; that subject belongs to the house of representatives, which, by the constitution, is made the ultimate arbiter of the qualifications of its members. But what a spectacle we here STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 261 present ! We degrade and disgrace our- selves ; we degrade and disgrace our con- stituents and our country. We do nut, and cannot organize ; and why ? Because the clerk of this house, the mere clerk, whom we create, whom we employ, and whose existence depends upon our will, usurps the throne, and sets us, the repre- sentatives, the vicegerents of the whole American people, at defiance, and holds us in contempt ! And what is this clerk of yours ? Is he to control the destinies of sixteen millions of freemen ? Is he to suspend, by his mere negative, the func- tions of government, and put an end to this congress ? He refuses to call the roll ! It is in j-our power to compel him to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily." Here he was interrupted hy a member, who said that he was authorized to say that compulsion could not reach the clerk, who had avowed that he would resign, rather than call the state of Now Jersey. "Well, sir," continued Mr. Adams, "then let him resign, and we maj' possibly discover some way by which we can get along, without the. aid of his all-powerful talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot organize in any other waj' — if this clerk of yours will not consent to our discharg- ing the trusts confided to us by our con- stituents, then let us imitate the example of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which, when the colonial governor, Dinwiddle, ordered it to disperse, refused to obey the imperious and insulting mandate, and, like men " The multitude could not contain or repress their enthusiasm any longer, but saluted the eloquent and indignant speaker, and intercepted him with loud and deaf- ening cheers, which seemed to shake the capitol to its center. The very Genii of applause and enthusiasm seemed to float in the atmosphere of the hall, and every heart expanded with indescribable pride and exultation. The turmoil, the dark- ness, the very chaos of anarchy, which had for successive days, pervaded the American congress, was dispelled by the magic, the talismanic eloquence of a single man 5 and. once more, the wheels of government and of legislation were put in motion. Having, by this powerful appeal, brought the yet unorganized assembly to a percep- tion of its real position, he submitted a motion requiring the acting clerk to pro- ceed in calling the roll. This and similar motions had already been made bj- other members. The difiiculty, indeed, was just this, that the clerk declined to entertain them. Accordingly, Mr. Adams was immediately' interrupted by a burst of voices demanding, " How shall the ques- tion be put ? " " Who will put the ques- tion ? " The voice of Mr. Adams was heard above all the tumult, " / intend to put the question myself!" That word brought order out of chaos. There was the master mind. As soon as the multitude had recovered itself, and the excitement of long and loud resounding plaudits had abated, Mr. Richard Barnwell Rhett, of South Caro- lina, leaped upon one of the desks, waved his hand, and exclaimed: " I move that the Honorable John Quincy Adams take the chair of the speaker of this house, and officiate as pre- siding officer, till the house be organized by the election of its constitutional officers ! As many as are agreed to this will say ay ; those " He had not an opportunity to complete the sentence, " those who are not agreed will say no," — for one universal, deafen- ing, tremendous ay, responded to the nomination. Hereupon, it was moved and ordered that Hons. Lewis Williams, of North Carolina, and Richard Barnwell Rhett, conduct John Quincy Adams to the chair. And well did Mr. Wise, of Virginia, say to him : " Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour of your life ; and if, when you shall be gathered to your fathers, I were asked to select the words which, in my judgment, are best calculated to give at once the character of the man, I would inscribe upon your tomb this sentence : / intend to put the question myself.'' 262 STRUGGLE FOS THE SIGHT OF PETITION. The crave old man lived not only to 860 the odious "gag rule" rescinded, but to listen to that magnificent speech from one of his colleagues, Dr. Palfrey, on the " inalienable rights of man," at the con- clusion of which, Mr. Adams characteris- tically exclaimed, "God be praised; the seals are broken ; the door is open ! " Dying in his country's capitol, in the )nidst of his public duties, in February, 1848, his illustrious career shone brightly to the end. As secretary of state under Mr, Monroe, and subsequently as presi- dent, his cabinet and other political asso- ciates consisted of such eminent statesmen as Crawford, Shelby, Crowninshield, Thompson, Southard, Meigs, McLean, Rush, Wirt, Barbour, Porter, Van Renssel- aer ; nor was his political ability hardly less appreciated by those master leaders in the ranks of his opponents. A whole nation deplored the loss and united in rendering homage to the memory of the fearless "champion of the right of petition." His successor in congress was Hon. Horace Mann, a kindred spirit. XXXII. PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESO- LUTION," IN THE U. S. SENATE, AFTER A THREE YEARS PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE.— 1837. Vinflication of President Jackson Against the Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 1834, for his Kemoval of the Government Deposites. — Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around Said Sen- tence, by the Secretary, in tlie Presence of the Senate and of a Vast and Tumultuous Crowd, at Mid- night. — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message Against It. — Public Ojiinion Divided — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill. — Jackson Denounces tlie Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt. — Orders the United States Funds lienioved. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson. — Resolution to this Effect Passed. — Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly. — His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Deci^ive Hour. — Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolw. — Strange and Impressive Scene. ■• Vo nowpr on earth— BO help me God !— shall control the key to the Nation's funds, but the United Statee GoTernmeDt itselL"— ^.^E3l- DENT Jackso.v. remark concerning the celebrated parlia- mentary feat accomplished in tlie passage of the "Expunging Resolution," by the United States Senate, could more appro- priately describe the chief actor in that proceeding, than the pregnant sentence written by Senator Benton's biographer, namel}', that as an exhibition of many especial traits of that senator's character — persistency, keen and sagacious insight, stubborn devotion to the fame of his party chief, unquailing courage, and confidence of success against any and all odds, — no act of his life was more striking. As is very well known, the mover in this exciting measure. Senator Benton, natural]}' made him- self peculiarly obnoxious to his political opponents, but he finally achieved success, and gained a great personal triumph. The motion was, to strike from the journals of the senate a resolution of censure passed upon General Jackson, March twenty-eighth, 1834, during the second term of his presidency, and the passion of partisans clothed the contest with a violence which shook the whole country. The history of this remarkable and deeplj' interesting affair runs as follows : In his message to congress, President Jackson expressed an opinion against renewing the SAFK PLACE FOR THE KEY TO TITE PUBLIC FUNDS. 2G4 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGINa RESOLUTION". charter of the United States bank, which would expire in 1836. The banli had not yet formally applied for such renewal, but, being thus pressed upon the attention of congress, it was referred to the committee on finance in both houses for examina- tion ; and on the thirtieth of April, 1830, Mr. McDuffie, of the house, made a report on the subject, taking ground directly at variance with the views of the president, arguing that Washington sanctioned and signed its original charter, that it had fulfilled the ends for which it was estab- lished, and that expediencj' and a regard for the public interest would dictate its continuance. The report in the senate concurred with these sentiments. Such was the effect produced by these reports, that the shares of the bank, which, under the effect of the message, had greatly fallen in value, soon reached the very highest figure. As early as 1832, a memorial was pre- sented to congress by the president and directors of the bank for a renewal of its charter. Soon after, a committee was ap- pointed to investigate the proceedings of the bank. A majority of this committee reported against the bank, principally on the ground of a violation of its char- ter bj' illegal transactions ; a minority report, however, declared that the affairs of the bank had been administered by Mr. Biddle and the directors, with very great abilitj', and with perfect fidelity to every obligation ; and that, being an institution indispensable to the preservation of a sound currenc}', and to the financial opera- tions of the government, its downfall would be a great national calamity. On the tenth of June, the senate passed a bill, by eight majoritj', favoring the bank, and, shortly after, the house con- curred by a majority of twenty-two. This bill was vetoed by the president, who de- clared it unauthorized by the constitution, subversive of the rights of the states, and dangerous to the liberties of the people. This veto, though not unexpected to the country, was bitterly denounced from one end of the Union to the other, as an act pregnant with fearful and appalling woes. Such, too, was the political complexion of congress, at this period, that it was impos- sible to obtain anything like the two-thirds vote requisite to pass a bill over the presi- dential veto. The conflict of opinion in regard to the bank, — an institution whose existence and operations naturally affected, for good or ill, every branch of industry, commerce, agriculture, and manufactures, throughout the country, — continued, and with in- creased intensity. All kinds of business had, by means of the vast loans so freely obtained from the bank, in larger or smaller sums, by speculators, become greatly inflated, and especially was this the case with stocks. Jackson, viewing the bank as, in this respect, an unhealthy corporation, and capable, in its dispensa- tion of favors, of being a dangerous polit- ical engine, determined to cripple and crush it, and, as an effectual measure to this end, he planned the withdrawal from the bank, of those funds belonging to the government, of which the bank, according to its charter, was the legal depository. During the recess of congress, namely, on the eighteenth of September, 1833, the president read to the cabinet a document advocating and advising a speedy removal of the public treasure deposited with the United States bank, — this treasure consti- tuting, as was well understood, the basis of the bank's credit and operations. In the document read by the president, on this occasion, he begged the cabinet to consider the measure as his own, and in support of which ho should require no one of them to make a sacrifice of opinion or principle. Its responsibility, he assured them, had been assumed by him, after the most mature deliberation and reflection, as necessary to preserve the morals of the people, the freedom of the press, and the purity of the elective franchise. Mr. Duane, at this time secretary of the treasury, disapproved of the proposed re- moval of the deposites, whereupon he was dismissed from that jiosition, and his place su^jplied by iioger B. Taney, who at once PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. 265 executed the presidential order. The president emphatically declared: "No power on earth — so Itelp irie God! — shall control the key to the nation's funds, but the United States government itself ! " Mr. Clay's indignant, burning eloquence, denunciatory of the acts of the executive, knew no bounds, and he concluded by offering resolutions of censure against the president, whieh, after a most stormy de- bate, passed the senate, in a sUghtbj altered form, on the twenty-eighth of Mareh, 1834, namelj^: "That the president, in the late executive proceedings in relation to the revenue, has assumed upon himself au- thority and power not conferred by the constitution and laws, but in derogation of both." Against this resolution. President Jackson sent in a long and severe protest. To this the senate responded, by resolu- tions declaring that the protest was a breach of the privileges of the senate, and that it should not be entered upon the journal. The house of representatives, however, sustained the president, in his opposition to the bank, and the removal of the deposites. Memorials and peti- tions, for or against the measures of the president, flowed in from all quarters. It was considered as momentous an issue as had ever agitated the land. The president's wrath was unmeasured, that the resolutions of censure, in sub- stance declaring him guilty of an impeach- able offense, should thus be spread upon the legislative journal. Mr. Benton, the most powerful friend of the president, lost no time in giving notice of his inten- tion to move a strong measure in behalf of the president, namely, an Expunging Resolution against the sentence of cen- sure passed and recorded b}' the senate, committing himself irrevocably to the prosecution of the resolution, until he should succeed in the effort, or terminate his political life. In support of the president's course, and of Mr. Benton's proposed method of vin- dication, various public proceedings were had in different sections of the country, and some of the state legislatures not only voted in favor of the removal of the record of censure, but instructed their con- gressional delegations to use their influence and votes in a similar direction. Mr. Benton's resolutions rehearsed the principal points involved in the past his- tory and present aspects of the contro- versy, quite at length, the closing resolu- tion being as follows : " That the said resolve be expunged from the journal ; and, for that purpose, that the secretary of the senate, at such time as the senate may appoint, shall bring the manuscript journal of the session 1833-34 into the senate, and, in the presence of the senate, draw black lines round the said resolve, and write across the face thereof, in strong letters, the following words : ' Expunged day of by order of the senate, this ■ , in the year of our Lord .'" For three years, successively, did Mr. Benton bring forward, on different oc- casions, his celebrated motion, and again and again he suffered defeat, after the most violent and scathing debates that ever took place in any parliamentary body, the senate at this time containing an unusual amount of oratorical talent and forensic power. But the last scene — and with it victory to the great Missourian and his presiden- tial master, — was now near at hand ; and 266 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING EESOLUTION. this scene, as described, mainlj-, by Mr. Bonton himself, was as follows : Saturday', tlio fourteenth of January, the democratic senators agreed to have a meeting, and to take their final measures for passing the expunging resolution. They knew they had the numbers ; but they also knew they had adversaries to grapple with to ■whom might be applied the proud motto of Ijouis the Fourteenth: "Not an un- equal match for numbers." They also knew that members of the party were in the process of separating from it, and would require conciliating. They met in the night at the then famous restaurant of Boulanger, giving to the assemblage the air of a convivial entertainment. It con- tinued till midnight, and required all the moderation, tact and skill of the prime movers to obtain and maintain the union upon details, on the success of which the fate of the measure depended. The men of conciliation were to be the efficient men of that night ; and all the winning re- sources of Wright, Allen of Ohio, and Linn of Missouri, were put into requisi- tion. There were serious differences upon the mode of expurgation, while agreed upon the thing; and finally obliteration, the favorite of the mover, was given up, and the mode of expurgation adopted wliicli had been proposed in the resolu- tions of the general assembly of Virginia, namely', to inclose the obnoxious sentence in a square of black lines — an oblong square : a compromise of opinions to which the mover agreed upon condition of being allowed to compose the epitaph — " Ex- piiiif/ed lit/ the order of the Senate." The agreement which was to lead to victorj' was then adopted, each one severally pledging himself to it, that there should should be no adjournment of the senate after the resolution was called until it was passed ; and that it should be called immediately after the morning business on the Monday ensuing. Expecting a protracted session, extending through the day and night, and knowing the difficulty of keeping men steady to their work and in good humor, when tired and hungry, the mover of the proceeding took care to provide, as far as possible, against such a state of things ; and gave orders that night to have an ample supply of coJd hams, turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, wines, and cups of hot coffee, ready in a certain committee room near the senate chamber by four o'clock on the afternoon of Monday. The motion to take up the subject was made at the appointed time, and imme- diately a debate of long speeches, chiefly on the other side, opened itself upon the question. As the darkness of approaching night came on, and the great chandelier was lit up, splendidly illuminating the chamber, then crowded with the members of the house, and the lobbies and galleries filled to their utmost capacity with visitors and spectators, the scene became grand and impressive. A few spoke on the side of the resolution — c'hiefiy Rives, Buchanan, Niles — and, with an air of ease and satisfac- tion that bespoke a quiet determination, and a consciousness of victory. The com- mittee room was resorted to in parties of four and six at a time, always leaving enough on watch ; and not resorted to by one side alone. The opposition were in- vited to a full participation — an invitation of which those who were able to maintain their good temper readily availed them- selves; but the greater part were not in a humor to cat anything — especially at such a feast. The night was wearing away ; the ex- pungers were in full force — masters of the chamber — happj' — and visibly determined to remain. It became evident to the great opposition leaders, that the inevit- able hour had come ; that the ' damnable deed' was to be done that night; and that the dignity of silence was no longer to them a tenable position. The battle was going against them, and they must go into it, without being able to re-establish it. In the beginning, they had not considered the expunging movement a serious pro- ceeding; as it advanced, they still ex- pected it to miscarry on some point ; now, PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING EESOLUTION. 267 the reality of the thing stood before them, confronting their presence, and refusing to " down " at any command. Mr. Calhoun opposed the measure, in a speech of great severity. The day (said he) is gone; night approaches, and night is suitable to the dark deed we meditate ; there is a sort of destiny iu this thing ; the act must be performed, and it is an ni:t wlilcli will tell upon the political his- tori/ of this country forever. Mr. Clay indulged in unmeasured de- nunciation of the whole thing. The last speech in opposition to the measure was made by Mr. Webster, who employed the strongest language he could was there. Expectation, and determina- tion to see the conclusion, were depicted upon every countenance. It was evident there was to be no adjournment until the vote should be taken — until the deed was done ; and this aspect of invincible deter- mination had its effect upon the ranks of the opposition. They began to falter under a useless persistence, for they alone now did the speaking; and while Mr. Webster was jet reciting his protest, two senators from the opposition side, who had been best able to maintain their equanim- ity, came round to the mover of the resolution, and said: 'This question has degenerated into a trial of nerves and 1 AO-SIMILE copy OF THE command, condemnatory of an act, -which, he declared, was so xmconstitutional, so (lernr/titor;/ to the character of the senate, and marked with so broad an impression of compliance with power. But, though thus pronounced an irregu- lar and unconstitutional proceeding, by Mr. Webster and the other senators with whom he sided and voted, Mr. John Quincy Adams, who was at the time a member of the house, and in direct antag- onism, politically, to Mr. Benton and to the Jackson administration, held a different opinion. Midnight (says Mr. Benton, in con- tinuing his account,) was now approach- ing. The dense masses which filled every inch of room in the lobbies and the gal- leries, remained immovable. No one went out ; no one could get in. The floor of the senate was crammed with privileged persons, and it seemed that all congress EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. muscles. It has become a question of physical endurance ; and we see no use in wearing ourselves out to keep off for a few hours longer what has to come before we separate. We see that jou are able and determined to carry your measure — so, call the vote as soon as you please. We shall say no more. Jlr. Webster con- cluded. No one rose. There was a pause, a dead silence, and an intense feeling. Presentlj' the silence was invaded by the single word, "question" — the parliament- arj' call for a vote — rising from the seats of different senators. One blank in the re- solve remained to be filled — the date of its adoption. It was done. The acting presi- dent of the senate, Mr. King, of Alabama, then directed the roll to be called. The yeas and nays had been previously ordered, and proceeded to be called by the secretary of the senate, the result showing a majority of five on the side of the expungers. 268 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. The passage of the resolution was an- nounced from the chair. Mr. Benton rose, and said that nothing now remained hut to execute the order of the senate, wliich he moved be done forthwith. It was ordered accordingly. The secretary thereupon pro- duced the original manuscrijit journal of the senate, and opening at the page which contained the condemnatory sentence of March twenty-eighth, 1834, proceeded in open senate to draw a square of broad black lines around the sentence, and to write across its face in strong letters these words : "Expunged by order of the sex- ate, THIS 16th day of March, 1837." Up to this moment, the crowd in the great circular gallery, looking down upon the senate, though sullen and menacing in their looks, had made no manifestation of feeling. Things were in this state when the secretary of the senate began to per- form the expunging process. Instantly a storm of hisses, groans, and vociferations arose from the left wing of the gallerj', over the head of Mr. Benton. Anticipat- ing the possibility of violence, some of the senator's friends had gone out and brought arms into the hall. No use, however, was made of them, the mob being intimidated bj' one of the ringleaders being seized by the sergeant-at-arms and brought to the bar of the senate ; and the expunging process was performed in quiet. The gratification of General Jackson was ex- treme. He gave a grand dinner to the expungers and their wives ; being, how- ever, too weak to sit at the table, he only met the company, placed the ' head ex- punger' in the chair, and withdrew to his sick chamber. That expurgation ( re- marks Mr. Benton,) was the crowning glory of Jackson's civil, as New Orleans had been of his military, life. XXXIII. MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS ENCOMPASSING THE WHOLE FIRMAMENT TO ITS FARTHEST BOUNDS.— 1837. A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent Auroral Glories Span the Hemisphere — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Kemarkable Duration and Aspects. — Intensely Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumination — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermil- ion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Produced by the Scene. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Stream- ers in All Directions. — Pure White and Brilliant Colors. — Contrast of the Glowing Tints. — Wide Fields of Rainbow Hues. — Radiant Beauty Heaven-Wide — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfec- tion of the Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. — Accounts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display. " Depth, height, breadth. Arel^tin their extrt-mee; and where tn count The thick-Bnwn elone« in these tieida of fire. Perhaps a ssraph'it computution fui's." 'EARS of observation, covering many cen- turies, and embracing all zones and lati- tudes, give no record of any display of auroral glories equal, in sublimity, mag- nificence, and extent, to the aurora borealis of November fourteenth, 1837. Of the various accounts of this phenomenon, as furnished by observers in different parts of the land, the fol- lowing will suffice to show its marvelous beauty SINGULAR FORM OF AURORAL ARCH. aud graudeur, — remarkable for its amplitude, its duration, its intense luminosity, and the brilliancy of its colors. Scientific observations of the phenomenon were made by Professors Barnard, Herrick, Twining, Joslin, Silli- man, Gibbs, Henry, Dewey, Redfield, and others, and these were republished in all parts of Europe, attracting universal attention. The city of New Haven had been visited, during the day of the fourteenth, with a moderate storm of snow, which began to subside between the hours of five and six in the evening. The heavens continued, however, to be more or less obscured by clouds during the entire evening ; on which account, the splendors of the aurora, as they man- ifested themselves to observers more favorably situated, were here in a great degree concealed. The veil of snow-clouds, which, at sunset, and for some time afterward, covered the sky, was nevertheless exceedingly thin ; and it was through this, and ev«a ro AURORA BOREALIS. through the falling snow itself, that the first visible indications of the presence of an aurora were discovered. Though the exact time at which the phenomenon com- menced could not be known, it had doubt- less been in progress for awhile, before the intensity of the light became suiScient to penetrate the screen. The first evidence of its existence consisted in a strong rosy illumination of the entire arch of the heavens. Of this appearance, Professor Olmstead, then of New Haven, says : The snow, which at sunset had covered the earth and all things near it, with a mantle of the purest white, closed, early in the evening, with a most curious and beautiful pageant. About six o'clock, while the sky was yet thick with falling snow, all things sud- denly appeared as if dyed in hlood. The entire atmosphere, the surface of the earth, the trees, the tops of the houses, and, in short, the whole face of nature, were tinged with the same scarlet hue. The alarm of fire was given, and the vigilant firemen were seen parading the streets in their ghostly uniform, which, assuming the general tint, seemed in singular keeping with the phenomenon. The light was most intense in the north-west and north- east. At short intervals it alternately increased and diminished in brightness, until, at half-past six, only a slight tinge of red remained on the sky. On account of the light being thus transmitted through the snowy medium and a thin veil of clouds, the aurora borealis was diffused like the light of an astral lamp, covered with a red shade of ground glass. That the stratum of clouds was very thin, was inferred from the fact, that, before half- past six, a few stars were discernible as when seen through a fog ; and such was the appearance of the moon, which rose about the same time. Within ten minutes from the time the heavens began to assume their fiery appearance, the whole clouded hemisphere shone with that marvelously brilliant light, which, reflected in rosy tints by the snow on the ground, produced a scene indescribably gorgeous. To some observers, the auroral flush seemed to over- spread all j)arts of the sky almost simul- taneously. East of New Haven, the storm was more protracted. At New London, the snow was falling copiously, fi,nd continued so, unabatedly, during the whole evening. But, notwithstanding the storm, the heav- ens seemed as if they were on fire, — a lurid light on all sides, from the zenith to the horizon, casting a most vulcanean hue on the fallen snow. The light seemed the same in every portion of the firmament, but without any apparent cause. In the city of New York, the display, as witnessed from an eminence which com- manded an unobstructed view of the hori- zon in every direction, was, in the latter part of the evening, magnificent beyond description. At about a quarter before six, the attention of observers was at- tracted by a most unusual appearance of the heavens. The sky was whollj^ over- cast, as in New Haven, at the same hour; though the cloud was not sufficiently dense, absolutely to obscure all the stars, of which quite a number were seen from time to time, faintly glimmering through. At the time of the first observation, the whole heaven was suffused with a lovely carnation, brightest, apparentlj', at the commencement in the zenith, but soon afterward rather toward the north-east. This tint, reflected on the snow, clothed all nature with a red-tinted garniture, of supernal beauty. It gradually faded, though at the end of an hour it was still slightly perceptible. The sky then rap- idly cleared, and all traces of the aurora passer' away. Bu it about half-past seven, the north and east being still overcast, and some stratified clouds extending themselves along the horizon around toward the west, a brightness began to appear in the north- west, which, in a very short time, extended itself upward forty-five degrees, in a col- umn of diffused light, quite broad at the base, and tapering to a point. This col- umn moved very slowly southward, and at length became divided into two of similar AUEORA BOREALIS. 271 1L4.GNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS OF NOVEMBER 13 AND 14, 1837. character. But in the meantime, in all the north, and especially in the north-west, numerous streamers began to make their appearance. They became faintly red at the height of about thirty degrees, and the redness of the whole blended itself into one general cloud, while the columns continued distinct and white below. The changes were rapid, but the red tint covered the heavens nearly to the zenith for a long time. The moon, emerging from the clouds, a little before eight, detracted from the brightness of the display. The whole subsided, or nearly so, shortly after eight, and observations were discontinued. A few minutes before nine, however, the community was summoned to witness a new exhibition of auroral wonders, the lustrous grandeur of which no tongue could tell, nor pen portray. The heavens were at this time wholly unclouded, with the exception of a single very small and faint cirrus high in the north-west. Innumer- uble bright arches shot up from the whole northern semi-circle of the horizon, and from even farther south, all converging to the zenith with great rapidity. Their upper extremities were of the most bril- liant scarlet, while below they were ex- ceedingly white. At the formation of the corona, the appearance of the columns below, which were very numerous and bright, resembled that of bright cotton of long fiber, drawn out at full length. The intermingled hues afforded each other a mutual strong relief, and exhibited the most dazzling contrasts ever beheld. The stellar form was wonderfully perfect and regular. Toward the west, there was a sector of more than twenty degrees of unmingled scarlet, superlatively beautiful. The duration of this display was quite remarkable, ^or three-quarters of an hour after its formation, which took place about nine o'clock, the corona continued, with variable brightness, to maintain its position a little to the south of the zenith. At about half-past nine, the northern col- umns had become disconnected from it, and had subsided very low, the heavens being clear between. But long before this, and, indeed, within a few minutes after nine, the south was as completely filled with corresponding columns as the north. For a time, therefore, tlie earth was conijiletely ouerarchtid by a perfect canopj 272 AURORA BOREALIS. of glory! The southern columns, which seemed to proceed downward from the corona, rested on an arcli of diffused light, extending in a great circle from east to west, or nearly so, and being about twenty degrees, or a little more, above the hori- zon, in the center. All below the arch was of the strange darkness so usual at such times in the north. The southern columns were at no time so bright as the northern, but they maintained their posi- tion, after these last had retired, — extend- ing still from the corona to the arch which formed their base. The appearance was at this time that of an aurora australis, and this continued for more than a quarter of an hour. Streamers, for a while, con- tinued to shoot up irregularly in the north, but they did not again reach the zenith. By half-past ten, all evidence of the phe- nomenon disappeared from the heavens, and the hosts of charmed observers reluc- tantly abandoned their watch. In the western part of New York state, the exhibition was most superb, as seen and described at various points of observa- tion. In Buffalo and neighborhood, the aurora was perceived at its first approacli. At about quarter-past five o'clock, the heavens being clear in the north and for fifty degrees both east and west of that point, an unusual ruddy appearance was noticed. This soon faded, leaving barely a perceptible tinge ; and instantly, when nearl}- all color had disappeared elsewhere, a space of some fifteen degrees in diame- ter, immediately west of Cassiopeia and Andromeda, and north of Pegasus, was lighted up with red, of a particularly deep hue. This was entirelj- disconnected, on ever}' side, from any auroral light or appearance whatever, and, from its center, pencils of white radiated to the periphery on every side. After this appearance had continued some five minutes, the white lines disaj)- peared, and the whole space in question assumed a uniform red color, which was almost instantly thereafter extended, in an arch of the same width, through the zenith, and down to the horizon about sixty degrees west of north. On the east, this light did not extend itself; and, during the whole time, the clear space existing in the north retained its usual color and appearance. Deep red streams, penciled with white, then began to appear and fade in the north, but without the tremulous motion of ' merry dancers.' Those in the north-east maintained their brightness longest. At about fifteen minutes before six o'clock, the clouds had become more dense and dark, though still in detached masses, particularly throughout that portion of the heavens which had been occupied by the red arch above mentioned, and these isolated clouds now assumed an appearance at once novel and striking. Those west of the zenith, and Ij'ing within the track of the crimson arch already described, suddenly exhibited the most vivid red along their entire southern borders ; while the like clouds east of the zenith, and fol- lowing the same track, and prolonging it quite down to the eastern horizon, assumed the same vivid color upon their northern borders ; no other portion, however, of these clouds, exhibited any of the charac- teristics of auroral light. South of this line, there was at no time anj' auroral light whatever; and at the moment in question, there was very little in an}- other parts of the heavens, save on the borders of these clouds. At nine minutes before six, the red edgings of these clouds began to fade, and immediately a wide space in the north-east, that was still free from clouds, was most brilliantly lighted up. The color was of the same deep red, but it did not extend down to the horizon ; and this had scarcely continued four minutes, when the whole region north of the zenith, to witliin about eight degrees of the hori- zon, was again reddened and glowing — while, beyond these limits, either north or south, no vestige of the aurora was visible. Just two minutes before six, the moon appeared above the horizon, and as it was only two days past the full, its beams soon surpassed in brightness those of the AURORA BOREALIS. 273 In Hudson, Ohio, at the "Western Reserve College, some of the earlier dis- plays of the phenomenon were noticed by Professor Loomis. This was some five minutes after six, when he observed that a small pile of light, of a reddish hue, lay upon the horizon, in a direction a little north of north-west, and a similar pile in the east of north-east. Between these there was a low faint cloud, bounded by a somewhat ill-defined arch, rising in its center about ten degrees from the horizon. Above this arch, a diffused light streamed upward toward the zenith, in one or two places, being somewhat more condensed, forming beams. This light increased rapidly in brightness ; it became of a more decided crimson color, extended up to the zenith, and, at the same time, light began to shoot up from several points in the east, and somewhat south of east. At a quarter- past six, meantime, a pretty regular arch was formed, extending from the above- mentioned pile of light in the north-west. This arch was rather irregular in its out- line, and had a slightly crimson color. In about five minutes, another arch of white light partially formed in the southern sky, and had nearly the same direction with the preceding ; but this arch was never complete, and soon vanished entirely. The great arch, however, before described, brightened up again in very nearly the same position as previously. About half- past eight, light of a crimson color was observed to shoot from the eastern horizon toward and beyond the zenith, nearly in the position of the former arch. The heavens were now nearly covered with thin cirro-cumulus clouds, and the contrast of the ordinary clouds with this crimson auroral light, produced a very singular effect. The sky remained cloudy during the night. Strange though it may appear, this beautiful and magnificent phenomeaon was visible during nearly the whole night in the neighborhood of St. Louis, Mo., and was particularly brilliant between the hours of twelve and one, when the moon was near its zenith. Time in St. Louis 18 being rather more than one hour earlier than in New York, this midnight display was contemporaneous with the latest return of the aurora in the longitude of New York ; but this, which was the least energetic in the latter, appears there to have been the most remarkable. The commencement of the phenomenon in Philadelphia was similar to that ob- served at New York. At a later period, the lights were again visible, and, between nine and ten o'clock, exceeded in extent and brilliancj', anything of the kind ever before witnessed in that region. A broad field of crimson flame, stretching from nearly a western course, and reaching the eastern hemisphere, encompassed the heavens with a brilliant glory, of indescrib- able beauty and magnificence, hanging, as it were, suspended from the blue rault above, like an immense curtain over the earth — while, from almost every point of the compass, shot up rays of rich and gor- geous light, spreading and intermingling with a wavy tremulous motion, and exhib- iting every hue of the clearest rainbow. The richness, variety, and delicacy of the colors, were surpi'isingly beautiful, as was their prismatic brilliancy. The sky itself was remarkably clear and cloudless — and through the celestial phenomena, a full moon and innumerable stars were, all the while, distinctly visible. In Marj-land, according to the observa- tions made at Emmettsburg, the first indi- cation of the aurora's approach was given as soon as it became dark, by the singular redness of the cumulo-stratus clouds, now entirely covering the sky. Those in the north, south, east and west, all partook of the redness, the reflection from them being strong enough to give a red tinge to the snow. The heaviest clouds retained their dark color in the center, but they were bordered with red. During the hour in which this state of things existed, there were no streamers, streaks of light, nor merry dancers. Indeed, where the sky could be seen between the clouds, there were no signs of an aurora, but rather a deep green sky. By seven, the moon 274 AUKORA BOREALIS. VIEW OF THE AURORA BOREALIS IN ITS EAHI.V STACKS being nsen, and the clouds having van- Lshed, notliiiig remained to show tliat there had been any unusual occurrence. A little after nine, however, the sky being per- fectly clear, an aurora suddenly sprang up, which, for niagnificejice, surpassed any- thing of the kind ever before witnessed in that section. The streamers from the east, west, and north, converged a few degrees south of the zenith, forming a beautiful auroral crown, red as scarlet, but intermingled with streaks of pale light. There were no merry dancers, but all the other appearances usually witnessed on such occasions were noticed. In little more than half an hour, the grand display was over, for the most part. Observers at Annapolis, Md., describe the aurora there as coming on in waves, ■■4 about a quarter before six, and return- ing at seven, at eight, and at nine. The first arch was formed suddenly, and became vertical in a very few minutes, from the first appearance of the columns at the north-west and south-east. It was crim- son, traversed by white pencils. The color of the light at eight o'clock was not red, but dusk}', and formed from the north- west point to the pole star, a broad column, which kept its position for half an hour. A succession of fire cirrus clouds floated off from the lower parts of the column to the south. At nine o'clock, the recurrence of the crimson light was more in patches, and of intense brightness, accompanied by cirro-cumulus clouds, which were formed sudden]}' over the whole sk}', and were borne swiftl}' to the east by the wind. Near Alexandria, Va., the early dis- pla}', as seen from east south-east to west south-west, exhibited a rich orange red color, extending even to the zenith, and covering all the heavens north of these points. The return occurred toward nine o'clock, in a brilliant and fiery form. The aj)pearance of the aurora in South Carolina commenced about six o'clock, in the shape of a bank o- store-house of auro- ral vapor towards the north. When first observed, a space of about fifteen degrees above the horizon was strongly marked by a pale white light, above which the crim- son hue peculiar to this phenomenon began to be distinctly visible. At this time, the greatest degree of brightness was to the east of north, assuming no \ery definite AUROEA BOEEALIS. 275 form, but extending about eight or ten degrees east, and reaching in height to the constellation of Cassiopeia's chair, the lower portion of which was enveloped in its reddening glow. The action then sub- sided ; but at about eight o'clock, another bright crimson column ascended due north, attaining an altitude some degrees greater than that of the polar star, and maintaining its place about half an hour. After this had faded away, no return was observed until half-past nine, when there was per- ceived another broad arch of crimson light, ascending several degrees to the west of north. In certain sections of Georgia, the phe- nomenon commenced a little after dark. The sky a little to the north of the star Capella, began to appear luminous, and a luminous arch was soon formed, of about six or eight degrees in breadth, and extending over to the north-western hori- zon, having the pole star in its highest point. Soon after the arch was formed, that part of it in the north-east horizon became much brighter, and somewhat broader than the rest; and this luminous portion gradually rose, and passed on in the arch, its densest part culminating a little below the north star. It continued its motion to the western horizon. An hour and a half was occupied by the passage of the luminous part of the arch just described. It became somewhat fainter, after it had passed the meridian, and it gradually was lost to sight, begin- ning first to disappear in the east, so that not a vestige remained at nine o'clock, three hours from its first appearance. The color of the arch was that of light scarlet, the most luminous part being a little darker, and much more intense. Its form was that of a semi-circle, having for its base about sixty degrees of the horizon. It differed from the aurora in its regular outline, as well as its regular motion from east to west, and was witnessed with admir- ation and astonishment. So extensive was this magnificent celes- tial phenomenon, that it exhibited its won- derful splendors, contemporaneously, to the inhabitants of Europe and America, though the presence of clouds greatly interfered witli the attractiveness and grandeur of the exhibition in the former. At half-past twelve, however, — says one of the observers in England, — a patch of the most intense blood-red colors ever seen, was visible, free from the interposition of clouds. The whole of the sky had an awful appearance ; for the tinge of red which pervaded the whole expanse, assumed, in man^- points, from the depth of colors above, and the density of the clouds below, the dark copper tint, which is seen on the disk of the moon during a lunar eclipse. It was such a sight as fills the mind with wonder and awe ; and, in America at least, was the most marvelous of the kind ever known ; though that of August and September, 1859, proved but little inferior in some respects. In north- ern Europe, this phenomenon is quite frequent, and Mr. Bayard Taylor describes one of rare beauty which he there wit- nessed. XXXIV. BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMA- TION.— 1840. Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence, and Wonderful History of the MoTement. — Enthusiasm Attending the " Wasliingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and Sway Multitudes by their Eloquence — Father JIathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Career of Hawkins. Mitchell, Gough, Dow, and Others. — First Temperance Society in the United States. — Singular Terms of Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times — Unrestrained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire foi Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings, Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional t)rganizatioD. — Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon Giles's Distillery. — " My Mother's Gold Ring " — Rise of " W'asliingtonianisra." — Six Reformed Drunkards. — Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc. — Music, Banners and Badges — The Country All Ablaze — An " Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the Pledge — Conflict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey Jug. — Farragut's Substitute for Grog. *' I«hall not close this letter without ezhortiag you to refViUn *rom spirituous liquors; they will prove your ruin if you do not. Consider bow httle a drunkeo man dlffera from a beast; the latter is not eudowed with reason, the former deprives himself of iL"— 0»>E8AI. Wasa- lJIOTU.\. . ERHAPS it would be difficult to name the precise date ■when active public efforts were initiated in the United States to check the widespread evil of intemperance. It is not to be doubted, however, that the writings of that eminent man of science, Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia, especially his " Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits upon the Human Body and Mind," issued as early as 1804, did much to awaken an interest in the subject, on the part of the community. But not until 1808, was there any movement of an associated character, for public or indi- vidual abandonment of the use of intoxicating drinks. But it sounds somewhat strangely, in these later da3-s of radical reform, that the initial movement referred to, and which was entitled " The Temperate Society of Moreau and Northumberland," (towns in the county of Saratoga, N. Y.) originated by Billy Clarke, should be based upon regulations like the following : — "No member shall be intoxicated, under penalty of fifty cents. No member shall drink rum, gin, whiskey, wine, or any distilled spirits, or compositions of the same, or any of them, except by the advice of a physician, or in case of actual disease (also excepting wine at public dinners), under penal tj- of twenty-five cents ; provided thai this article shall not iufringe on anj' religious ordinance. No member shall offer any of said liquors to any other member, or urge any other person to drink thereof, under penalty of twenty-five cents for each offense." EFFECT OF REFORMATION. THE TEMPERANCE EEFORMATIOK 27' But the day of small beginnings, in a humane cause, is never to be despised, and, in a few years, the reform had enlisted the earnest co-operation of law- yers, divines, and other eminent men, such as Carey, Palfrey, Humphrey, Dexter, Marsh, Edwards, Beecher, Porter, Leavitt, Hewit, Day, and Kittredge. In 1813, there was formed the Massachusetts Soci- ety for the Suppression of Intemperance ; one in Connecticut, in 1829 ; and, in 1826, the American Temperance Union. The statistics of this period present the calcu- lation, that, out of a white population of ten millions, between three and four mil- lions were habitual spirit-drinkers, of whom three hundred and seventj'-five thousand drank daily on an average three gills of ardent spirits, while an equal number con- sumed more than twice that quantity, and of course were drunkards. Making due allowance for the imperfectness of such statistical data, it was admitted by all, that the intemperate use of spirituous liq- uors, in every part of the laud, had become alarmingly prevalent. The excellent resume of this movement, as given by Dr. Emerson Davis, himself one of its ablest and most efficient sup- porters, states that at this time the reform seemed to be simultaneous through the country. At the beginning of 1828, the custom, hitherto so general, of treating visitors with wine, cordials, and brandy, began to disappear. The sideboards of the rich and influential, which from time immemorial had groaned under a load of decanters, were relieved of their burdens, and a very great change in the customs of society began to be apparent. At the close of 1828, the number of temperance societies reported in the temperance jour- nals was two hundred and twenty-five. At the close of 1829, there were more than one thousand such societies, embrac- ing more than one hundred thousand members, pledged to total abstinence ; fifty distilleries had stopped, four hun- dred merchants had abandoned the traffic, and twelve hundred drunkards had been reclaimed. On the first of May, 1831, it appeared that more than three hundred thousand persons had signed the pledge, and not less than fifty thousand were sup- posed to have been saved from a drunkard's grave. Even at Washington, a congres- sional temperance society was organized, under the auspices of such men as Cass, Grundy, Bates, Wayne, Post, Durbin, and others ; and some of the most brilliant public men signed the pledge. A very common objection (adds Dr. Davis), made by many of the poor, was, that they could not afford to drink wine, and, therefore, that signing the pledge operated unequally; it took from them the use of .all stimulants but cider and beer, but it left to the rich the use of wine, which was often about as strong as Cognac brandy. In order to obviate this objec- tion, it was found necessary to introduce a new pledge, prohibiting the use, not only of distilled, but of fermented, liquors. The first society that adopted this pledge was the Eighth Ward Branch of the New York City Temperance Society. This was called the tee-total pledge, — a name first given to it in England, and which had its origin in the prolonged and inco- herent stuttering, by one who was taking the pledge, at the first letter in the word ' ^otal.' This tee-total pledge was intro- duced into this country in 1834, and in a short time many societies were formed on that principle. Many, however, who signed the old pledge, refused to sign the new ; and thus there was an apparent fall- ing off in the number of the members of temperance organizations. Some, too, who had delivered public addresses, and stood foremost in the ranks of reformers, were thrown into the background, and became silent spectators of passing events. Among the prominent promoters of the cause, appear the names of Delavan, Nor- ton, Keener, Gerritt Smith, Moses Grant, Loyd, Collins, Briggs, Walworth, Grundy, Hunt. Stewart, and Hoar, as speakers. Mr. L. M. Sargent contributed powerfully to the reform, by his unrivaled temper- ance talcs, including that widely circulated and admired production, "Mi/ Mother's 278 THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. Gold Ring." Pierpont inspired thousands by his quaint and thrilling poems ; and the letters, essays, and other writings, of such men as Woodward, Warren, Baird, Beman, Chapin, Kirk, Channing, and Barnes, added greatly to the impression upon the public mind. Among the inci- dents of tills period, perhaps none created greater interest and excitement through- out the whole land, than the assault, prose- cution, and imprisonment, of Rev. George B. Cheever, of Salem, Mass., subsequently of New York. About the beginning of 18.35, he published in a Salem newspaper, a dream, descriptive of " Deacon Giles's Distillery," in which the liquors were graphically characterized as containing demons in an inferno. Deacon Giles was a veritable person, and the publication resulted in a violent assault ujson Mr. Cheever, one night, by the foreman of the distillery, who inflicted upon the unarmed clergyman a number of severe blows with a raw hide, to which Mr. Cheever made no resistance. Mr. Cheever was also prose- cuted for libel, and sentenced to thirty days' imprisonment. He was regarded as a martyr to the cause of temperance, and his case helped rather than checked the progress of the reform. He continued to do valiant service, as before, with his pen and voice, ranking, in this respect, with such men as Clarke, Grimke, Fisk, Coffin, AVoods, Williams, Merrill, Sewall, Pond, Thurston, Reese, Van Loon, Jewett, Buck- ingham. But a most stirring and enthusiastic impetus was yet to be given to the temper- ance movement, and that through the liumblest personal instrumentality. This was the organization of the Washington Temperance Society, in Baltimore, in the month of April, 1840 ; its most roniarka- l)le convert being Mr. John K. W. Haw- kins, who joined the society the following June. It appears that six individuals, who were in the habit of associating together, were seated, as usual, on Friday evening, April 2, 1840, in Chase's tavern, in Lib- erty street, Baltimore, where they were accustomed to meet almost every evening, for the purpose of enjoying mutually all the benefits and conveniences which that establishment and each other's society could possibly afford. These were Wil- liam K. Mitchell, tailor ; John F. Hoss, carpenter ; David Anderson, blacksmith ; George Steers, blacksmith ; James McCur- ley, coach-maker; and Archibald Camp- bell, silver-plater. A clergyman who was preaching in the city at that time, had given public notice that on that evening he would deliver a discourse on the sub- ject of temperance. Upon this lecture, the conversation of the six comrades pres- ently turned ; whereupon it was agreed that four of them should go and hear it, and report accordingly. So, after the ser- mon, they returned and conversed on its merits for some time ; when one of the company remarked, ' After all, temperance is a good thing.' ' Oh,' said the host, 'they're all a parcel of hypocrites.' 'Oh, j-es,' replied McCurley, ' I'll be bound for you; it's your interest to cry them down, anj-how.' '/ tell you ivhut, hoijs, let's form a society, and make Bill Mitchell president.' ' Agreed,' cried they. The idea seemed to take wonderfully, and the more they talked and laughed over the idea, the more were they pleased with it. After parting that night, they did not all meet again until Sunday, when they took a stroll, and, between walking and treating, they managed to arrange the whole matter to their entire satisfaction. It was agreed that one of them should draw up a pledge, and that the whole party should sign it the next day. Accord- ingly, on Monday morning, Mitchell wrote the following pledge: 'We whose names are annexed, desirous of forming a society for our mutual benefit, and to guard against a pernicious practice, which is injurious to our health, standing, and fam- ilies, do pledge ourselves as gentlemen, that we will not drink any spirituous or malt liquors, wine, or cider.' He went with this, at .about nine o'clock, to Anderson's house, and found him still in bed, sick from the effects of his Sunday THE TEMPERAJSrCE EEFORMATION. 279 adventures. He arose, however, dressed himself, and, after liearing the ph^dge read, vj'ent down to his shop with liis friend for pen and ink, and there did himself the honor of being the first man to sign. After obtaining the names of the remain- ing four, the wortliy president iinished this noble achievement by adding his own. On the evening of that day, they met at the residence of one of their number and duly formed themselves into a society, with the usual officers. Little did these six associates know of the fame and achieve- ments thej' were moulding ! Having thus got under way, they next turned their attention to obtaining mem- bers and devising means to defray the expenses of their meetings ; it was there- fore agreed that each man should bring a man, and every one should pay twenty-five cents upon becoming a member, and twelve and a half cents, monthly, there- after. The next debate was as to the name they should give to their society. A num- ber were proposed, among them that of Jefferson ; when it was finally agreed that the president and secretary should be a committee to draft a constitution, and select a name. This they did, giving to the association the name of the "Wash- ington Temperance Society," in honor of the Father of his Country, and were consequently known as Washlngtonians. It is a little singular, however, that this name should have been chosen, for, though Washington was one of the brightest ' examples of temperate eating and drinking, he habitually used liquor or wine himself, an pro^nded it for his guests and laborers. The following curious document is in point : " Articles of Agree- ment made this twelfth day of April, Anno Domini, one thousand ? seven hundred and eighty-seven, by and between George Washington, Esq., of the Parish of Truro, in the County of Fairfax, State of Vir- ginia, on the one part, and Philip Bater, Gardener, on the other. Witness, that the said Philij) Bater, for and in consideration of the covenants herein hereafter mentioned, doth promise and agree to serve the said George Wash- ington for the term of one year, as a Gardener, and that he will, during said time, conduct himself soberly, diligently and honestly — that ho will faithfully and industriously perform all and every part of his duty as a gardener, to the best of liis knowledge and abilities, and that lie will not, at any time suffer himself to be dis- guised with liquor, excejit on the times hereafter mentioned. In consideration of these things being well and truly per- formed on the part of the said Phii^p Bater, the said George Washington doth agree to allow him (the said Pliilip) the same kind and quantity of provisions as he has heretofore had ; and likewise, annually, a decent suit of clothes, befitting a man in his station ; to consist of a coat, vest and breeches ; — a working-jacket, and breeches of home-spun besides ; two white shirts ; three checked do ; two linnen pocket-hand- kerchiefs, two pair linnen overalls ; — as SIGNIHO THE PLEDGE. 280 THE TEMPERAJSrCE REFOEMATION. many pair of shoes as are actually neces- sary for him ; — four dollars at Christmas, with which he may he drunk four days and four nights ; tivo dollars at Easter to effect the same purpose ; two dollars at Whitsuntide, to be drunk two days; — a dram in the inorning and a Drink of Grog at Dinner at noon.'" The above is signed by the two con- tracting parties, and witnessed by George A. Washington and Tobias Lear. In unother instance, Washington's fine in- stincts and principles are admirably dis- played : " I shall not close this letter," writes Washington to one of his overseers, "without exhorting you to refrain from spirituous liquors; they will prove your ruin if j-ou do not. Consider how little a dr-'.nken man differs from a beast ; the iatter is not endowed with reason, the former deprives himself of it ; and when that is the case, acts like a brute, annoy- ing and disturbing every one around him ; nor is this all, nor, as it respects himself, the worst of it. By degrees it renders a person feeble, and not only unable to serve others, but to help himself; and being an act of his own, he falls from a state of usefulness into contempt, and at length suffers, if not perishes, in penury and want. Don't let this be your case. Shew yourself more of a man and a Chris- ian than to yield to so intolerable a vice, which cannot, I am certain, (to the great- est lover of liquor,) give more pleasure to sip in the poison, (for it is no better,) than the consequence of it in bad behavior at the moment, and the more serious evils produced bj' it afterwards must give pain." Great and wonderful were the results destined to flow from the ' Washington Temperance Society,' thus started by those six inebriates in the city of Baltimore. At their second meeting, they had two new members ; but, in a comparatively short time, the society increased so much that it became a question how they could employ their time so as to make their meetings interesting. The president there- upon suggested that each member should rise in his place and give his experience ; and, by way of commencement, he arose and told what he had passed through in the last fifteen j-ears, and the advantages he had derived from signing the total- abstinence pledge. This was the origin ot that most popular and efficient method which the Washington Society and all its auxiliaries adopted, for giving interest and effect to their gatherings. Signers were thus obtained, and the attention ot the public was attracted, so that a class was reached which otherwise might not have been affected bj^ the labors of those other good men who had for so many years been engaged in promoting temper- ance in a different wa}-. By Christmas, in 1840, the reform had become so popular, that thousands had flocked to its standard, and enrolled them- selves as the friends of temperance. The wave had swept onward, and tidings of the great reformation reached distant cities. On invitation from New York, for a dele- gation of five men to hold experience meetings twice every day for one week, in that citj', Messrs. Hawkins, Pollard, Shaw, Casey, and Mitchell, proceeded to that place, and there held the first Washing- tonian missionary temperance meeting ever known in the United States. It was a type of that success which was to accompany this new system in behalf of temperance, for, during each of the speeches, multitudes came forward and signed the pledge, and, taken altogether, such a scene had never before been wit- nessed in New York. But the most powerful among all the advocates of Washingtonian reform was Mr. Hawkins, who rose from the very gut- ter of drunkenness to the rostrum of im- passioned eloquence in advocacy of reform, and with prodigious success. The pecu- liar circumstances of his history had an almost overpowering effect on his own feelings, whenever he spoke, and his au- diences listened now breathlessly, and anon with uncontrollable demonstrations of enthusiasm. He was a man of plain, good common sense, with a peculiar sin- THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. 281 cerity about him, and an easy way of working up his hearers to a state of sym- pathy with him. He would at one time assume the melting mood, and picture the scenes of a drunkard's home — and that home his own — and the fountains of. gen- erous feelings, in many hearts, gushed forth in tears ; and again, in a moment, as he related some ludicrous story, those tearful eyes glistened with delight, sighs changed to hearty shouts, and long faces were convulsed with broad grins and glorious smiles. Drunkards and outcasts of the worst type, that swarm in the fes- tering purlieus and penetralia of New York, were reclaimed, and such was the over- whelming power of the movement, that, finall}', immense meetings were held in the Park. In Boston, too, the old Cradle of Liberty rocked with tumultuous enthusi- asm for ' independence ' from the tyrant of strong drink. Festivals, children's cold water armies, processions, banners, bands of music, songs, etc., filled the whole land with the feast of reason and the flow of soul. Statistics might be indefinitely pre- sented, showing the vast results achieved b}' this wonderful moral enginery. Up- wards of twenty-two thousand names were obtained to the pledge by Messrs. Pollard and Wright, in a lecturing tour made by them through Central New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Messrs. Vicars and Small and Smith revolutionized Ohio and the West ; Hawkins, Bishop, John- son, Hayes, and Haydock, labored from one end of the country to the other. Haw- kins alone, in less than twenty years, traveled more than two hundred thousand miles, lecturing between five and six thou- sand times. Latham, Madden, Snow, White, Cary, Leigh, Coffin, Brown, Riley, Bungaj', Copway, Zug, Drinkard, Thomp- son, are names that will ever be remem- bered, too, as powerful and successful advocates of this reform, on the rostrum ; and those of Pierpont, Burleigh, Phillips, Tappan, and others, by their stirring songs and poems. But, chief and most powerful of the many advocates of the temperance reformation, is John B. Gough, who has proved himself in this arena, a wonderful orator. His eloquence, indeed, was of that electric quality which, striking a chord in every heart and drawing tears from every eye, perfectly swayed the vast multitudes that hung upon his words wherever he went. Every city, town, and village, throughout the country, felt the impress of bis wonderful power in this great reformatory movement. Like Haw- kins, his condition was humble, but from this he had descended to the lowest depths of social and personal degradation until rescued b}^ the interposition of a friendly hand. No data can adequately describe the extent and value of his labors from that time forth, for a quarter of a century and more. But a new and most interesting, as well as important chapter, in the history of temperance, is yet to be mentioned, namely^ the visit of Father Mathew, the world- renowned 'Apostle of Temperance' in Ireland, to this countrj', in 1849. For ten years previously, he labored as a tem- perance agitator and reformer in Ireland and England. In five months, he obtained 150,000 converts in Cork ; and in Galway, he administered the pledge to no less than 100,000 in tvFO days ! On his landing at New York city, the civil authorities ac- corded him the honor of a public recep- tion, — certainly well deserved, by one .vho had been the instrument, under divine guidance, of reclaiming 6,000,000 of his fellow-creatures. He visited the principal cities, north and south, and everywhere a hearty welcome was extended to him from all classes. He remained several da3's in Washington, where he was entertained at a grand dinner by the president of the United States, and received many dis- tinguishing marks of esteem from gentle- men highest in the offices of the govern- ment. He was honored, also, with a seat on the floor of the house of representa- tives, and within the bar of the United States senate. At Philadelphin, he re- ceived his welcome in Independence Hall ; and at Boston, the doors of Faneuil Hall 282 THE TEMPERAJSTCE REFORMATIOK DI3T1KGUI3HED TEMPEKA.N'CE ADVOCATES. THE TEMPERANCE EEFOEMATION. 283 opened to him on golden liiiiges of accla- mation, and where he administered the pledge to upwards of four thousand per- sons the first day. His method of admin- istering the pledge was somewhat novel, though at the same time quite affecting. The converts knelt in a semi-circle around him, and repeated the following words : ' I promise, with divine assistance, to abstain from all intoxicating liquors, cor- dials, cider and fruit liquors, and to pre- vent, as much as possible, intemperance in others, by advice and example.' To this, Father Mathevv's response was, ' May God bless you, my childi'en. May he give you grace and strength to keep the pledge.' He then went to each indi- vidual and marked them with the sign of the cross ; but this latter ceremony, and the kneeling, were dispensed with in the case of Protestants. In this way, the venerable and devoted man traveled over almost the entire country, zealously ad- vocating his great principles, and xipwards of six hundred thousand persons enrolled themselves under his banner of total abstinence. Upon descending the Missis- sippi, be administered in one of the towns situated on its banks, the pledge to seven hundred persons. He ascended it, after an interval of some months, and stopping at the same town, he had the gratification to find that among the converts there were but three instances of relapse. Though not possessed of the oratorical graces of eloquence, like those of Gough, he knew how to present truth with such force and sincerity, as to win almost irresistibly upon all hearers. The following anecdote will illustrate his peculiar forte : 'Did you see Father Mathew lately?' said one friend to another, whom he hai> pened to meet. ' I did,' was the reply. 'And I'll engage he made you take the pledge ! ' 'He did, indeed. But did j/nu see him lately?' 'To be sure I did.' ' And did he make you take it too ? ' ' That he did ! ' ' There's no escaping him ; but I am not sorry for it.' ' No, nor I neither.' Personally, Father !Mathew was a little above the ordinary stature, with a full and well-proportioned figure, dark hair, soft blue eyes, ruddy and healthy com- plexion. Though characterized by periods of prosperity and declension, the temperance cause has proved itself ineradicable, even under circumstances seemingly the most untoward. Perhaps the greatest struggle through which it has passed, in later years, has been that which involved the enact- ment of state prohibitory laws, which visited stringent penalties upon those who sold spirituous liquors. The'name of Neal Dow, the author and advocate of this kind of legislation, the discussion attending which has been one of the most important and exciting during the century, will for- ever be identified with the history of the American temperance reformation, as will also the names of Greeley and Miner, dis- tinguished champions of the same prin- ciple. It would be an easy task to fill a whole volume with distinguished testimonies to the value of temperance. As this, how- ever, would here be impossible, a few pleasant illustrative incidents will suffice the purpose. Towards the close of the revolutionary war, an officer in the American army had occasion to transact some business with General Washington, and repaired to Philadelphia for that purpose. Before leaving, he received an invitation to dine with the general, which was accepted and, upon entering the room he found himself in the company of a large number of ladies and gentlemen. As they were mostly strangers to him, and he was of a naturally modest and unassuming disposition, he took a seat near the foot of the table, and refrained from taking an active part in the conversation. Just before the dinner was concluded, Washington politely re- quested him, by name, to drink a glass of wine with him. ' You will have the goodness to excuse me, general,' was the reply, 'as I have made it a rule not to take wine.' All eyes were instantly turned upon the 284 THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. young officer, and a murmur of contempt and surprise ran around the room. That a person should be so unsocial, not to say mean, as never to drink wine, was really too bad ; but that he should abstain from it on an occasion like that, and even when offered to him by Washington himself, was really intolerable ! Washington no- ticed at once the feelings of his guests, and promptly addressed them in his grar cious and winning way, saying: 'Gentlemen, Mr. is right. I do not wish any of my guests to partake of anything against their inclination, and I certainly do not wish them to violate any established principle in their intercourse with me. I honor Mr. for his frankness, for his consistency in thus adhering to an established rule which can never do him harm, and for the adoption of which, I have no doubt, he has good reasons.' General Taj'lor, the hero of the Mexi- can war, always gave the weight of his example in favor of temperance. A trav- eler in the west one day encountered an emigrant journeying with his family to the fertile regions beyond the Mississippi, all his worldly goods being packed on wagons, and on one load there hung a huge jug with the bottom broken out. The emigrant was asked his reason for carrying that with him. ^Vhy,' he said, 'that is my Taylor jug.' And what is a Taylor jug ? ' inquired the friend. ' Why,' said the emigrant, ' I had a son with Gen- eral Taylor's army in Mexico, and the old general always told him to carry his whis- key-jug with a hole in the bottom ; and since that, I have carried my jug as you see it, and I find it is the best invention I ever met with.' Everybody admired Admiral Farragut's heroism in clinging to the topmast to direct a battle ; but there was another particular of that contest, illustrating no less forcibly his heroic character. ' Ad- miral,' said one of his officers, the night before the battle, ' won't you consent to give Jack a glass of grog in the morning, not enough to make him drunk, but enough to make him fight cheerfully ? ' ' Well,' replied the admiral, ' I have been to sea considerably, and have seen a battle or two, but I never found that I wanted rum to enable me to do my duty. I will order two cups of coffee to each man, at two o'clock ; and, at eight o'clock, I will pipe all hands to breakfast, in Mobile bay.' And he did give Jack the coffee ; and then he went up to the mast-head, and the result is well known. These illustrations of devotedneiis to the principle of temperance in high places might be greatly multiplied. Their value to the cause can hardly be overestimated. XXXV. FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO THE UNTRACKED REGION OF THE NORTH-WEST, OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— 1842. His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in tlie Rocky Mountains, the South Pass. — Plants tlie American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He EnrichiM Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country Before Entirely Unknown. — Fremont, a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objeci.s of this Tour — Enchanting Record of Adventure. — Surveys and Researches. — Humboldt's Tribute of Admiration. — Wild Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this Vast Domain. — The Rocky Mountains : First Glimpses. — Formation of the South Pass. — " Kit Carson," the Intrepid Guide. — At the Topmost Peak, 14,000 Feet —Startling Boldness of the View.— Over- powering Quiet and Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convul- sions. — Unfurling the Flag of the Union. — Appearance of Great Salt Lake. — Eternal Snows of the Sierra Nevada. — In the San Joaquin Valley. — An Immense Circuit of Travel — Fremont, the Modern Path6nder. — Honors from His Country- men — A King's Gift and Regards. "Prominently deaervinp of distineuislied recognition ia the service rendered to ^eoiitaphicui acienre by the American explorer, Fremont." — Ki.Mi FiiEUkK.c William IV., upPbussia, to Bahun Uumooldt. VERY American reader is enchanted with the narrative of EXi'LOBiKOTUEsoitTu-wEST. thosB intrepid and heroic explorations of Fremont, "the Pathfinder," ■which, in the language of Humboldt, — himself the greatest scientific explorer and geographer the world has ever seen, — " enriched every branch of natural science, and illustrated a vast country before entirely unknown," and in appreciation of which he received from his admiring countrymen the highest tokens of honor, and, from kingly hands, acknowledgments inscribed on tablets of gold. Several exploring tours of the western portion of our continent, within the geograph- ical boundaries of the country subsequently known by the title of Oregon, took place before that which was led by the brave Fremont, but none with such rich and varied results as the latter. It being desirable for our government to become full}' acquainted with the chs.racter of the vast territory between the southern geographical boundary of the United States and the Rocky Mountains, around the head-waters of the Missouri, Fremont was appointed to superintend that exploring tour, under the direction of Colonel Abert, the chief of the topographical bureau at Washington, and by him projected and 286 FEEMONT'S EXPEDITION. planned, with the approval of Secretary Poinsett. The great object of this expe- dition was to examine and report upon the rivers and country between the frontiers of Missouri and the base of the Rocky Mountains ; and especially to examine the character, and ascertain the latitude and longitude of that ivonderful gatewatj, the South Pass, the great crossing place to these mountains on the way to Oregon. In executing liis official instructions, Fremont proceeded up the Kansas river far enough to ascertain its peculiar feat- ures, and then crossed over to the Great Platte, and pursued that river to its source in the mountains, where the Sweet AVater — a head branch of the Platte — issues from the neighborhood of the South Pass. He reached the Pass on the eighth of August, and found it to be a wide and low depression of the mountains, of very easy ascent, and where a plainly beaten wagon load leads to the Oregon through the vallej^ of Lewis's river, a fork of the Columbia. He went through the Pass, and saw the head-waters of the Colorado, of the Gulf of California; and, leaving the valleys to indulge a laudable curiosity, and to make some useful observations, Fremont, at- tended by four of his men, climbed the loftiest peak of the Eocky Mountains, until then untrodden by any known human being ; and, on the fifteenth of August, looked down upon ice and snow some thou- sand feet below, and traced in the distance the valle^-s of the rivers which, taking their rise in the same elevated ridge, flow in opposite directions to the Pacific ocean and to the Mississippi. From that ultimate point he returned by the valley of the Great Platte, following the stream in its whole course, and solving all questions in relation to its navigability, and the feat- ures of the country through which it flows. On the prairies which border the forks of the river Platte, the travelers bivou- acked in the evening, eating their meat with a good relish ; for they were all in fine health, and had ridden nearly all of a long summer's day, with a burning sun reflected from the sands. Wlien about si.rttj miles distant, the party caught the first faint glimpse of the Kocky Mountains. Though a tolerably bright day, there was a slight mist, and the snowy summit of ' Long's Peak,' showing like a small cloud near the hori- zon, was just barely discernible. There was, however, no mistake in distinguishing it, there being a perceptible difference in its appearance from the white clouds that were floating about the sky. Proceeding onward through hostile tribes of Indians, Fremont reached the first military frontier post — Fort Laramie ; departing thence, in a short time, for the bases of the " great mountains." With the change in the geological formation on leaving Fort Laramie, the whole face of the country appears entirely changed. East- ward of the meridian, the principal objects which strike the eye of the traveler are the absence of timber, and the immense exjianse of jsrairie, covered with the verd- ure of rich grasses, and highly adapted for pasturage. Wherever they are not disturbed by the vicinity of man, large herds of buffalo give animation to this country. Many sufferings were endured in reach- ing the Rocky Mountains, but the follow- ing details show that the labors of the party were amply rewarded. About six miles from their encampment brought the party to the summit of the South Pass. The ascent had been so gradual, that, with all the intimate knowledge possessed by Carson, the guide, and who had made that country his home for seventeen years, the part}' were obliged to watch very closely to find the place at which they had reached the culmin.ating point. This was between two low hills, rising on either hand fifty or sixty feet. From the broken ground where this pass commences, at the foot of the Wind River Chain, the view to the south-east is over a champaign country, broken, at the distance of nineteen miles, by the Table Rock, which, with the other isolated hills in its vicinity, seemingly stands on a comparative plain. The ' Pass' in no manner resembles the places FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 287 to which that term is commonly applied — nothing of the gorge-like character and winding ascents of the Alleghany passes in America, nor of the great St. Bernard and Simplon passes in Europe. Approach- ing from the mouth of the Sweet Water, a sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles long, conducts, by a gradual and regular ascent, to the summit, about seven thou- sand feet above the sea ; and the traveler, without being reminded of any change, by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds him- self on the waters which flow to the Pacific ocean. On this short mountain-chain are the head-waters of four great rivers of the western continent, namely, the Colorado, Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers. [ PLANTING AMKRICAN FLAR OK THE ROCKY MOOKTAIXS, BY FKEMONT. A scene of characteris- tic adventure was that of reaching the summit of these mountains. Putting hands and feet in the crev- ices between the blocks, Fremont succeeded in get- ting over it, and, on attaining the top, found his companions in a small vallej' below. Descending to them, they con- tinued climbing, and in a short time reached the crest. He sprang upon the summit, and unfurled the national flag to wave in the hreeze where never flag tvaved before. During the morning's ascent, no sign of animal life was met with, except a small sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most profound and a solitude the most terrible forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features of the jjlace. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was ab- solute, unbroken by any sound, and the solitude complete, the explorers thought themselves beyond the region of animated life ; but, while they were sitting on the rock, a solitary humble-bee came winging his flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men. It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky Mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers. The barometer stood at 18.293, the attached thermometer at 44 degrees ; giving for the elevation of this summit 13,570 feet above the sea, it may be called the highest known flight of the bee. From this pre- sumed loftiest peak of the great mountain range, — since kiiown as Fremont's Peak, — could be seen innumerable lakes and streams, the spring of the Colorado of the Gulf of California, on the one side ; on the other, was the Wind River valley, where were the heads of the Yellow Stone branch of the Missouri ; far to the north could be faintly descried the snowy heads of the Trois Tetons, where were the sources of the Missouri and Columbia rivers ; and at the southern extremity of the ridge, the peaks were plainly visible, among which were some of the springs of the Nebraska, or Platte river. The whole scene around had one main striking feature, which was that of tn-rib/e convulsion. Parallel to its length, the ridge was split into chasms and fissures ; between which rose the thin lofty walls, terminated with slender minar rets and columns. 288 FEEMONT'S EXPEDITION. Fremont's next toux- was devoted to Oregon and California. On arriving at tlie Utah lake, he had completed an immense circuit of twelve degrees diame- ter north .and south, and ten degrees east and west. They found themselves in May, 1844, on the same sheet of water which they had left in September, 1843. The Utah is the southern limb of the Great Salt Lake ; and thus they had seen this remarkable sheet of water both at its northern and southern extremity, and were able to fix its position at these two points. In this eight months circuit, the explorers found that the mountains on the Pacific slope are higher, more numerous, and more distinctly defined in their ranges and directions, than those on the Atlantic side ; and, what is contrary to the natural order of such formations, one of these ranges, which is near the coast — the Sierra Nevada and the Coast Range — presents higher elevations and peaks than any which are to be found in the Rocky Mountains them- selves. During all this circuit, the party were never out of sight of snow; and the Sierra Nevada, where thej^ crossed it, was nearly two thousand feet higher than the famous South Pass. Peaks are constantly seen which enter the region of eternal snow. Differing so much from the Atlantic side of our continent in coast, mountains, and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it in 3-et another most rare and singular feature — that of the Great Interior Basin. The structure of the country would require this formation of interior lakes, for the waters which would collect between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, not being able to cross this formidable barrier, nor to get to the Columbia or the Colorado, must naturally collect into reser- voirs, each of which would have its little system of streams and rivers to supply it. The Great Salt Lake is a formation of this kind, and quite a large one, having many streams, and one considerable river, four or five Imndred miles long, falling into it. Fremont saw this lake and river, and examined them ; he also saw the Wahsatch and Bear River mountains inclosing the watei's of the lake on the east, and consti- tute, in that quarter, the rim of the Great Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada, where the party traveled for forty-two days, they saw the line of lakes and rivers which lie at the foot of that sierra, and wliich sierra is the western rim of the basin. In going down Lewis's Fork, and the main Columbia, they crossed only inferior streams coming in from the left ; and often saw the mountains at their heads, white with snow, which divided the waters of the desert from those of the Columbia, — the range of mountains forming the rim of the basin on its north- ern side. In returning from California along the Spanish trail, as far as the head of the Santa Clara Fork of the Rio Virgen, the party crossed only small streams making their waj' south to the Colorado, or lost in sand, as the Mo-hah-ve ; while to tlie left, lofty mountains, their summits white with snow, were often visible — and which, Fremont concluded, must have turned water to the north as well as to the south, thus constituting, on this part, the southern rim of the basin. At the head of the Santa Clara Fork, and in the Vegas de Santa Clara, they crossed the ridge which parted the two systems of waters. They entered the basin at that point, and FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 289 continued for some time to travel in it, having its south-eastern rim — the Wah- satch mountain^-on the right, and cross- ing the streams which flow down into it. In this eventful exploration, all the great features of the western slope of our continent were brought to light — the Great Salt Lake, the Utah Lake, the Little Salt Lake — at all which places, then desert, the Mormons now are ; the Sierra Nevada, then solitary in the snow, now crowded with Americans, digging gold from its banks ; the beautiful valleys of the Sacra- mento and San Joaquin, then alive with wild horses, elk, deer, and wild fowls, now smiling with American cultivation. The Great Basin itself, and its contents ; the three Parks ; the approximation of the great rivers which, rising together in the central region of the Rocky Mountains, go off east and west towards the rising and the setting sun, — all these, and other strange features of a new region, more Asiatic than American, were brought to It was in May, 1845, that Fremont set out on his third expedition for the explora- tion of the Great West, and he was soon at the north end of the great Tla-math lake, and in Oregon. Hostilities being likely to break out between the United States and Mexico, Fremont, in order to avoid exciting any unjust suspicion as to the character of his movements, obtained leave of the Mexican general at Monterey, to encamp during the ensuing winter, in the San Joaquin valley. It was not long, however, before open diplomatic hostilities broke out between the two republics, and Fremont received word from his govern- ment to keep an eye upon Mexican and other designs upon California. General Kearney, by order of government, was constituted head of the army of the west, which was to retaliate sternly upon Mexico, for her assumed aggressions. New Mexico was soon prostrate before American arms. On the fifth of July, 1846, under the lead of Fremont, a band FREMONT OS HIS QBEAT EXPI/ORINQ TOCR TO THE FAR WEST AND BOCKT MOUKTAIHS. light and revealed to public view in the results of this exploration. But the great pathfinder was to win laurels in stiU another field. of Americans declared their independence of Mexico at Sonoma, a small town near San Francisco, and, not long after, they joined Commodore Sloat, who had recently 290 FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. reduced Monterej'. The successor of Sloafc was Stockton, who, in connection with Fremont, at once gained possession of Ciudad de los Angelos, the capital of Upper California; and one event speedily- succeeded another, until, seemingly as inevitable as the gravitation of fate, the loss of California was consummated, and Fremont was appointed governor of the territory, which, largel}'' through his efforts, had now become a permanent possession of the United States. So curious a link in this chain of events, as the throwing off of the Mexican yoke at Sonoma, and illustrating so aptly, as it does, the intrepidity of the great explorer, possesses an interest peculiarly appropriate to this narrative. Having aided in clear- ing the enemy from the country north of the bay of San Francisco, Fremont re- turned to Sonoma on the evening of the fourth of July, and, on the morning of the fifth, called the people together, explained to them the condition of things in the province, and recommended an immediate declaration of independence. The declar- ation was made, and he was selected as governor, or chief director of affairs. From Sonoma to Yerba Buena, (says one who accompanied him,) the little hamlet where now stands the queen city of the Pacific, Fremont augmented his stock of horses to the number of fifteen hundred, completely clearing the country; and then commenced one of the most pecu- liar races for a fight ever probably known. Rarely speaking but to urge on his men, or to question some passing native, taking the smallest modicum of refreshment, and watching while others snatched a moment's repose, was he wrapped up in his project and determined to have some of the fisht. o Through San Pablo, and Monterey, and Josejiha, they dashed like the phantom riders of the Hartz mountains, startling the inhabitants, and making the night- watcher cross himself in terror as their band flew on. The river Sacrificios was reached ; swollen by the rains, it rolled on, a rapid, muddy stream ; his men paused. " Forward ! Forward f " cried Fremont. Dashing in himself, the struggle is a fierce one, but his gallant mustang breasts the current, and he reaches the opposite shore in safety ; his men after a time join him, two brave fellows finding a watery grave, and many horses being carried down the stream ; but nothing can now stop him — the heights adjacent to the Puebla appear — nam a smile might be seen on the imperturbable visage of the leader — 'tis the sixth day, and the goal is won ! With ninety men on the last of his car- avan of horses, he fell like a thunderbolt on the rear of the Mexicans. The day was with them ; the little band of stout hearts guarding the presidio, taken by surprise, and not having the advantage of the Mexicans in regard to horses, were beginning to waver. But cheer up, cheer again — succor is at hand. On come those riders of Fremont — nothing can withstand their shock. With shouts of triumph they change the battle to a rout. The field is won ! The rout of the enemy was com- plete, and so ended the ride of the one hundred. Thus did Fremont display, by the rarest achievements, the character of a consummate scientific explorer and brave soldier ; and, for his pre-eminent services in behalf of geographical science, he received the highest honors from the learned societies of Europe and America, and a rich and massive gold medal from the king of Prussia, through the hands of Baron Humboldt. XXXYI. MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. 8. MACKENZIE.— 1842 De^^.Laid Plot to Seize the Vessel, Commit Wliolesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black Flag, and C onvert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plunderer], Burnt, their Crews Butchered, and Women ::nd Girls Ravished — .Midshipman Spencer, Son olf a United States Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. — The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spen- cer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Mis- placed. — A Man of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed — Plan Found in His Razor-Case. — Alarming Disatfection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated — (Hose Investigation of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to Them. — Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet On Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of Each Other. — Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All Hands Cheer tlie Ship — Raising the Banner of the Cross. " 1 am leagued to eet p.tssession of the vepsel. murder the comirntider no"* officers choose from among the crew who are williiip to join me euch ns will be useful, murdei the rest, flnrt Lomm.?tice piraling; to attuck do vessels that I am not sure to capture, to destroy every vestige of the cultured vesKCls; ami to select such of the Ceniale passfil . eers as are suitable, and, after using them aufticicutly, to dispose of liiera." — 'JiPEyct-A^a EENLY was the heart of the universal American nation wrung, in December, 1842, at the story of the mutiny and tragedy on board the United States brig Somers, then under the command of Captain Alex- ander Slidell Mackenzie. The chief ringleader in this deep-dyed and amazing plot of crime and blood, THE BL-\cK FLAG. was no less a person than Midshipman Philip Spen- cer, son of the distinguished statesman, Hon. John C. Spencer, of New Yoik, seeretary- of-war under President Tyler, — officiating in that capacity at the very time of the ghastly occurrences here recited. In the whole history of the American navy, this act stands out by itself, without a jiarallel or precedent; and, surely, no pen of romance could weave a tale of imaginary crime equal in ghastly horror to this startling chapter — the first regularly organized mutiny in the annals of the United States naval service. The development of the mutinous scheme transpired on the voyage of the Somers to the United States from Liberia, from whicli place she sailed on the eleventh of Novem- ber, intending to proceed home via St. Thomas. It was on Saturday, the twentj--sixth of November, that Lieutenant Gansevoort went into the cabin and irformed Captain Mackenzie that a conspiracj' existed on board of the brig to capture her, murder the commander, the officers, and most of the crew, and convert her into a pirate, acting Midshipman Philip Spencer being at the head of it. He stated that Purser Hieskell 292 MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. had just informed him that Mr. Wales, his stewed, had approached him as if to converse'on their joint duty, and revealed to him, for the purpose of its being com- municated to the commander, important information. This was, that, on the night previous, being November twenty-fifth, he, Wales, had been accosted by Spencer, and invited by him to get up on the booms, as he had something uncommon to say. When on the booms, Spencer addressed him as follows : " Do you fear death ? Do you fear a dead man ? Are you afraid to kill a man?" Mr. Wales, thus accosted, and having his curiosity excited, with admirable cool- ness induced Spencer to go on, and took the oath of secrecy which was administered to him. Spencer then informed him that he was leagued with about twenty of the crew to get possession of the vessel, murder the commander and officers, choose from among those of the crew who were willing to join him such as would be useful, and murder the rest and commence pirating. He mentioned all the details of the plan, and which was well suited to the attainment of his object — involving, in- deed, much better notions of seamanship than he himself was capable of forming. As one of the inducements to her capture, he stated that a box, containing wine of rare value, brought off with much care at Madeira, as a present from the United States consul at Funchal to Commodore Nicholson, contained money or treasure to a large amount. It was his purpose to carry the vessel to the Isle of Pines, where one of his associates, who had been in the business before, had friends; to attack no vessels that he was not sure to capture ; to destroy every vestige of the captured vessels, after having removed what was useful ; to select such of the female pas- sengers as were suitable, and, after they had used them sufficiently, to dispose of them. Spencer also stated that he had the written plan of his project in the back of his cravat, which he would show to Mr. Wales in the morning. On separating, I Spencer gave expression to terrible threats of instant death to Wales from himself or his accomplices, should Wales utter one word of what had passed. So monstrous and improbable did this project appear to Captain Mackenzie, as thus related to him by Lieutenant Ganse- voort, that he at first treated it with ridi- cule, premising that Spencer had been reading some piratical stories, and then amused himself with working upon Wales's credulity. Considering it, however, to b« his duty to be on his guard, lest there should be even a shadow of reality in the scheme, Mackenzie directed his first lieu- tenant, Gansevoort, to watch Spencer nar- rowly, without, of course, seeming to do so. In the course of the day, Lieutenant Gansevoort gave information that Spencer had been in the wardroom examining a chart of the West Indies, and had asked the assistant surgeon some questions about the Isle of Pines, the surgeon replying that it was a place much frequented by pirates, and dryly asking him in return if he had any acquaintances there. He passed the daj' rather sullenly in one corner of the steerage, as was his custom, engaged in examing a small piece of paper and writing on it with his pencil, and occasionally finding relaxiition in working with a penkife at the tail of a devil-fish, one of the joints of which he had formed into a sliding-ring for his cravat. He had endeavored, too, for some days, to ascertain the rate of the chronometer, by applying to Midshipman Rodgers, to whom it was unknown, and who referred him to the master. With boatswain's mate F. Crom- well, and Elisha Small, seaman, he waa seen in secret and nightly conferences, and to both of these he had given money, as well as to others of the crew ; he had dis- tributed tobacco extensively among the apprentices, in deifiance of reiterated orders ; corrupting the wardroom steward, he caused him to steal brandy from the wardroom mess, with which Spencer not only got drunk himself, but administered it to several of the crew. Though servile in his intercourse with Captain Mackenzie, MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 293 when among the crew Spencer loaded him with blasphemous vituperation, and pro- claimed that it would be a pleasing task to roll him overboard off the round-house. At one time he drew a hriy with a black flay, and asked one of the midshipmen what he thought of it ; he repeatedly asserted, in the early part of the cruise, that the brig might be easily taken ; and, a short time prior to the revelation of the plot, he had examined the hand of Mid- shipman Rodgers, told his fortune, and predicted for him a speedy and violent death. These and various other circum- stances, determined Captain Mackenzie to make sure at once of Spencer's person, and, accordingly, at evening quarters, all the officers were ordered to lay aft on the quarter-deck, excepting the midshipman stationed on the forecastle. The master was ordered to take the wheel, and those of the crew stationed abaft sent to the mainmast. Captain Mackenzie now ap- proached Spencer, and said to him — ic/jiXt cyHo^ycyncA^^^yt^e. " I learn, Mr. Spencer, that you aspire to the command of the Somers." " Oh no, sir," replied Spencer, with a deterential, but unmoved and gently smil- ing expression. " Did you not tell Mr. Wales, sir, that you had a project to kill the commander, the officers, and a considerable portion of the crew of this vessel, and to convert her into a pirate ? " " I may have told him so, sir, but it waa in joke." " You admit, then, that you told him so?" " Yes, sir, but in joke ! " " This, sir, is joking on a forbidden sub- ject — this joke may cost you your life ! Be pleased to remove your neck handker- chief." "^Vhat have you done with the paper containing an account of j'our project, which you told Mr. Wales was in the back -noth ing of your neck handkerchief ? " - being now found in it. "It is a paper containing my day's work, and I have destroj-ed it." " It is a singular place to keep days' work in." " It is a convenient one," was the defe> ential and bland reply. "You must have been aware that you could onlj' have compassed 3-our designs by passing over my dead body, and after that the bodies of all the officers. You had given j-ourself, sir, a great deal to do. It will be necessary for me to confine you, sir ; " saying which. Captain Mackenzie turned to Lieutenant Gansevoort with the order — " Arrest Mr. Spencer, and put him in double irons." Lieutenant Gansevoort stepped forward, and, taking Spencer's sword, ordered him to be double ironed, and, as an additional security, handcuffed. Lieutenant Ganse- voort was directed to keep a constant watch upon Spencer, to answer all his wants, but to have him instantly put to death if detected in speaking to or holding intelli- gence in any way with the crew. On searching Spencer's locker, a small razor-case was found, which he had re- cently drawn from the purser, with a razor in it. Instead of the razor, the case was found to contain a small paper, rolled in another ; on the inner one were strange characters, which proved to be Greek, a language understood by Spencer. It for- 294 MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG f-O.MKKS. tunately happened that Midshipman Rod- gers was also acquainted with Greek, and, on his converting the characters into En- glish, they exhibited well-known names among the crew. The certain — the doubt- ful — those who were to be kejjt whether they would join or not — those who were to do the work of murder in the various de- partments, to take the wheel, to open the arm-chests — were arranged in separate rows. The next day, the crew were inspected at quarters, at ten o'clock. Captain Mac- kenzie taking his station abaft, with the intention of particularly observing Crom- well and Small. The persons of both were faultlessly clean. Cromwell stood up to his full stature, his muscles braced, his battle-axe grasped resolutely, his cheek pale, but his eye fixed as indifferently, at the other side, and he had a determined and dangerous air. Small made a very different figure ; his appearance was ghastly ; he shifted his weight from side to side, and his battle-axe passed from one hand to the other ; his eye wandered irres- olutely, but never towards Captain Mac- kenzie. Cromwell was the tallest man on board, Small the shortest. From the known complicity of Cromwell in the plot, he was brought to the quarter- deck at night, where Cajitain Mackenzie caused him to sit down, and, on question- ing him as to a secret conversation he had held the night before with Spencer, he denied its being him, and said, " It was not me, sir, it was Small." Cromwell was immediately ironed; and Small, thus pointed out by an associate to increased b'jspicion, was also sent for, interrogated, and ironed. Increased vigilance was now enjoined upon all the officers ; henceforward all were perpetually armed ; and either the captain or his first lieutenant was always on deck, and generally both of them were. Several acts of disobedience occurring among the ship's companj^, pun- ishment was inflicted upon the transgres- sors to the full extent of the law ; after which, Captain Mackenzie took occasion to address the crew, explaining to them the general nature of Spencer's project, en- deavoring to divert the mmds of the slightly disaffected from the pictures of successful vice which the piratical riot presented, and informing them that the majority of them, whatever might be their inclinations, were to share the fate of the officers. It is an interesting fact, that every one of the officers of the Somers, from the first lieutenant to the command- er's clerk, proved faithful, chivalrous, and patriotic, from first to last. The effect of the captain's address was various, upon the minds of the crew. It filled many with horror at the idea of what they had escaped from ; it inspired others with terror at the danger awaiting them from their connection with the conspiracy; but the whole crew was far from tranquil- lized. The most seriously implicated began once more to collect in knots during the night. Seditious words were heaid through the vessel, and an insolent and menacing air assumed by many. Some of the petty officers had been sounded by the first lieutenant, and found to be true to their colors. They were under the impres- sion that the vessel was yet far from safe, and that an outbreak having for its object the release of the prisoners was seriously contemplated. This alarming state of disaffection, the increased number who missed their muster, repeated acts of insubordination, together with other considerations, induced Captain Mackenzie to have a thorough inspection of the crew, the immediate arrest of those principally susjjected, and, on the thirtieth of November, he addressed a letter to all the officers on board, excepting the mid- shipmen, asking their opinion as to what additional measures were necessary to the security of the vessel. On receipt of this letter, all the officers assembled in the wardroom and commenced the examination of witnesses. The witnesses were duly sworn, the testimony accurately written down, and, in addition to the oath, each witness signed the evidence which he had given, after hearing it read over to him. Without interrupticp and without food, MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 295 the officers continuetl in their occupation a whole day, and the unanimous result of their deliberations luas, that Spencer, Cromwell, and Small should be put to death. In the justice of this opinion Captain Mackenzie at once concurred, and in the necessity of carrying its recommendation into immediate effect. The petty officers were now mustered on the quarter-deck, and they were each armed with a cutlass, pistol, and cartridge-box, after which the captain said to them, " Mtj lads ! you are to look at me — to obey my orders — and to see my orders obeyed ! Go forward I " The captain now gave orders that imme- diate preparations be made for hanging the three principal criminals at the main j'ard- arni ; and all hands were called to witness the punishment. The after guard and idlers of both watches were mustered on the quarter-deck at the whip intended for Spencer ; the forecastlemen and foretop- men at that of Cromwell, to whose corrup- tion they had been chiefly exposed ; and the maintopmen of both watches at that intended for Small, who for a month or more had filled the situation of captain of the maintop. The officers were stationed about the decks, and the petty officers similarly distributed, with orders to cut down whoever should let go the whip with even one hand or failed to haul on it when ordered. The ensign and pennant being bent on and ready for hoisting, Captain Mackenzie put on his full uniform, and proceeded to execute the most painfu, duty that had ever devolved on an Ameri- can commander — that of announcing to the criminals their fate. To Spencer he said : " When yon were about to take my life, and to dishonor me as an officer while in the execution of my rightful duty, without cause of offense to you, on speculation, it was your intention to remove me suddenly from the world, in the darkness of the night, in my sleep, without a moment to utter one whisper of affection to my wife and children — one prayer for their welfare. Your life is now forfeited to your country; and the necessities of the case, growing out of your corruption of the crew, compel me to take it. I will not, however, imi- tate your intended example as to the manner of claiming the sacrifice. If there j-et remains you one feeling true to nature, it shall be gratified. If you have any word to send to your parents, it shall be recorded, and faithfully delivered. Ten minutes shall be granted you for this pur- pose." This intimation entirely overcame him. He sank, with tears, upon his knees, and said he was not fit to die. Captain Mac- kenzie repeated to him his own catechism, and begged him at least to let the officer set to the men he had corrupted and se- duced, the example of dying with decorum. This immediately restored him to entire self-possession, and, while he was engaged in prayer. Captain Mackenzie went and made in succession the same communica- tion to Cromwell and Small. Cromwell fell upon his knees completely unmanned, protested his innocence, and invoked the name of his wife. Spencer said: "As these are the last words I have to say, I trust they will be believed: Cromwell is innocent!" Though the evidence had been conclusive, Captain Mackenzie was staggered, and at once consulted Lieu- tenant Gansevoort, who said there was not a shadow of doubt. He was told to con- sult the petty officers; he was condemned 296 MUTINY ON BOAED THE BRIG SOMERS. by acclamation by them all, as tbe one man of whom they had real apprehen- sion. Spencer probably wished to save Cromwell, in fulfillment of some mutual oath ; or, more likely, he hoped he might yet get possession of the vessel, and carry out the scheme of murder and outrage matured between them. Small alone, who had been set down as the jwltroon of the three, received the announcement of his fate with com- posure. When asked if he had any messages to send, he said, " I have nobody to care for me but my poor old mother, and I had rather she should know how I have died." On Captain Mackenzie returning again to Spencer, and asking him if he had no messages to send to his friends, he answered, " None that they would wish to receive." Subse- quently he said : " Tell them I die, wishing them every blessing and happiness. / deserve death for this and many other crimes. There are few crimes that I have not committed, I feel sincerely penitent, and my only fear of death is, that my repentance may be too late. I have wronged many persons, but cliiefiy my parents. This will kill my poor mother ! I do not know what would have become of me had I succeeded. I fear this may injure my father. I will tell you frankly what I intended to do, had I got home — I should have attempted to escape. I had the same project on board the John Adams and Potomac. It seemed to be a mania with me." In reply to Spencer's question whether the law would justify the commander in taking life under such circumstances, Cap- tain Mackenzie assured him that it would; that he had consulted all his brother offi- cers, his messmates included, except the boys, and their opinion had been placed before him. He stated that it was just, and that he deserved death. He asked ■what was to be the manner of his death. Captain Mackenzie explained it to him. He objected to it, and asked to be shot. He was told that ao distinction could be made between him and those he had cor- rupted. He admitted that this also was just. He objected to the shortness of the time for preparation, and asked for an hour. No answer v;as made to this request; but he was not hurried, and more than the hour which he asked for was allowed to elapse. He requested that his face might be covered ; this was read- ily granted, and he was asked what it should be covered with ; he did not care. A handkerchief was sought for in his locker ; none but a black one could be found, and this was brought for the purpose. It was now ordered that the other criminals should be consulted as to their wishes in this particular. They joined in the request, and frocks were taken from their bags to cover their heads. Spencer asked to have his irons removed; but this was not granted. He asked for a bible and prayer-book ; they were brought, and others ordered to be fur- nished to his accomplices. He then said to Captain Mackenzie, "I am a be- liever! Do you think that any repent- ance at this late hour can be accepted ? " In reply to this, the -captain called to his recollection the case of the penitent thief who was pardoned upon the cross. He then read in the bible, kneeled down, and read in the prayer-book. He again asked the captain if he thought that his repentance could be accepted, the time being so short, and he did not know if he was really changed. In answer to this, he was told that God, who was all- merciful as well as all-wise, could not only understand the difficulties of the situ- ation, but extend to him such a measure of mercy as his necessities might require. He said, " I beg your forgiveness for what I have meditated against you." Captain Mackenzie gave him his hand, and assured him of his sincere forgjveness. More than an hour was occupied in this scene. The petty officers had been as- signed, according to rank, to conduct the several prisoners to the gang-way. At the break of the quarter-deck was a narrow passage between the trunk and pump-welL Spencer and Cromwell met exactly 02 MUTINY ON BOARD THE BKIG SOMERS. 297 either side. The captain directed Cromwell to stop, to allow Spen- cer to pass first. At this mo- ment Spencer himself paused, md asked to be allowed to see Mr. Wales. He was called, and Cromwell now passed on, almost ^,^4 touching Spencer. When Mr. %_^ Wales came up, Spencer ex- I2J tended his hand to him and said, ^^ " Mr. Wales, I eamesthj hope yoti ivill forgive me for tamper- ing ivith your fidelitij ! " Spen- cer was wholly unmoved, Mr. Wales almost overcome with emotion while he replied, "I do forgive you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope that God will forgive you also!" ^^ Farewell " exclaimed Spencer; and Mr. Wales, weeping, and causing others oF"Sij(GLEAbE*HfVko5f Tu±;'vAiu>-Aii»i. to Weep, rospouded ^^ Farewell! 298 MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. Spencer now passed on. At the gang- way lie met Small. With the same calm manner, but with a nearer approach to emotion, he placed himself in front of Small, extended his hand, and said, "Small, forgive me for leading you into this trouble." Small drew back with horror. " Xo, by God! Mr. Spenrer, I can't for- ffiue you ! '' On a repetition of the re- quest, Small exclaimed in a searching voice, " All, Mr. Spencer, that is a hard thing for you to ask nie ! We shall soon be before the face of God, and thou we shall know all about it!" Captain Mac- kenzie went to Small, urging him to be more generous — that this was no time for resentment. He relented at once, held out his hand to take the still extended hand of Mr. Spencer, and said with frank- ness and emotion, " I do forgive you, Mr. Spencer ! May God Almighty forgive j'ou also ! " After some farewell words with Captain Mackenzie, he said, turning to those wlio held the ship, " Now, brother topuuttes, give me a quick and easy death!" He was placed on the hammocks forward of the gangway, v^ith his face inboard; Spencer was similarly placed abaft the gangway ; and Cromwell also on the other side. About this time, Spencer sent for Lieu- tenant Gansevoort, and told him that he might have heard that his courage had been doubted; he wished him to bear tes- timony that he died like a brave niaji. He then asked the captain, what was to be the signal for execution ; the captain said, that, being desirous to hoist the colors at the. moment of execution, at once to give solemnity to the act and to indicate by it that the colors of the Somers were fixed to the mast-head, it was his intention to beat to call as for hoisting the colors, then roll off, and at the tlii.'d roll fire a gun. Spen- cer asked to be allowed himself to give the Tord to fire the gun; this request was granted, and the drum and fife were dis- missed. He asked if the gun was under him, and was told that it was next but oiie to him. He begged that no interval might elapse between giving the word and firing the gun. Capt...n Mackenzie asked if they were firing with the lock aiu-" wafer, which had always proved quick ant; sure, but was told that they had a tube and priming, and were prepared to fire with a match. Some delay w-ould have ensued, to open the arm chest and get out a wafer. The captain ordered a supply of live coals to be passed up from the gallej', and fresli ones continually supplied ; then assured Spencer there would be no delay. Time still wearing away in this manner, Small requested leave to address the crew. Spencer, having leave to give the wonl, was asked if he would consent to the delay. He assented, and Small's face being uncovered, he spoke as follows: "Shipmates and topmates ! take warning by my example. I never was a pirate. I never killed a man. It's for saying I would do it, that I am about to depart this life. See what a word will do ! It wa.s going in a Guineaman that brought me to this. Beware of a Guineaman." He turned to Spencer and said to him, " I am now ready to die, Mr. Spencer, are }ou ? " Cromwell's last words were, " Tell my wife I die an innocent man ; tell Lieutenant Morris I die an innocent man!" It had been the game of this leading conspirator to appear innocent. Captain Mackenzie now placed himself on a trunk, in a situation from which his eye could take in everything,' and waited for fome time; but no word came. At length, the captain was informed that Spencer said he could not give the word — that he wished the commander to give the word himself. Tiie gun was accordingly fired, and the execution took place! The three conspirators against their country, their flag, their comrades and mankind, swung lifeless in the air, from the yard- arm ; — a fate richly deserved, at least by him who had atrociously declared: "I am leagued to get possession of the vessel, murder the commander and officers, choose from among those of the crew who are willing to join me such as will be useful, murder the rest, and commence pirating ; to attack no vessels that I am not sure to MUTmY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 299 capture ; to destroy every vestige of the captured vessels; and to select such of tlie female passengers as are suitable, and, after using them sufiBciently, to dispose of them." The crew were now ordered aft, and were addressed by Captain Mackenzie, from the trunk on which he was standing ; after which, the crew were piped down from witnessing punishment, and all hand.s called to cheer the ship. Captain Mac- kenzie himself gave the order — " Stand by to give three hearty cheers for the flag of our country ! " Never were three heartier cheers given. On the following Sunday, after the laws for the government of the navy had been read, as usual on the first Sunday of the month, the ere. .vere again impressively addressed by Captain Mac- kenzie, and, in conclusion, he told them that as they had shown that they could give cheei'S for their country, they should now give cheers to th«ir God, — ^for they would do this when they sang jiraises to his name. The colors were now hoisted, and, above the American ensign, the only banner to which it may give place, — the banner of the cross. And now, over the vasty deep, there resounded tliat joyous song of adoration, the hundredth psalm, sung by all the officers and crew. On the arrival home, of the Soniers, the tragedy was investigated by a court of inquiry, consisting of Commodores Stewart, Jacob Jones, and Dallas, and Captain Mackenzie's course was fully apj^roved. A court-martial was also subsequently held, at his personal request, of which Commodore John Downes was president, and the trial, which lasted forty days, resulted in his acquittal. One of the ablest reviews of this case, was that by Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, in which Mackenzie's course was condemned ; but the ponular opinion was greatly in his favor. XXXVII. SUDDEN" APPEARANCE OF A GREAT AND FIERY COMET IN THE SKIES AT NOONDAY.— 1843. It Sweeps Tlirough the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000 Miles in Length. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity, Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. — Its Mysterious Disappearance in the Unknown Realms and Depths of Space — Most Notable of all Comets. — First Visible in the Day-time. — It» Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Threatening Motion — Its Course Towards the Sun. — Their Supposed Contact. — Becomes Red in Passing. — Recedes Straight to the Earth. — Watched with Deep Concern. — The Magnetic Needle Agitated — Wide Fears of a Collision. — Its Probable Result. — Indian Terror and Prediction. — Triumphs of Astronomy. — Diameter of the Comet's Head. — Measurement of its Tail. — Stars Seen Through the Train. — Appearance in the Equator. — Like a Stream of Molten Fire. — Beautiful Ocean Reflection. — Double Sweep of the Tail. — Other Comet- ary Phenomena. *' A pathleaa romet, The menace of the unive n,-; Htill rnlting on with innate force. Without a ephera, without a course." USUALLY, the name or word 'comet' is applied to bodies which appear in the heavens with a train, or tail, of light ; but it is ifT-- now not uncommon to apply the term to those heavenly bodies, jgll beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere, which are nebulous 1(4^ in their appearance, and with or without a tail. It is, however, the class first named, which includes the most wonderful ex- amples of this phenomenon in modern times ; and, in connec- tion with the splendid visitant of this kind that appeared in 1843, — almost rivaling, as it did, the splendor of the sun itself, — some notice will be appropriate of similar bodies which, during the last century, have excited wonder and admir.ation. Without dwelling iipon the appearance of those comets which antedate the year 1800, or upon the corruscatious, flickering and vanishing like northern lights, of the comet of 1807, some mention may be made of that of 1811, the finest that, up to the time of its appearance, had adorned the heavens since the age of Newton. It was noted for its intense brilliancy, and was visible for more than three months in succes- sion to the naked ej-e, shining with great splendor — being, indeed, a comet of the first class, in point of magnitude and luminosity. Its brilliant tail, at its greatest elongation, had an extent of one hundred and twenty-three millions of miles, by a breadth of fifteen millions ; and thus, supposing the nucleus of the comet to have been placed on the sun, and the tail in the plane of the orbits of the planets, it would have reached over those of Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and have bordered on that of Mars. At its nearest approach to us, the comet was yet distant one hundred and forty- one millions of miles, so that even had the tail pointed to the earth, its extremity SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 301 would have been eighteen millions of miles away from its surface. Its appearance was strikingly ornamental to the evening sky, and every eye waited and watched, intently, to gaze upon the celestial novelty, as it grew into distinctness with the de- clining day. The elements of the orbit of this comet were accurately computed by Professors Bowditch, Farrar and Fisher. The comet of 1843 is regarded as, per- haps, the most marvelous of the present age, having been observed in the day-time even before it was visible at night, — pass- ing very near the sun,^-exhibiting an enormous length of tail, — and arousing an Interest in the public mind as universal and deep as it was unprecedented. It startled the world by its sudden appari- tion in the spring, in the western heavens, like a streak of aurora, streaming from the region of the sun, below the constellation of Orion. It was at first mistaken, by multitudes, for the zodiacal light; but its aspects and movements soon proved it to be a comet of the very largest class. There were, too, some persons who, without regarding it, like many of the then numerous sect called Millerites, as foretokening the speedy destruction of the world, still could not gaze at it un- troubled by a certain nameless feeling of doubt and fear. From the graphic narrative of a Euro- pean traveling at that date in the wilds of America, it appears that the Indians around him viewed the comet of 1843 as the precursor of pestilence and famine. One of his companions, Tamanua, a young Wapisiana, broke the silence with which the whole party for some time stared at the starry train of the ball of fire, with the exclamation, " This is the Spirit of the Stars, the dreadful Capishi — famine and pestilence aivait tis ! " The others immediately burst into a torrent of vocif- eration, lamenting the appearance of the dreadful Capishi, and raising, with violent gesticulations, their arms towards the comet. This comet was visible in Bo- logna, Italy, at noon, two diameters of the sun's disc east of the sun, while passing its perihelion, being then only ninety-six thousand miles distant from that lumin- ary, and its speed three hundred and sixty six miles per second ; so that, in twelve minutes, it must have^passed over a space equal to the distance between the earth and the moon. When its distance from the sun allowed it to be visible after sun- set, it presented an appearance of extraor- dinary magnificence. But the appearance of this strange body, as observed at different points, by various scientific observers, has been made a portion of the permanent scientific his- tory of our country, by Professor Loomis, of Yale college, to whose learned investi- gations in this department of human knowledge, more than one generation is largely indebted. In his admirable paper on this magnificent comet, he states that it was seen in New England as early as half-past seven in the morning, and con- tinued till after three in the afternoon, when the sky became considerably ob- scured by clouds and haziness. The appearance, at first, was that of a lumin- ous globular body with a short train — the whole taken together being found by measurement about one degree in length. The head of the comet, as observed by the naked eye, appeared circular ; its light, at that time, equal to that of the moon at midnight in a clear sky ; and its apparent size about one-eighth the area of the full moon. Some observers compared it to a small cloud st/ongly illuminated by the sun. The train was of a paler light, gradually diverging from the nucleus, and melting away into the brilliant sky. An observer at Woodstock, Vt, viewed the comet through a common three-feet tele- scope, and found that it presented a dis- tinct and most beautiful appearance, ex- hibiting a very white and bright nucleus, and showing a tail which divided near the nucleus into two separate branches. At Portland, Me., Captain Clark meas- ured the distance of the nucleus from tha sun, the only measurement, with one ex- ception, known to have been made in any part of the globe before the third of 302 SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GRKAT COMET. Marcli. He found that tlie distance of the sun's farthest limb from the nearest limb of the comet's nucleus, was four de- grees, six minutes, fifteen seconds. At Conception, in South America, Captain Ray saw the comet on the twenty-seventh of February, east of the sun, distant about one-sixth of his diameter. The comet was seen at Pernambuco, Brazil, and in Van Dieman's Land, on the first of Marcli. On the second, it was seen in great bril- liancy at St. Thomas, and by various navigators in the equatorial regions. On the evening of the third, it was noticed at Key West, and excited much attention. On the fourth, it was seen in the latitude of New York by a few, and, on the even- ing of the fifth, it was noticed very gen- erally. From this date, until about the close of the month, it jJi'esented a most mtif/nip'ccnt spectacle every clear evening, in the ab- sence of the moon. As seen near the equator, the tail had a darkish line from its head through the center to the end. It was occasionally brilliant enough to throw a strong light upon the sea. The greatest length of tail, as seen there, was about the fifth of March, sixty-nine de- grees as measured with the sextant, and it was observed to have considerable curv- ature. One observer described it as an elongated birch-rod, slightly curved, and having a breadth of one degree. At the Cape of Good Hope, March third, it was described as a doubla tail, about twenty- five degrees in length, the two streamers making with each other an angle of about a quarter of a degree, and proceeding from the head in perfectly straight lines. In the United States, the greatest length of tail observed was about fifty degrees. Professor Tuttle gives it, as seen through the Cambridge telescope, at one hundred and eighty millions of miles. The curva- ture of the tail upward, though very noticeable, scarcely exceeded two degrees. The first observation of the nucleus, with the exception of the noonday observations, is believed to have been made at the Cape of Good Hope, on the third of March, after which it was observed regularly until its disappearance. At Trevandrun, in India, it was observed from the sixth ; at Cambridge, Mass., it was observed on the ninth, and at numerous places on the eleventh. The first European observation of the nucleus was made on the seven- teenth, at Rome and Naples. The comet nowhere continued visible many days in succession. It was seldom seen in Europe after the first of April. The last observation at Naples was on the seventh. On the fifteenth, at Berlin, Professor Encke thought he caught a faint glimpse of the comet, but it could not be found again on the subsequent evening. At Washington, D. C, the comet was observed on the morning of March sixth. Mr. Maury says concerning it, that his attention was called to a para- graph in the newsjsapers of that date, Monday, stating that a comet loas visible near the sun at mid-day ivith the naked eye! The sky was clear; but not being able to discover anything with the unas- sisted eye, recourse was had to a telescope, though with no better result. About sunset in the evening, the examination was renewed, but still to no purpose. The last faint streak of day gilded the west, beautiful and delicate fleeces of cloud cur- tained the bed of the sun, the upper sky was studded with stars, and all hopes of seeing the comet that evening had van- ished. Soon after the time for retiring, however, the comet was observed in the west,— a phenomenon sublime and beauti- ful. The needle was greatly agitated; and a strongly marked pencil of light was streaming up from the path of the sun in an oblique direction to the southward and eastward ; its edges were parallel. Stars could be seen twinkling through it, and no doubt was at first entertained, that this was the tail of the comet. Direction was given to search the eastern sky with the telescope in the morning, from early dawn and before, till sunrise ; but nothing strange or uncommon was noticed. Tues- day was a beautiful day. The sun was clear, gilding, as it sunk below the hills, SUDDEX APPEAEANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 303 a narrow streak of cloud, seen through the tree-tops beyond the Potomac. The tail hud appeared of great length for the first time the evening before; and the observ- ers expected, therefore, to find a much greater length to it in the evening follow- ing. It was a moment of intense inter- est when the first stars began to appear. The last raj-s of the sua still glittered in the horizon; and at this moment, a well defined pencil of hairy light was seen l^ointing towards the sun.. Soon after six o'clock it grew more distinct, and then gradually faded away. Professor Loomis states that the most complete series of observations on this comet of 1843, in this country, were made by Messrs. Walker and Kendall of Phila- delpliia, where the comet was followed until April tenth. A great many astron- perihelion was prodigious. This was such as, if continued, would have carried it round the sun in two hours and a half ; in fact, it did go more than half round the sun in this time. In one day — that is, from twelve hours before, to twelve hours after jierihelion passage,— it made two hundi'ed and ninety-one degrees of anom- .ily ; in other words, it made more than three-quarters of its circuit round the sun. The head of this comet was exceedingly small in comparison with its tail. AVhen first discovered, many were unwilling to believe it a comet, because it had no head. The head was jirobably nowhere seen bj the naked eye after the first days of March. At the close of March, the head was so faint as to render observations somewhat difficidt even with a good telesco])e, while the tail might still be followed by the VIEW OF THE GREAT COMET WHEN NEAREST THE EARTH. omers, however, comjiuted the comet's orbit, and obtained most extraordinary results The comet receded from the sun almost in a straight line, so that it required careful observations to determine in which direction the comet jiassed I'ouud the sun, and some at first obtained a direct orbit, when it should have been retrograde. The perihelion distance — that is, the least dis- tance from the sun, — was extremely small, very little exceeding the sun's radius. Some obtained a smaller quantity than this, but such a supposition seems to in- volve an impossibility. It is nevertheless certain, that the comet almost grazed the sun; perhaps some portion of its nebu- losity may have come into direct collision with it ! The velocity with which the comet ■whirled round the sun at the instant of naked eye about thirty degrees. Bessel remarked that this comet seemed to have exhausted its head in the manufacture of its tail. It is not, however, to be hence inferred, that the tail was really brighter than the head, onlj^ more conspicuous from its greater size. A large object, though faint, is much more noticeable than a small one of intenser light. The nearest approach of the comet's head to the earth was about eighty mil- lions of miles. The absolute diameter of the nebulosity surrounding the head was about thirty-six thousand miles. The length of the tail was prodigious ; on the twenty-eighth of February, it was thirty- five millions of miles, and its greatest visible length was one hundred and eight millions, namely, on the twenty-first of Alarch. Stars were easily distinguishable 304 SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT COMET. ■ o ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^p^ r f^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^v -'^^'^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^F ^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 •i D ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^v ^ t ^^^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H E^ ^^^^^^HT ^': ^^^^^^^^1 s H ^^^^^^^F^p ^^^^^^^^^H Id S 8 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Kk ^^S»r ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 a ^^^^^^^^^^^^^p^ i9^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B^ -^§^^^F^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 O ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^F SWsBq^Si' ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^■r / t^SBBm ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 •< ^^^^^V^^F^^^^^^^^^^^H •< H ^W^^^^^^l ■< HyK^^^^H ^ul^^^^l iSII^^I^H • 1 SUDDEN APPEAEA^^CE OF A GREAT COMET. 305 through the lumiiijus ttai:i. The visible portion of the tail attaiued its greatest length early in March, remained nearly stationary for some time, and during the first week in April suddenly disappeared, from increased distance, without any great riving home, after an absence of about two years, he found that the sewing-machine was a conspicuous object of public attention ; doubt had been succeeded by admiration of its qualities ; and several ingen- ious men having experimented, had finally improved upon the ma- chine as originally constructed. A war of litigation ensued, and, after several years, Mr. Howe's claim to be the original inventor was legally and irreversibly established, the judge deciding that 'there was no evidence which left a shadow of doubt that, for all the benefit conferred upon the public by the introduction of a sewing-machine, the public are indebted to ]\Ir. Howe.' To him, therefore, all other inventors or improvers had to pay tribute. From being a poor man, Howe became, in a few years, one of the most noted mil- lionaires in America ; and his bust, exe- cuted by Ellis, shows a man of marked personal appearance and striking natural endowments. INVENTION" OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 335 But here the very singular circumstances relating to the alleged priority of Mr. Walter Hunt's invention, as described, by a graphic and well-informed writer in the New York Galaxy, — showing how preca- rious, at best, is the basis upon which even the most impartial of legal conclu- sions are arrived at, — may well be pre- sented, as exhibiting the trials of inventors and public benefactors : It was between the years 1832 and 1834, that Mr. Hunt, in his own workshop in T^jnos street, New York city, invented, built, and put into full and effective operation a machine for sewing, stitching, and seaming cloth. This first machine was made principally by the inventor's own hands. It was the pioneer sewing-machine of America, and the first really successful one of the world. There had already been a French inven- tion, a tambour machine for ornamenting gloves; but it was of very little general utility. These machines of Walter Hunt all contained the invention of the curved needle with the eye near the jjoint, the shuttle and their combination, and they originated the famous interlocked stitch with two threads. Many samples of cloth were perfectly sewn by these machines, and many of the friends and neighbors of the inventor came to see them work. At length, one G. A. Arrowsmith was so well satisfied with the working of the machines, that he bought them, in 1834, and there- with the right to obtain letters-patent. But no sooner had Arrowsmith got this right, than he became impressed both with the vastness of the undertaking and with the prejudice which any scheme appar- ently tending to impoverish poor seam- stresses would awaken. At the same time he became involved in pecuniary disaster, and for years did nothing with the machine. Fortunately for Mr. Hunt's fame, many persons had seen his machines work, and had seen them sew a good, strong and handsome stitch, and form seams better than hand-sewing. Of these, no less than six directly testified to this fact in a suit afterward brought, and established the fact bej-ond question that Walter Hunt invented the first sewing- machine, and that it contained the curved, eye-pointed needle at the end of a vibrat- ing arm with a shuttle. The case itself was decided upon another point. These afiidavits are still in existence. But this was not all. Fifteen j-ears after he had sold his machines to Arrowsmith, who lost a fortune and a name in not devoting him- self to their reproduction, Walter Hunt from memory gave a sworn written de- scription of his first machine in every part, and, to clinch the matter, afterward con- structed a machine from that description, which was the counterpart of the machine of 1834, and worked perfectly. Finally, one of the original machines sold to Arrow- smith in 1834, was and is, still preserved, though in a dilapidated condition. Walter Hunt then undertook to make a new sewing-machine, which should be an ojjer- ative instrument, and should contain all the parts which were preserved of the old machine, with such others as were necessary to present the machine in the same shape that the original one pos- sessed. He did this successfully, and the restored machine, still operative and ready to sew good, strong seams, is yet in existence. Without drawing further, however, from this curiously interesting chapter in the history of the machine, involving a ques- tion of the deepest interest to inventors, it is time to describe the instrument — its parts and peculiar features, and modus operandi, — invented bj' Mr. Howe, and which transformed him from an obscure and struggling mechanic to one of the foremost manufacturers and millionaires in America Seating ourselves therefore before this wonderful elaboration of artis- tic genius and skill, as it has come fresh from the hands of the toilsome but at last successful inventor, and witnessing its weird and agile movement while its enthu- siastic proprietor essaj's to sew a seam, we find that two threads are employed, one of which is carried through the cloth by means of a curved needle, the pointed end of which passes through the cloth; the S36 l^vYEKTlON OF THE SEWING-MACHINE, l^^^ssf^i"^ S:5;aR.-^;. i Tas ouo Joa> scv: ^cvtsti isY bjlxp ax» NjicaixE. &e«dl« a$«d has the eT« that is to reoeire :h« thr«atl vithin » small distaiM«^ say an eighth of aa ineh, d its initer or pointed end, th9 other or outer end of the needle tving held hr an arm that Tibtates on a • -Toi or pint pin, the nuratoie of the •^g such ais lo correispond with -.- ^... oi the arm a$ i:s radius. When the thread is c^uried through the cloth, vhieh maj he done to the distance of about three-fourths of an inch, the thread ■srill be stretched above the curved needle, ^ • :2ing in the manner of a K>vrsrring. - •■ -g a smaQ open space between the tTO. A small shuttle, carrying a bobbin iaed tr::h silk or thread, is then made to ii*s enrirelT through this open space, t>etve«n the needle and the thread irhich -rries ; and when the shuttle is re- : : , i. -which is doae by means of a picker sraf or shuttle-driver, the thread which ■was carried in by the needle is surrounded '■ T rbss received from the shuttle ; as the is drawn out, it forces that which .-- received from the shuttle into the ': •,>iy of the cloth ; and as this operation is repeated, a seam is formed which has on each side c>f the cloth the same appearance as that given by stitching, -with tliis j^ecu- liarity. that the thread sewn on ore side of the cloth is exclusively that which was given out by the needle, and the threavi seen oa the other side is exclusively that which was given out by the shuttle. Thus, according to this arrangement, a stitch is made at every back and forth movement of the shuttle. The two thick- nesses of cloth that are to be sewed, are held upon pointed wires, which project out frv>m a metallic plate, like the teeth of a comb, but at a considerable distance from each other,— rsay three-fourths of an inch, more or less, — these pointed wires sustain- ing the cloth, and answering the pu»-pose of ordinstfy basting. The metallic plate from which these wires project has numerous hcJes through it, which answer the purpose of rack teeth in enabling the plate to move forward, by means of a pinion, as the stitches are taken. The distance to which the said plate is moved, and, consequently, the length of the stitches, may be regu- lated at pleasure. One of the moet formidable of Mr. i, xtth'Axi OFTHK SR. 9V ■MX. at a «iti*x>**id «»' i 3KW T«db taldii? ^atcf^iK^ «%i« ^ ir^^a Mf a« te sjake it Uis a<;v, , o»9e » 48f, lixtQwii^ lisstf Jie atutit 3g»st a ieaij^ i i-:ut 04 tiit Wi« ■' erf U!U«SU'J% ". 'i^ out »_ >fit iuffl» «rt ^^ifk^ iras a iaiivoe. •wrinft-m^- * ^« «£UM; Utrtci? VKI>A «f XB «et^ttB ■t- MBS 'i^aiig, ttwrnewt i.d ds't^ "r and •fibe aiiejwdwtti. It 73ie apisasKiK Isad ^te ^gpy^as- IhsA ^be loose Jw t '% rf iJte dot- ■fibs ^bep a^ ci«!a. tried &e vauiMmfL. latai. erred $t* 'Smss opfSBoA "t* lie tm^ a ewaij' ■ t ut taie SBa':;lu&e "was a t«* jieaaK, ous j«r TaK mus'-. •uit v-iir; a »ovt»^ I'^fe. Br ■ebrv' n 338 INVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. could change her foot to the other pedal, open the melodeon part, and discourse music! The 'rotating liook' and feeding apparatus of the Wilson machine consti- tute an admirable feature ; and the same may be said of the Grover & Baker or 'double loop' stitch. Though at first looked upon as of doubt- ful utility, the value of the sewing-machine was in a short time abundantly demon- strated. Curiosity and doubt were suc- ceeded by admiration, and soon the demand became extensive both at home and abroad, until, at the present time, the annual pro- duction of machines is thought to approx- imate to half a million. Active minds were also not slow to devise what they deemed to be improvements in the ma- chine and its appurtenances ; and to this end, the number of patent-claims filed up to the present time does not vary much from one thousand, though only an extremely small proportion of these are of any really practical importance. Such a revolution in the processes and results of national industry as that effected by this machine could have entered into no man's mind^not even the mind of one given to the wildest romancing. Thus, in the brief period of some dozen years merely, from the time of the introduction of the machine to the public, the value and practical results of the invention may be understood from the following facts, which appeared in evidence in the contest before the commissioner of patents, for the extension of Howe's patent — namely : At that time, the amount of the boot and shoe business of Massachusetts was fifty- five million dollars annually, and of this amount, the ladies' and misses' gaiter- boots and shoes involved one-half. About one-eleventh of the sum total above named was paid for sewing labor. From this proportion it appeared that the annual expenditure for sewing upon ladies' and misses' gaiter-boots and shoes was two and a half million dollars, and that it would have cost four times as much if done by hand, — so that the saving in a single year, in one state, by this invention, in the man- ufacture of one special article only, was nearly eight million dollars. Similarly conclusive evidence was given in regard to the making of shirts, by an extensive manufacturer in Connecticut, who stated that his factorj^ turned out about eight hundred dozen per week ; that he used four hundred sewing-machines, and that one machine, with an attendant, would do the work of five hand-sewers at least, and do it better. He paid, at least, four dollars per week ; but, reckoning it at three dollars, — the old price for sewing before machines were introduced, — it showed a saving, in this single manufac- tory, of two hundred and forty thousand dollars. Allowing, then, the males of the United States, at that time, to wear out two shirts a j'ear apiece, a proportional saving would amount to the large sum of between eleven and twelve million dollars annually, in making the single article of shirts. Another witness, representing the firm of Brooks Brothers, of New York city, manufacturers of clothing, stated that that house alone did a business, at the period named, of over a million dollars annually, using twenty machines in the store, besides patronizing those that others used, and doing about three-fourths of all their sewing by machines, and paying annually for sewing labor about two hundred thou- sand dollars; seventy-five thousand dollars of this was saved by machines, — that is, the machines saved seventy-five thousand dollars on every two hundred thousand paid for sewing labor. But the great manufactures of this house did not consti- tute, at most, hut one-hundredth part of the machine-made clothing produced in that city ; which fact, putting the propor- tion at one-hundredth part, made the busi- ness of manufacturing machine clothing in the city of New York one hundred million dollars per annum ; and thus, at the rate paid by that house for sewing, it brought the cost of sewing in that branch of the business in that city, — even with the assistance of the sewing-machines, — up to twenty million dollars. Applying the INVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 889 same ratio to the estimated amount of this branch of business in the United States, the total would reach the sum of seventy- five million dollars. All this, be it remena- bered, was in the comparative infancy of the machine. Its pecuniary importance, as a labor agent, is now estimated to reach $500,000,000 annually. XLIl. SPIRITUAL KNOCKIJ^GS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS.-184T. Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Being9.-A leged Reve- lations from the Unseen World.-Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded N. Y. Village, of this Great Modern Wonder.-Its Development among All Nations in All Lands.-Astonishing and Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations.-First Rappings in HydesviUe, N. Y.-Time, Manner, Circumstances.-A Murdered Man's Spirit -How the Mystery was Solved.-Rappings, the Spirit Lan-ua<^e -Its Interpretation Discovered.-Two Young Girls the " Mediums."-Their Haras.ed Experience -Public Ettbrts to Sift the Matter -No Clue to any Deception.— The Family go to Rochester.-Knockings Accompany Them.-New Forms of " Manifestations."-Many Mediums Spring Up.-Things Strange and Startling.-Univeraal Wonder Excited.-Theories of Explanation. —Investigations and Reports.- Views of Agassiz, Herschel, Etc.— Press and Pulpit Discussions.— Different Opinions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena —Thirty Years' History. "1 cannot diflpo3e of another man'j facta, nor allow him to dispose of mine."— Emeesoit. OCHESTER, K Y., one of the most beautiful and thriving of Ameri- can inland cities, has long borne the celebrity which attaches to what are now known, the world over, as " spiritual manifesta- tions," — knockings, rappings, ta- ble-movings, spirit communica- HoosE IN WHICH SPIRITUAL RAPPINGS oKionfATED. tions, and the like. But, in reality, to the secluded and unambitious village of HydesviUe, in the town of Arcadia, Wayne county, N. Y., belongs the pre-eminent distinction of being the place where originated, in a manner most castial, and seemingly insignificant for the time, in respect to duration or results, this most mysterious, wonderful, and wide-spread physico-psj'chological phenomenon since the world began. It was from Hj'desville that these manifestations were introduced — so to speak — in the city first named, and where, by the great notoriety which soon characterized them, they came to be known, universally, as the " Rochester Knockings." The starting i^oint of all, in the history of tliis astonishing movement — one which has extended to the remotest bounds of the known world, which has challenged the scrutiny and excited the wonder of monarchs, snvavfs, popes, philosophers, divines, councils and synods, — is the humble house in HydesviUe, occupied, in 1847, by Mr. Michael Weekman, who, at different times that year, heard rappings upon his door. SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AIiT> TABLE-TIPPINGS. 341 but on every occasion failed to discover any person present, or any producing source or cause, notwithstanding the most vigilant watch was kept up and the most industrious search instituted, by the family and neighbors. Under these strange and uncomfortable circumstances, Mr. Weekman left the premises, which, however, were soon tenanted by the family of Mr. John D. Fox. But, so far from a change of occupants being attended by a cessation of the rappings, the very reverse was the fact. From March, 1848, the house was disturbed, from night to night, by the same constantly recurring sounds — rappings, tappings, knocks, and even shuffling of furniture, — and which could not be accounted for on the hypothe- sis of natural agency. Nor were these knockings now con- fined to the door of the house, but per- vaded every part, depriving the inmates of their regular sleep. In this state of wakefulness, and the source of the noises appearing to be in close proximity to the bed occupied by two of the Fox girls, it is related that one of them, some ten or eleven years of age, thought she would just try the experiment, sportively, of re- sponding to the raps bj' as close and accurate a repetition of them as was pos- sible with her fingers. Her efforts were so far successful as to elicit reciprocal sounds from the invisible agencj'. In a little while, the parties were enabled to open a distinct communication, by means of the following simple method, and with the accompanying results, as narrated by the Rev. Mr. Fishbough, an early investi- gator of the phenomena. After mutual responses had been opened, one of the girls said : " Now do as I do ; count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6," at the same time striking her hands together, the girl acting more in sport, than in expectation of what really fol- lowed. The same number of raps re- sponded, and at similar intervals. The mother of the girls then said: "Count ten ; " and ten distinct raps were heard ; "Count fifteen," and that number of sounds followed. She then said, " Tell us the age of Cathy (the youngest daugh- ter) by rapping one for each year," and the number of years was rapped correctly. Then, in like manner, the age of each of the other children was by request in- dicated by this invisible agent. Startled and somewhat alarmed by these manifes- tations of intelligence, Mrs. Fox asked if it was a human being who was making that noise, and if it was, to manifest the fact by making the same noise. There was no sound. She then said, "If you are. a sjririt, make two distinct sounds." Two raps were accordingly heard. The members of the family had by this time all left their beds, and the house was again thoroughly searched, as it had been be- fore, but without discovering anything that coidd explain the mystery ; and after a few more questions, and responses by raps, the neighbors were called in to assist in further efforts to trace the phe- nomenon to its cause ; but these persons were no more successful than the family had been, and they confessed themselves thoroughly confounded. For several sub- sequent days the village was in a turmoil of excitement, and multitudes visited the house, heard the raps, and interrogated the apparent intelligence which controlled them, but without obtaining any clue to the discovery of the agent, further than its own persistent declaration that it was a spirit. About three weeks after these occurrences, David, a son of Mr. and Mrs. Fox, went alone into the cellar where the raps were then being heard, and said, " If you are the spirit of a human beiriff, ivho once lived on the earth, can yoxi rap the letters that toill spell your name ? and if so, rap now three times." Three raps were promptly given, and David pro- ceeded to call the alphabet, writing down the letters as they were indicated, and the result was the name ' Charles B. Rosma,' a name quite unknown to the family, and which they were afterward unable to trace. The statement was in like manner obtained from the invisible intelligence, that he ivas the spiirit of a peddler who had 342 SPIRITUAL KNOCKIKGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. been murdered in that house some years previous. It is said that, at first, the raps occurred in the house even when all the members of the family were absent, but subsequently they occurred only in the presence of the two younger daughters, Catharine and Margaretta ; and, on the family removing, soon after, to the neigh- boring city of Eochester, the manifesta- tions still accompanied them ; the family took up their abode with a married sis- ter, Mrs. Fish, who subsequently became celebrated as a medium, through whom the manifestations were exhibited. The original method of communication — the spirit language — it would appear, consisted in conveying an affirmative by a THE MISSES FOX. single rap (though perhaps emphasized by more), and a negative was indicated by silence. Five raps demanded the alpha- bet, and this could be called over bj' the living voice, or else in a printed form laid upon a table, and the finger or a jjencil slowly passed along it — when, on arriving at the required letter, a rap was heard ; the querist then recommenced, until words and sentences were spelled out — upon the accuracy or intelligence displayed in which, depended, in a great degree, the amount of faith popularly accorded to the manifestations. It was with this key, the conception of which as adapted to the mastery of the strange phenomenon is utterly incomprehensible, that the above information was evoked from the mur- dered peddler, who also further stated that the number of the j-ears of his fleshly pil- grimage had been thirty-one ; that he had been murdered in that house, and buried in the cellar ; and that the murderer was alive, as were also the children of Kosma, his victim. Such revelations as these, which, as soon as received bj- the interlocutors, were freely given to the world, excited pro- digious interest, far and near. The cel- lar was dug to a great depth, to discover, if possible, some evidence of murder hav- ing been committed ; the premises and neighborhood examined with great thor- oughness ; and inquiries made in all directions. But all these efforts failed to elicit any disclosure of fact or circumstance, bearing in the slightest degree upon such a trans- action. At length, on the fourteenth of November, 1849, in accordance, as was said, with directions from ' the spirits,' a public lecture on the origin and character of the mani- x\ festations was given in Corinthian \ Hall, Eochester, at which the ' me- diums ' were present. Manifesta- tions were had, and a committee was chosen from the audience to make thorough examination into their nature and origin, and report at an adjourned meeting the next even- ing. Intense interest was felt in regard to the result of this committee's proceedings, and in due time their report was made to a crowded and breathless assembly. In this report, the committee stated that they had made such investigations as seemed necessary and practicable ; that the me- diums had apparently afforded every facility for the most minute and ample examination ; but that they — the com- mittee — had utterly failed to discover in what manner the mysterious sounds or raps were produced, or what was their cause or origin, there being no visible agency whatever to v/hich, by any process SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 345 of ordinary reasoning, tlie phenomena could be attributed. Other committees of gentlemen arrived at the same conclusion ; whereupon a com- mittee of ladies was ajipointed, who took the young lady mediums into a private room of a hotel to which they were strangers, and there disrobed and searched them. The mediums were then made to stand on pillows, with handkerchiefs tied tightly around their ankles. The raps were repeated, and intelligent answers to unpremeditated questions were rapped in the usual way. But the manifestations — ' spiritual ' manifestations, as they were now, and have since continued to be, called — were not long confined to the Fox family. In- deed, so rapid and wide-spread was the development of the phenomena, that, in D. D. HOME. the short space of two or three years, it was calculated that the number of recog- nized "media" practicing in various parts of the United States, was not less than thirty thousand. Various theories continued to be pro' pounded as from the first, though now more learned and scientific, in explanation of the moving of tables and other pon- derable substances and objects, as well as the knockings. Concerning the latter, it has been argued that, in spiritualism, it is the mind of the person charging the medium who exhibits all the intelligence — or it maybe some one en rapjjort after the medium has been charged to that degree that the electricity overflows in raps, and these raps are of the same character as detonations of electricity when a positive and negative cloud meet in mid air and produce thunder. Another theory of the cause of the rap- pings is that of a too great redundancy of electricity' congregated upon the involun- tary nerves, through passivity of mind, and thus imparting to them extraordinary force. The theorj' presented with such jjhilo- sophical ability bj' Professor Mahan, is, that there is in nature a power, termed, scientifically, the odylic or mesmeric force, which is identical with the cause of all the mesmeric and clairvoyant phenomena, on the one hand, and with the immediate cause of these manifestations, on the other ; that by reference to the properties and laws of this force as developed in the spirit circles, and to its relations to the minds constituting the same, every kind of spirit phenomena can be most fully accounted for, without the supposition of the presence or agency of disembodied spirits ; and that the entire real facts of spiritualism demand the supposition that this force, in the pro- duction of these communications, is con- trolled exclusively, for the most part unconsciouslv, by the minds in the circles, and not by disembodied spirits out of the same. As indicating most clearly, according to this theor}', the presence ai.d action of an invisible but purely physical cause — a cause connected with the organism of par- ticular individuals, its advocates do not hesitate to cite all the various wonders of spiritual manifestation, whether mental or material, not excepting the astonishing occurrences which transpired in Stamford, Conn., in 1S50, and which made the name of the occupant of the house, Eev. Dr. Phelps, for a long time so famous through- out the land. In this case, the phenomena consisted in the moving of articles of fur- niture in a manner not only unaccounta- ble, but baffling all description. By Professor Agassiz, the knockings and rappings were, from the very first, pronounced a delusion ; an opinion shared. 314 SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. perhaps, by the whole body of learned men in the country. Professor Paraday, of England, claimed to demonstrate that it is by physical power, and not by any mag- netic fluid, that tables move on being pressed by the fingers. Herschel sug- gested that there might be a fluid which served to convey the orders of the brain to the muscles. Suffice it to add, that, as no authority in respect to these phenomena is held in higher repute among the disciples of the new system, than that of Mr. Andrew Jackson Davis, the Poughkeepsie seer, his opinion that the producing agencies, in the moving of tables and other inorganic sub- stances bj^ spirits, are terrestrial magnet- ism and electricitj', may be cited as rep- resenting the views of a large portion, probably, of the spiritualists in this countrj'. The variety of phenomena known by the general term of ' spiritual manifestations,' is very numerous. Some of the principal, as enumerated by Mr. Ballon under five several distinctions, and which is perhaps as fair and complete an exposition as the literature of spiritualism affords, are the following : — First — making peculiar noises, indica- tive of more or less intelligence, such as knockings, rappings, jarrings, creakings, tickings, imitation of many sounds known in the different vicissitudes of human life, musical intonations, and, in rare instances, articulate speech. Some of these various sounds are very loud, distinct, and forcible ; others are low, less distinct, and more gentle, but all audible realities. Second — the moving of material sub- stances, with like indications of intelli- gence, such as tables, sofas, light-stands, chairs, and various other articles, shaking, tipping, sliding, raising them clear of the floor, placing them in new positions, (all this sometimes in spite of athletic and heavy men doing their utmost to hold them down ;) taking up the passive body of a person, and carrying it from one position to another across the room, through mid- air ; opening and shutting doors ; thrum- ming musical instruments ; undoing well- clasped pocket-books, taking out their contents, and then, by request, rejalacing them again ; writing with pens, pencils, and other substances, both liquid and solid — sometimes on paper, sometimes on com- mon slates, and sometimes on the ceilings of a room, etc. Third — causing catalepsy, trance, clair- voyance, and various involuntary muscu- lar, nervous, and mental activity in medi- ums, independent of any will or conscious psychological influence by men in the flesh, and then through such mediums, speak- ing, writing, preaching, lecturing, philoso- j)hizing, jsrophesj-ing, etc. Fourth — presenting apparitions: in some instances, of a spirit hand and arm ; in others, of the whole human form ; and in others, of several deceased persons con- versing together ; causing distinct touches to be felt by the mortal living, grasping and shaking their hands, and giving many other sensible demonstrations of their existence. Fifth — through these various manifes- tations communicating to men in the flesh numberless affectionate and intelligent assurances of an immortal existence, mes- sages of consolation, and annunciations of distant events unknown at the time, but subsequently corroborated ; predictions of forthcoming occurrences subsequently ver- ified, forewarnings against impending danger, medicinal prescriptions of great efficacy, wholesome reproofs, admonitions, and counsels, expositions of spiritual, theo- logical, religious, moral, and philosophical truths appertaining to the present and future states, and important to human wel- fare in every sphere of existence, some- times comprised in a single sentence, and sometimes in an ample book. It is taught by writers on spiritualism, that it is a r/rancl religious reformation, designed and destined to correct theologi- cal errors, to remove sectarian barriers, and to excite more warmly the religious element among mankind. This claim is denied bj' those opposed to the movement, who charge it as aiming, or tending, to do SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 345 awa_y with the Bible, to overthrow Chris- tianity, and destroy the Churcli and its institutions, — indeed, to brealc up the whole frame-work of society as at present constituted. The discussion has engaged, in the press and pulpit, and on either side, the profoundest adepts in theologj*, science, and philosophy ; and, though none dispute that fraud and imposture have played their their own thoughts, without any knowl- edge at the time, on his part, of either ideas or subject ; the hand-writing of each was unlike that of the other, and, though both were written by Dr. Dexter's hand, they were both wholly unlike his, and this characterized the whole of the volumin- ous communications, according to these authors' statement. CORA L. V. HATCH. A. J. PAVIS. JUDGE EDMONDS. part, in multitudes of instances, in con- nection with the matter, it is admitted that the phenomena, under reputable auspices, exhibit great, novel, and aston- ishing facts. Since the initiation of the movement, or phenomena, in 1847, by the Misses Fox, the most distinguished mediums have been A. J. Davis, D. D. Home, Mrs. Cora L. V. Hatch, etc., etc. ; the most widely cele- brated authors, A. J. Davis, Judge Ed- monds, and George T. Dexter, Adin Ballon, and some others. The learned work bear- ing the joint authorship of Judge Ed- monds and Dr. Dexter is generally pro- nounced one of the ablest productions, devoted to the philosophy of these modern wonders. A notable feature in the con- tents of this work are the alleged communi- cations received from Swedenborg and Lord Bacon, written, in their own hand-writing, from the spirit world, — they using Dr. Dexter's hand as the instrument to convey The different kinds of mediums are classified, by Judge Edmonds, into those who disturb the equanimity of material objects, without any intelligence being necessarily or usually communicated through them, for the purpose of address- ing to the human senses the idea of a physical communion with a power out of and bej-ond mere mortal agency; con- nected with this class, though with the addition of an intelligent communion between the mortal and the invisible power, are the mediums for table-tippings; another class consists of those who write, their hands being affected by a power manifestly beyond their own control, and not emanating from or governed by their own will ; a fourth species are speaking mediums, some of whom speak when in the trance state, and some when in their 346 SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. normal or natural condition, in which cases the invisible, intelligence seems to take possession of the mind of the medium, and compel the utterance of its ideas, sometimes in defiance of the will of the mortal through whom it is talking ; impressible mediums are those who re- ceive impressions in their minds to which they give utterance, either by writing or speaking, their faculties be- ing entirely under their own control; still another class are those who see, or seem to see, the objects presented to their cou- sideration. In all the nations of Europe, Asia, and Africa, the phenomena of spiritualism have become widely prevalent ; and, only ten years subsequent to the first develop- ment, its newspapers estimated the number of its avowed adherents at one and a half million, with one thousand public advo- cates, forty thousand public and private mediums, and a literature of five hundred different works. XLIII. GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZU- MAS, AS THE CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.— 1847. General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — Flight of Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight. — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly frona the Towers of the National Palace. — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the United States Army. — Peace on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the Two Powers. — Disputed Points of Boundary. — Me.\ico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor Sent to tlie Rio Grande — A Speedy Collision. — Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. — Raging Fight at Monterey : Its Fall. — Santa Anna's Warlike Summons — It is Treated with Contempt. — His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand Miles — Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Cliurubusco, etc — Scott's Order, "On to Mexico!" — Huzzas and a Quickstep.— Terrific Storming of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. — The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the United States. " Under the favor of Ood. the valor of this armv. after many elorlous victories, has hoisted the flag of our country in Uie Capital of Mex- ico, and on the Palace of its Ooveromeal."— Gknebal Scott to ho Army, Slptember 14th. _2^i«Ps STORMING OF CHArt^LTEriiC. ^ . . ^^ Y}j, IIIEFLY, if not solely, owing ^-^ to the annexation of Texas - y£^ to the United States, war broke out between "'^ this country and Mexico, in 1S46, under proc- lamation by President Polk, in pursuance of formal declar- ation of hostilities in May of that year, promulgated by congress. Claiming Texas as a portion of its own domain, Mexico had sturdily resisted its separation from her con- trol, either as an independent power, or as a portion of the United States. But, being forced, finally, to yield these points, fresh troubles soon succeeded, arising from the disputed question of <\ *' boundary. Mexico claimed to the Neuces, and the United States '''\J-Z- to the Rio Grande del Norte. Santa Anna, then at the head of « j Mexican affairs, insisted on tha visrorous assertion of Mexico's '■ 348 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. claims, and military force was brought into requisition to this end. It was this pro- ceeding, as alleged, that induced counter military movements on the part of the United States, under the lead of General Taylor, and in a short time collision and open war followed, the belligerents putting their best armies and ofl&cers into the field, the contest finally culminating in the occu- pancy of the Mexican capital ■ by a victori- ous army under General Scott, and in the signing of a treaty by which the United States came into possession — for a mere nominal pecuniary equivalent — of the whole of Texas, New Mexico, and Upper California. The principal battles and other military movements which rendered this conflict memorable, were the siege of Fort Brown, the battles of Palo Alto and Eesaca de la Palma, the fall of Monterey, the battle of Buena Vista, Doniphan's expedition to Chihuahua and march of five thousand miles, the reduction of Vera Cruz, the bat- tles of Cerro Gordo, Contreras, and Chu- rubusco, the storming of Chapultepec, and the entrance of Scott into the halls of the Montezumas, as the conqueror of the enemy's chief city, — the first instance of a foreign capital heinr/ entered hy the army of the United States. The latter event, and the battle of Buena Vista, formed the most important movements during the campaign, and have earned a conspicuous place — as have also their heroes, Taylor, and Scott, — in American military histor3-. It was on the twenty-second of February, 1847, that Taylor made those final dispo- sitions of his troops that ended in the fa- mous victory of Buena Vista, and which, in the brief lapse of three years thereafter, carried the victor to the presidential chair, as chief magistrate of the United States. The first evidence directly afforded the United States troops of the presence of Santa Anna, was a white flag, dimly seen fluttering in the breeze, and which proved, on the arrival of its bearer, to be what the Americans ironically termed a benevolent missive from Santa Anna, proposing to General Taylor terms of unconditional sur- render ; promising good treatment ; stat- ing that his force amounted to twenty thousand men ; that the defeat of the invaders was inevitable, and that, to spare the effusion of blood, his propo- sition should be comjilied with. But, strange to say, the American general showed the greatest ingrati- tude ; evinced no appreciation what- ever of Santa Anna's kindness, and informed him, substantially, that whether his force amounted to twenty thousand or fifty thousand, it was equally a matter of indifference — the terms of adjustment must he ai'- ranged hy gunpou'der. Santa Anna's rage at this response to his conceited summons was at the boiling point. Skirmishing continued until night- fall, and was renewed at an early hour the next morning, the struggle deepening in in- tensity as the day advanced, imtil the battle raged with great fury along the entire line. After various successes and reverses, the fortunes of the daj' showed on the side of the Americans. Santa Anna saw the crisis, and true to his instincts, sought to avert the result by craft and cunning. He sent a white flag to General Taylor, in- quiring, in substance, " what he wanted." This was at once believed to be a mere rnse to gain time and re-collect his men ; but the American general thought fit to notice it, and General Wool was deputed GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 349 to meet the representative of Santa Anna, and to sa3' to him that what was " wanted " was peace. Before the interview could be had, the Mexicans treacherously re-opened their fires. The flag, however, had accom- plished the ends which its wily originator designed — a re-enforcement of his cavalry during the parley, — and, with his courage thus restored, he determined to charge Taylor's line. Under cover of their artil- lery, horse and foot advanced upon the American batteries, the latter, against all disadvantages, nobly maintaining their po- sitions, by the most brilliant and daring efforts. Such was the rapidity of their transitions that officers and pieces seemed empowered with ubiquity, and upon cav- alry and infantry alike, wherever they appeared, they poured so destructive a fire as to silence the enemy's artillerj', compel his whole line to fall back, and soon to assume a sort of subdued movement, indi- cating anything but victorj'. Again, the spirits of Taj'lor's troops rose high. The Mexicans appeared thoroughly routed; and while their regiments and divisions were flying in dismay, nearly all the American light troops were ordered forward, and followed them with a most terrible fire, mingled with shouts which rose above the roar of artillery. The pur- suit, however, was too hot, and, as it evinced, too clearly, the smallness of the pursuing force, the Mexicans, with a sud- denness which was almost magical, rallied, and turned back with furious onset. They came in myriads, and for a while the car- nage was dreatlful on both sides, though there was but a handful to oppose to the frightful masses so rapidly hurled into the combat, and which could no more be re- sisted than could an avalanche of thunder- bolts. " All ix lost ! " was the cry — or at least the thought — of many a brave Amer- ican, at this crisis. Thrice during the day, when all seemed lost but honor, did the artillery, b_y the ability with which it was maneuvered, roll back the tide of success from the enemy, and give such overwhelming destructive- ness to its effect, that the army was saved and the glory of the American arms main- tained. The battle had now raged with variable success for nearly ten hours, and, by a sort of mutual consent, after the last carnage wrought among the Mexicans bj' the artil- lery, both parties seemed willing to pause upon the result. Night fell. Santa Anna had been repulsed at all points ; and ere the sun rose again upon the scene, the Mexicans had disappeared, leaving behind them only the hundreds of their dead and dying, whose bones were to whiten their native hills. The loss was great on both sides, in this long, desperate, and sanguin- ary conflict, the force of the Mexicans be- ing as five to one of the Americans. Santa Anna was bold and persevering, and turned Taylor's left flank by the mountain paths with a large force, when all seemed to be lost. But the light artil- lery and the mounted men saved the day. Tliroughout the action General Taylor was where shots fell hottest and thickest, two of which passed through his clothes. He constantly evinced the greatest quickness of perception, fertility of resource, and a cool, unerring judgment not to be baffled. One of the bravest deeds of this struggle was that performed by Major Dix, who, when the air was rent with shouts of triumph from the enemy, over the inglori- ous flight of an Indiana regiment, dashed off in pursuit of the deserters, and seizing 350 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. the colors of the regiment as he reached them, appealed to the men to know whether they had determined tliiis to turn their backs upon their country ! He was answered by three cheers. A portion of the regiment immediately rallied around him, and was reformed by the officers. Dix, in person, then led them towards the enemy, until one of the men volunteered to take the flag. Admiration and honor were showered upon Taylor, who had thus, with his little army of between four and five thousand men, met and completely vanquished Santa Anna, the greatest of Mexican sol- diers, with his army of twenty thousand. It was a contest which, with his other vic- torious battles at Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Monterey, covered the hitherto almost unknown name of Taylor with a halo of glory from one end of the land to the other; gave immense prestige to American arms ; and created, perhaps too largely, the feeling that the conquering party might now go on and overrun the country, and dictate its own terms of peace. But there were strong positions j'et to be mastered, and gory fields yet to be won, before that most of all coveted achieve- ment — the capture and occupation of the Mexican capital — was to crown the suc- cesses of the invaders and prove that the enemy's country was at their mercy. As events proved, the last named great act in this military drama was reserved for General Scott, who had been appointed by the government at Washington, su- preme commander of the army in Mexico. Taylor had led the way, by his splendid movements and victories, for the accom- plishment of all that yet remained to be done. Vera Cruz, the key to the Mexican capital, with the almost imjiregnable fort- ress of San Juan de Ulloa, soon fell into the hands of the Americans, after a terri- bly destructive cannonade. A similar fate befell nearly all the principal ports. Again was Santa Anna defeated on the embattled heights of Cerro Gordo, in which tremendous strong- hold he had attempted with fifteen thousand men, but in vain, to op- pose Scott, who had only six thou- sand. To this succeeded the battle ^ of Contreras, in which the Mexi- cans, led by General Valencia, who had an army of some eight thou- sand, were routed with terrible slaughter, by Gen. P. E. Smith. In a few months from this time, the plains of Churubusco witnessed another battle, the deadly carnage and mortal results of which, no pen could adequately portray, the Americans taking possession of every point, as triumphant victors. The prize was not 3'et won, but orders were in due time given by General Scott to march to the capital. Deafening cheers and a quirkstej) greeted this order, on its proinulgation. Two strong positions of the enemy were, however, yet to be over- come, namely, that of Molino del Rey, and the strong castle of Chapultepec, before the city could be reached. The first- named was captured by General Worth, after a most bloody fight, and with the loss of nearly one-fourth of his men, the latter having at last found it necessary to burst open an entrance, and with the bay- onet to meet the enemy hand to hand. New and more terrible struggles were GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 351 soon to take place. On tlie eleventh of September, the cavalry were ordered to make a movement on the sloping jjlains above Chapulteisec and Tacubaya, and attack, if possible, the latter place. How- ever, the enemy kept a diligent look-out, and no sooner did the cavalry begin to move out of town than their scouts ap- peared upon the spot, and, soon after, a small force appeared to dispute the ap- proach. On the twelfth, the cannon began to roar again, south and west, at the garita of San Antonio and Chapultepec, but it soon became evident to them where the real attack was intended, for on the south side the fire was slackened, and after a /i/^U^^-OC-^^ % time it left off altogether — while, on the west it grew more and more violent, until, at about eight o'clock, the Americans opened their battery of mortars upon the castle, and began to throw shell with terri- ble precision. General Pillow's approach, on the west side, lay through an open grove, filled with sharpshooters, who were speedily dis- lodged ; when, being up with the front of the attack, and emerging into open space, at the foot of a rocky acclivity, that gal- lant leader was struck down by an agoniz- ing wound. The broken acclivity was still to be ascended, and a strong redoubt, midway, to be carried, before reaching the castle on the heights. The advance of the brave men, led by brave officers, though necessarily slow, was unwavering, over rocks, chasms, and mines, and under the hottest fire of cannon and musketr3'. The redoubt now yielded to resistless valor. Shout after shout rung wildly through the victorious ranks of the assailants, announcing to the castle the fate that impended. The Mexicans were steadily driven from shelter to shelter. The re- treat allowed no time to fire a single mine, without the certainty of blowing up friend and foe. Those who, at a distance, at- tempted to apply matches to the long trains, were shot down by the Americans. There was death below as well as above ground. At length the ditch and wall of the main work were reached, and the scaling-ladders were brought \\\> and planted by the storming parties. Some of the daring spirits in the assault were cast down, killed or wounded ; but a lodgment was soon made, streams of heroes followed, all opposition was overcome, and several of the regimental colors were flung out from the upper walls, amid long continued shouts and cheers. All this sent dismay into the capital. To the Americans, no scene could have been, more animating or glorious. General Quitman performed a distin- guished part in these movements, nobly sustained by his officers and men. Simultaneously with the movement on the west, he gallantly approached the south-east of the same works over a cause- way with cuts and batteries, and defended by an army strongly posted outside, to the east of the works. These formidable obstacles had to be faced, with but little shelter for troops or space for maneuvering. Deep ditches, flanking the causeway, made it difficult to cross on either side into the adjoining meadows ; and these, again, were intersected by other ditches. The storming party, however, carried two batteries that were in the road, took some guns, with many prisoners, and drove the enemy posted behind in support ; they then crossed the meadows in front, under a heavy fire, and entered the outer 3fi2 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. ;53 inclosure of Chapultepec just in time to join ill the final assault from the west. Captain Barnard, of the voltgeur regiment, was the first to plant a regimental color. During the period covered by these exciting scenes, the firing in and about the castle had three times apparently reached its crisis or climax, and then suddenly slackened, inducing the belief in some quarters that the assault had been beaten off; but, at about half-past nine o'clock the Mexican flag suddenly disap- peared, a blue flag was shown, and directly after the stars and stripes arose and waved over the conquered fortress. Immediately after having taken the place, the Americans hauled down the light field-pieces from the castle, and fired them upon the retreating enemy, ujjon whose heels they closely followed. The firing came nearer, and at about two o'clock in the afternoon, the innermost intrenchments began to open their fire, and balls to whistle in the town. It was not long before the forces of Worth and Quitman — the former proceed- ing by the San Cosme aqueduct, and the latter along that of Belen. Scott joined the advance of Worth, within the suburb, and beyond the turn at the junction of the aqueduct with the great highway from the west to the gate of San Cosme. In a short time, the troops were engaged in a street fight against the Mexicans posted in gardens, at windows, and on housetops — all flat, with parapets. Worth ordered forward the mountain howitzers of Cadwallader's brigade, preceded by skir- mishers and pioneers, with pickaxes and crowbars, to force windows and doors, or to burrow through walls. The assailants were soon in unequality of position fatal to the enemy. By eight o'clock in the evening. Worth had carried two batteries in this suburb. There was but one more obstacle, the San Cosme gate (custom- house), between him and the great square in front of the cathedral and palace — the 0.9 heart of the city. There was a lull in the firing, and already the inhabitants were hoping to pass a quiet night, when suddenly the dull roar of a heavy mortar resounded close by the town, and shells with fiery tails came with portentous energy. The gallant Quitman pressed on, regardless of gates, batteries, or citadels, and compelled Santa Anna to break vp In the middle of the night and retreat with all his force, leaving the city to the mercy of the victors. He turned northward to the villa of Gaudaloupe, and after a short rest retreated on to San Juan de Teotihuacan. On Tuesday morning, September four- teenth, 1847, the first American column made its appeai'ance in the streets of Mexico, and came on in dense masses through the principal avenues — Calle San Francisco, del Correo, de la Professa, and the two Plateros, in a straight line from the Alameda up to the palace and Plaza- Mayor. The Mexican colors now disap- peared from the palace, a regimental flag took their place, and directly afterwards the stars and stripes were flung out and waved proudly from the Halls of the Montezumas, — the first strange banner that had ever floated from that palace since the conquest of Cortez. On entering the palace, one of General Scott's first acts was to require from his comrades-in-arms, their thanks and grat- itude to God, both in public and pri- vate worship, for the signal triumphs which they had achieved for their coun- try ; warning them also against disorders, straggling, and drunkenness. Thus was the prowess of American arms successfuUj' asserted, the conquered nation being also compelled to cede the immensely valuable territory of New Mexico and Upper California to the United States, and accepting the lower Rio Grande, from its mouth to El Paso, as the boundary of Texas. XLIV. EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. LYNCH.— 1847. The Sacred River Successfully Circuninavigatei and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights Upon ihe " Sea of Death " — It is Explored, and Sounded, and Its Mysteries Solved. — Strange Phenomena and Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality. — Important Results to Science. — Zeal in Geographical Research. — Interest in the Holy Lsnd. — American Inquiry Aroused — Equipment of Lynch 's Expedition. — On Its Way to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount Carmel. — Passage Down the Jordan. — It is Traced to Its Source. — Wild and Impressive Scenery. — Rose Colored Clouds of Judea. — Configuration of the Dead Sea — Dense, Buoyant, Briny Waters. — Smarting of the Hands and Face. — Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors, etc. — Tradition Among the Arabs. — Sad Fate of Former Explorers. — Temperature of This Sea. — Submerged Plains at Its Bottom. — Sheeted with Phosphorescent Foam. — Topography, Width and Depth. — " Apples of Sodom " Described. — The Pillar of Salt, Lot's Wife. •* But here, above, around, below. In moontaiii .ir in c\en. Nor tree, nor xhnib. nor flower, Noraughlnt' v«(;etative power. The weaned t'ye may ken : But all its rocka at random thrown. — Black wavea. — bare crags, — and heaps of etone.'* 'lELDING to the earnest desire of individuals and societies interested in the advancement of geographical science, the United States government lent its .sanction and co-operative aid to the expedition planned in 1847, by Lieutenant W. F. Lynch, an accomplished naval officer, for the exploration and survey of the Dead Sea. The results of this expedition, so replete ■with information of the most important and deeply interesting charac- ter concerning a spot so singular in its sacred and historic associations, as well as m3'sterious in its physical peculiarities, fully justified the zeal with which it was advocated and the high auspices under vphich it embarked. The names of those whose services were accepted by the commander, as members of the expedition, and whose qualifications were believed to fit them peculiarly for the undertaking, were as follows: Lieu- tenant, John B. Dale ; passed-midshipman, R. Aulick ; herbarist, Francis E. Lynch; master's mate, J. C. Thomas; navigators, Messrs. Overstock, Williams, Homer, Read, Robinson, Lee, Lock- L^ wood, Albertson, Loveland. At Constantinople, Mr. Henry Bedloe associated himself with the expedition, and, on their arrival at Beirut, Dr. H. J. Anderson became a member of the party, making the num- ber sixteen in all. The services of an intelligent native Syrian, named Ameung, were EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 355 also obtained at Beirut, who acted in the capacity of interpreter, and rendered other important aid. By direction of the government at Washington, the store-ship Supply was placed at the disposal of Lieutenant Lynch, and, as the vessel would otherwise be in ballast, she was laden with stores for the United States naval squadron, then in the Mediterranean. The Supply sailed from New York, November twenty-first, and in about three months anchored off Smyrna. From the latter place, the officers of the expedition proceeded to Constantinople in the Austrian steamer, with the view of ob- taining from the Sultan, through the American minister, permission to pass through a part of his dominions in Syria, for the purpose of exploring the Dead Sea, and of tracing the Jordan to its source. The reception by the j'oung sultan was in all respects favorable ; the authorization was granted, and the sultan expressed much interest in the undertaking, request- ing to be informed of the results. Thus armed with all necessary powers, the officers returned to Smyrna, rejoining the Supply. On the tenth of March, the expedition sailed for the coast of Syria, and, after touching at Beirut and other places, came to anchor in the Bay of Acre, under Mount Carmel, March twenty- eighth. The explorers, with their stores, tents, and boats, having landed, an en- campment was formed on the beach, and the Supply departed to deliver to the naval squadron the stores with which it was laden, with orders to be back in time for the re-embarkation of the exploring party. The first difficulty of a practical nature was how to get the boats across to the Sea of Tiberias. The boats, mounted on trucks, were laden with the stores and baggage of the party, and all was arranged most conveniently — only the horses could not be persuaded to draw. The harness was also found to be much too large for the small Syrian horses ; and although they manifestly gloried in the strange equipment, and voluntarily performed sundry gay and fantastic movements, the operation of pulling was altogether averse to their habits and inclinations. At last, the plan suggested itself of trying camels. On being harnessed, three of the huge animals to each truck, they marched off with the trucks, the boats upon them, with perfect ease, to the great delight of the sojourners, and equal astonishment to the natives. All the arrangements being now perfected, the travelers took their de- parture from the coast, on the fourth of April. They were accompanied by a fine old man, an Arab nobleman, called Sherif Hazza, of Mecca, the thirty-third lineal descendant of the prophet. As he ap- peared to be highly venerated by the Arabs, Lieutenant Lynch thought it would be a good measure to induce him to join the party, and he was prevailed upon to do so. Another addition to the party was made next day in the person of a Bedouin sheikh of the name of Akil, with ten well- armed Arabs, or fifteen. Arabs in all, including servants. But little information concerning the Jordan could be obtained at Tiberias, and it was therefore with considerable con- sternation that the course of that river was soon found to be interrupted by frequent and most fearful rapids. Thus, to proceed at all, it often became necessary to plunge with headlong velocity down the most appalling descents. So great were the difficulties, that, on the second evening, the boats were not more than twelve miles in direct distance from Tiberias. The banks of the Jordan were found beautifully studded with vegetation ; the cultivation of the ground, however, not so extensive as it might be, and as it would be, if the crops were secured to the cultivator from the desperadoes who scour the region. The waters ( f the Jordan, clear and transparent except in the im- mediate vicinity of the rapids and falls, are well calculated for fertilizing the valleys of its course. There are often plenty of fish seen in its deep and shady 356 EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. course. The wide and deeply-depressed plain through which the river flows, is generally barren, treeless, and without verdure ; and the mountains, or rather, the cliffs and slopes of the risen uplands, present, for the most part, a wild and cheerless aspect. The verdure, such as it is, may only be sought on and near the lower valley or immediate channel of the Jordan. No one statement can apply to the scenery of its entire course; but this description given of the central part of the river's course, is a fair specimen of the kind of scenery which the passage of the river offers. Lieutenant Lj'nch describes the charac- ter of the whole scene of this dreary waste as singularly wild and impressive. Looking out upon the desert, bright with reverberated light and heat, was, he says, like beholding a conflagration from a window at twilight. Each detail of the strange and solemn scene could be ex- amined as through a lens. The moun- tains towards the west rose up like islands from the sea, with the billows heaving at their bases. The rough peaks caught the slanting sunlight, while sharp black shadows marked the sides turned from the rays. Deep rooted in the plain, the bases of the mountains heaved the garment of the earth away, and rose abruptly in naked pyramidal crags, each scar and fissure as palpably distinct as though within reach, and yet were far distant. Toward the south, the ridges and higher masses of the range, as they swept away in the distance, were aerial and faint, and softened into dimness by a pale transparent mist. The plain that sloped away from the bases of the hills was broken into ridges and multitudinous cone- like mounds, resembling tumultuous water at the meeting of two adverse tides, and presented a wild and checkered tract of land, with spots of vegetation flourishing upon the frontiers of irreclaimable sterility. A low, pale, and yellow ridge of conical hills marks the termination of the higher terrace, beneath which sweeps gently this lower plain with a similar undulating surface, half redeemed from barrenness by sparse verdure and thistle-covered hillocks. Still lower was the valley of the Jordan — the sacred river ! — its banks fringed with perpetual verdure ; winding in a thousand graceful mazes ; the pathway cheered with songs of birds, and its own clear voice of gushing minstrelsy ; its course a bright line in this cheerless waste. Concerning an earlier portion of the river's course, about one-third from the lake of Tiberias, Lieutenant Lynch says, that, for hours in their swift descent the boats floated down in silence — the silence of the wilderness. Here and there were spots of solemn beauty. The numerous birds sang with a music strange and manifold ; the willow branches were spread upon the stream like tresses, and creeping mosses and clambering weeds, with a multitude of white and silvery little flowers, looked out from among them ; and the cliff swallow wheeled over the falls, or went at his own will, darting through the arched vistas, and shadowed and shaped by the meeting foliage on the banks. There was but little variety in the scenery of the river; the streams sometimes washed the bases of the sandy hills, at other times meandered between low banks, generally fringed with trees and fragrant with blossoms. Some points presented views exceedingly picturesque. The western shore is peculiar from the high calcarious limestone hills which form a barrier to the stream when swollen by the efflux of the Sea of Galilee, during the EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 357 winter and early spring ; while the left and eastern bank is low and fringed with tamarisk and willow, and occasionally a thicket of lofty cane, and tangled masses of shrubs and creeping jjlants, gave it the appearance of a jungle. No less than twenty-two nights were spent by the party upon the lake. During this time the whole circuit of it was made, including the back-water at the southern extremit}', which had never before been explored in boats. Every object of in- terest upon the banks was examined ; and the lake was crossed and recrossed in a zigzag direction through its whole extent, for the purpose of sounding. The figure of the lake, as sketched by the party, is somewhat different from that usually given to it. The breadth is more uniform throughout ; it is less narrowed at the northern extremity, and less widened on approaching the peninsula in the south. In its general dimensions it is longer, but is not so wide as usually represented. Its length by the map is forty miles, by an average breadth of about nine miles. The water, a nauseous compound of bitters and salts. A fresh north wind was blowing as they rounded the point. They endeavored to steer a little to the north of west, to make a true west course, and threw the patent log overboard to measure the distance; but the wind rose so rapidly that the boats could not keep head to wind, and it became necessary to haul the log in. The sea continued to rise with the increasing wind, which gradually freshened to a gale, and presented an agitated surface of foaming brine ; the spray, evaporating as it fell, left incrustations of salt upon the voyagers' clothes, as also their hands and faces ; and, while it conveyed a prickly sensation wherever it touched the skin, was, above all, exceedingly painful to the eyes. The boats, heavily- laden, struggled sluggishly at first; but when the wind increased in its fierceness, from the density of the water it seemed as if their bows were encountering the sledge-hammers of the Titans, instead of the opposing waves of an angry sea. Finallj-, such was the force of the wind, that it was feared both boats must founder. Knowing that they were losing advantage every moment, and that with the lapse of each succeeding one VALLEY OF THE JOUDAN AND DEAD SEA. After giving a sketch of the sights and scenes attending the bathing of the pil- grims in the Jordan, Lieutenant Lynch says that the river, where it enters the sea, is inclined towards the eastern shore ; and there is a considerable bay between the river and the mountains of Belka, in Ammon, ou the eastern shore of the sea. the danger increased, they kept away for the northern shore, in the hope of being yet able to reach it, — their arms, clothes and skin, coated with a greasy salt, and their eyes, lips and nostrils, smarting ex- cessively. But, although the sea had assumed a threatening aspect, and the fretted 358 EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. mountains loomed terrific on either side, and salt and ashes mingled with its sands, and fetid sulphureous springs trickled down its ravines, the explorers did not despair. Awe struck, but not terrified, fearing the worst yet hoping for the best, preparations were made to spend a dreary night upon the dreariest waste ever seen. There is a tradition among the Arabs that no one the exact topography of its shores, as- certained the temperature, width, depth, and velocity of its tributaries, collected specimens of every kind, and noted the winds, currents, changes of the weather, and all atmospheric phenomena. The bottom of this sea consists of two sub- merged plains, an elevated and a depressed one. Through the northern, and largest KlGUi ti.^NK OF THE I>EAI> SEA. can venture upon this sea and live, and the sad fates of Costigan and Molyneux are repeatedly cited- to deter such attempts. The first one spent a few days, the last about twenty hours, and returned to the place from whence he had embarked without landing on its shores. One was found dying upon the shore ; the other eypired, immediately after his return, of fever contracted upon its waters. The northern shore is an extensive mud flat, with a sandy plain beyond, the very type of desolation ; branches and trunks of trees lay scattered in every direction — some charred and blackened as by fire, others white with an incrustation of salt. The north-western shore is an unmixed bed of gravel, coming in a gradual slope from the mountains to the sea. The eastern coast is a rugged line of mountains, bare of all vegetation — a continuation of the Hauran range, coming from the north, and extending south beyond the scope of vision, throwing out three marked and seemingly equi-distant promontories from its south-eastern extremities. Lieutenant Lynch fullj' sounded the sea, determined its geographical position, took and deepest one, in a line corresponding with the bed of the Jordan, is a ravine, which also seems to correspond with the Wady el-Jeib, or ravine within a ravine, at the south end of the sea. At one time, the sea was observed to assume an aspect peculiarly somber. Un- stirred by the wind, it lay smooth and unruffled as an inland lake. The great evaporation inclosed it in a thin transpar- ent vapor, its purple tinge contrasting strongly with the extraordinary color of the sea beneath, and, where they blended in the distance, giving it the appearance of smoke from burning sulphur. It seemed a vast caldron of metal, fused but motion- less. The surface of the sea was one wide sheet of phosphorescent foam, and the waves, as they broke upon the shore, threw a sepulchral light upon the dead bushes and scattered fragments of rocks. The exhalations and saline deposits are as un- friendly to vegetable life as the waters are to animal existence ; that fruit can be brought to perfection there, may therefore well be considered improbable. The celebrated " Apples of Sodom," so often spoken of by ancient and modern EXPEDITIOlSr TO THE DEAD SEA. 359 ■vrriters, are peculiar to this locality. The plant is a perennial, specimens of which liave been found from ten to fifteen feet high, and seven or eight feet in girth. It has a gray, cork-like bark, with long and oval leaves. The fruit resembles a large smooth apple or orange, and when ripe is of a yellow color. It is fair to the eye, and soft to the touch, but when pressed, it explodes with a puff, leaving in the hand only the shreds of the rind and a few fibers. It is, indeed, chiefly filled with air like a bladder, which gives it the round form, while in the center is a pod contain- ing a quantity of fine silk with seeds. When green, the fruit, like the leaves and the bark, affords, when cut or broken, a thickish, white milky fluid. This plant, however, which from being in Palestine found only on the shores of the Dead Sea, was locally regarded as being the special and characteristic product of that lake, is produced also in Nubia, Arabia, and Persia. Thus, this assumed mystery of the 'Sea of Death ' is a simple phenomenon of nature, easily explained ; as is also that of the alleged fire and smoke of the lake, being, as already described, simply mist and phosphorescence. In regard to the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned,— one of the most remarkable facts recorded in holy writ, — and the continued existence of which has always been asserted by the natives, as well as by many travelers, Lieutenant Lynch asserts that a pillar is there to be seen ; the same, without doubt, to which the reports of the natives and of travelers refer. But that this pillar, or any like it, is or was that into which Lot's wife was transformed, cannot, of course, be demon- strated. It is a lofty, round pillar, standing ap- parently detached from the general mass, at the head of a deep, narrow, and abrupt chasm. Immediately pulling in for the shore, the lieutenant in company with Dr. Anderson, went up and examined it. The beach was a soft, slimy mud, encrusted with salt, and a short distance from the water, covered with saline fragments, and flakes of bitumen. They found the pillar to be of solid salt, capped with carbonate of lime, cylindrical in front and pyramidal behind. The upper or rounded part is about forty feet high, resting on a kind of oval pedestal, from forty to sixty feet above the level of the sea. It slightly decreases in size upwards, crumbles at the top, and is one entire mass of crystallization. A prop or buttress connects it with the mountain behind, and the whole is covered with de- bris of a light stone color. Its peculiar shape is attributable to the action of the winter rains. Lieutenant Lynch gives no credit to the representations that connect this pillar or column with Lot's wife. And this is true of most travelers who have visited the sjjot, though Montague gives it, as his opinion, that Lot's wife having lin- gered behind, she, while so lingering, be- came overwhelmed in the descending fluid, and formed the model or foundation foi this extraordinary column ; a lasting me- morial of God's punishing a most deliber- ate act of disobedience. After an absence of a little more than a year. Lieutenant Lynch returned, with his companions, to the United States, the ex- pedition having been highly successful in accomplishing the purpose for which it was planned ; comparing most favorably in this respect with the results of explora- tions made by othe. parties, and receiving the liighest encomiums of English review- ers some of whose comments, throwing additional light on various points involved in the subject, are here presented. XLV. DISCOVERT OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFOR- NIA.— 1848. Widely Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of tlie Precious Metal. — The News Spreads like Wild-fiie to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from All Countries. — Nucleus of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden Commonwealth of the American Union. — First Practical Discovery of the Gold. — On John A. Sutter's Land. — Found by J. W. Marshall. — Simple Accident that Led to It. — Marshall's Wild Excitement. — Shows Sutter the Golden Grains. — A Dramatic Interview. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it was Disclosed. — A Real Wonder of the Age. — Trials of the Early Emigrants. — Their Bones Whiten the Soil. — All Professions at the Mines — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. — Disordered State of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity, Fabulous Prices. — Mining by M.ichinery. — Order and Stability Keached. — Population in 1867, 6UO,000. — Gold in Ten Year<, $tiUO,000,000. " Gold to fetch, ond gold to seed. Gold to borrow, and gold to tend. Gold to keep, and gold to spend. And abundaDce of gold vijuturo.^ MlA'l^U Ol'EKATlONS IX CALlFOR^•lA. ITHOUT any exaggeration, it may be asserted that no modern event has been the canse of so much romance in real life, — no branch or sphere of trade, even though perfected by long experience, has called into employment so many of the uieins and instrumentalities of diversified human industry and commercial intercourse, — indeed, nothing within the memory of man, except the achievements of steam and the electric telegraph, approaches so nearly to magic, as the discovery of gold, in luxurious deposits, on the shores of the Pacific, and that, too, in the soil of a territory which, by inquest and purchase, had but just fallen, like fruit golden ripe, into the lap of the Great Republic. This discovery occurred at Sutter's mill, in Coloma county, California, in February, 1848. Here, however, it deserves to be stated as a matter of histori- - cal interest, that gold placers were worked in certain portions of California, long before the discovery just mentioned. Tho ^^^^^ - DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 361 evidence of tins appears in a letter ad- dressed by Abel Stearns, of Los Angeles, to Louis R. Lull, secretary of the Califor- nia Society of Pioneers. Mr. Stearns, who went to California from Mexico in 1829, states that on the 22d of November, 1842, he sent bj' Alfred Robinson — who returned from California to the states by way of Mexico — twenty ounces California weight, or eighteen and three-fourths ounces mint weight, of placer gold, to be forwarded by him to the United States mint at Phila- delphia; the mint assay was returned August 6, 1843. This gold was taken from placers first discovered in March, 1842, by Francisco Lopez, a Californiau, at San Francisquito, about thirty-five miles north-west from Los Angeles. It appears that Lopez, while resting in the shade with some companions, during a hunt for stray horses, dug up some wild onions with his sheath knife, and in the dirt discovered a piece of gold. Searching further, he found more pieces, and on returning to town an- nounced his discovery. A few persons, mostly Sonorians, who were accustomed to placer mining in Mexico, worked in the San Francisquito placer from this time until the latter part of 1846 (when the w^ar with the United States disturbed the country), taking out some six thousand to eight thousand dollars in value, per annum. The United States mint certificate for the assay made for Mr. Stearns in 1843, is now in the archives of the "Society- of Califor- nia Pioneers." Before the great event which made the year 1848 so memorable, the influence of the United States had already become con- spicuous in the affairs of California, and had in a degree prepared the way for what was to follow. In the words of a British writer, the United States spread her actual influence long before she planted a flag as the sign of her dominion. For two j'ears previous to the capture of Monterey, in 1846, her authority had been paramount in California. At length, toward the close of the summer of 1845, Fremont appeared in the neigliborhood of Monterey, whose parl;- like scenery — trees scattered in groujis over grass}' hills, wide sloping fields, plan- tations of oak and fir, red-tiled houses, yellow-washed church, and white cottages — showed in pleasant contrast to the deso- late region of the Rocky mountains he had left. He was accompanied by some of his trappers — men of muscle and daring, dressed in deer-skin coats, with formidable rifles, and mounted on tall, spare horses. They rode in Indian file through the out- skirts ; their leader viewed the town, and they vanished. Soon again he appeared, with an ominous array of thirty-five fol- lowers, encamped on a woody height ; was commanded to depart, was driven to the hills, pursued, and again lost sight of. An American ship then sailed into the harbor. Fremont was again at Monterey. The Californians foresaw the probable progress of events, and perhaps secretly desired the fostering protection of the great republic. While balancing between that and independence, two United States vessels simultaneously entered the harbors of Monterey and San Francisco, and in July, 1846, the whole of California came under the rule of America. A new era was again opened. An immediate change a2)peared. Industry was revived ; deserted villages were repeopled ; neglected lands were again cultivated ; decaj'ing towns were renovated ; and the busy hum of toil broke that silence and lethargy which brooded, over an ill-governed countrj'. But another and greater change was at hand, to turn the tide of her fortunes into a new, a wider, and more diffusive channel, and to raise California from the condition of a wild and isolated territory, to be the very focus of the world's attention, — the spot where innumerable streams of emigra- tion from the four quarters of the world, from barbarous and civilized countries, pouring across the Rocky Mountains, or brought over the sea, from distant shores, were to meet in tumultuous confluence, and, flowing upon each other, form an eddying whirlpool of excitement, such as few countries on the globe, in any period of their history, could {jresent to the ob- servation of mankind. 362 DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. What is the character of this region, independently of its newly discovered treasures, at the period mentioned? It is wealthy in many natural resources. Its extent is great. From Cape Mendocino, at the borders of the United States, to the root of the peninsula, is seven hundred miles, and Lower California thrusts out its vast tongue to an almost equal dis- tance. The old region is for the most part a broken, hilly, and barren tract of land ; but occasional plains of rich fertility alternate with the less favored tracts, and these formed the sites of the old Jesuit missions. Alta California extends from the coast to the provinces of New Mexico. Of the interior desert basin, little is known, except that it is a wild, rocky, and woody territory, watered by a few rivers, and lakes, rising periodically from the earth, and peopled by wandering Indian hordes. The Sierra Nevada, or snowy range, di- vides the gold region from the great des- ert basin; and between this and the sea lies another line of mountains, forming a valley five hundred miles in length, wa- tered by the Sacramento and the San Joachim. These streams, forming a junc- tion in the center of the valley, diverge toward the sea, and pour in an united current into the harbor of San Francisco — one of the noblest on the globe. The aspect of the country is diversified, and full of beauty. Green valleys, glittering lakes, and verdant hills, extend along the interior borders, backed by the rounded spires of the snowy range, whose deep ra- vines and caverns are just now peopled by toiling gold-hunters; and these are drawing more wealth from the bleakest, most bar- ren, and most neglected spots, than a hus- bandman in the course of many years could derive from the most luxuriantly cultivated land. Along the river banks, light grassy slopes alternate with stony, broken, sandy expanses, honey-combed as it were by time, but now swarming with amateur del vers. However, the country, as a ■whole, is fertile; producing readily grains, vegetables, and fruits, with fine timber, whilst immense pasture grounds afford nourishment to the flocks and herds that once formed the principal wealth of Cali- fornia. Uf to the year 1847, so comparatively small were the gatherings of gold, in various sections of the globe, that in DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 363 reckoning tte average produce of the pre- cious metal, of all parts of the New ami Old World for a series of years previous to 1847, it did not amount to the annual value of twenty-five million dollars. It was in September, 1847, that Captain John A. Sutter, the great pioneer settler in California, commenced an undertaking JOHN A. SOTTElt. which led, by a very simple and ordinary circumstance, to the first praetiral dis- covery of the j)ro(Ugioushj valuable gold mines of California — the long-sought El Dorado of ancient and modern times. This undertaking consisted in the erection of a saw-mill at Coloma, on a mountainous spot about one thousand feet above the level of the valley, where the Rio des los Americanos pours down from the Sierra Nevada to swell the united streams of the Sacramento and San Joachim. Such an enterprise, in such a region, at a time when the political and social con- dition of the country was so unsettled and uncertain, indicated a mind of energy and executive capacity, on the part of the projector. And it was even so, in full measure, in the case of Captain Sutter. He is described, by his biographers, in the annals of San Francisco, as an intelligent Swiss emigrant, who sailed for and reached New York, in July, 1834; but finally settled and for several years resided in Missouri. The wild west had always possessed a charm for him, and he had re- moved thither; but now his adventurous spirit looked still further towards the setting sun, and roved along the waters that sped their unknown way to the Pacific. Leav- ing family and home, in company with Sir William Drummond Stewart, he joined a party, under the charge of Captain Tripps, of the American Fur Company, and start- ed for the broad valleys of California, where he knew that rich and fertile lands only awaited an industrious cultivator, and where Providence had even a still richer yielding field that he knew not of. He left the trappers at their rendezvous on the Wind river among the Kansas Rocky mountains, and with a new party of six decided on proceeding to their destination by way of Oregon. Crossing the valley of the Willamette, he finally arrived at Fort Vancouver, and there ascertained that innumerable delays must elapse before he could reach California. Nothing daunted, and apparently urged, like Columbus, to accomplish his object despite of fate, Captain Sutter sailed for the Sandwich Islands, hoping to embark thence direct for the Spanish coast. But when he arrived there, no vessels were about to sail in that direction. Again he threw down the gauntlet to fate, and re-embarked for Sitka Island, in Russian America, and from that immense distance at last reached Yerba Buena, July second, 1839. Not permitted to land here, he again embarked, and was finally allowed to set foot on California soil at Monterey. Having suc- ceeded in overcoming the Spanish opposi- tion to foreign settlers, he obtained the permission of Governor Alvarado to locate himself in the valley of the Rio del Sacra- mento ; more readily granted, perhaps, because it was then the abode of savage Indians. He explored the Sacramento, Feather and American rivers, and in August, 1839, about eighteen months after he commenced his journey, permanently established himself on the latter river, with a colony of only three whites and eight Kanakas. In a short time, he re- moved to the location afterwards known as Sutter's Fort, and took possession of the surrounding country under a Mexican grant, giving to it the nnme of New 364 DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. Helvetia. From this point lie cut a road to tlie junction of tlie Sacramento and American rivers, where he established a quay or landing-place, on the site of which has since been built the city of Sacramento. Here he remained for several years, becom- ing possessor of a large amount of land, and rapidly carrying on various and ex- tensive imjirovements. At one time he had a thousand acres sown in wheat, and owned eight thousand neat cattle, two thousand horses and mules, as many sheep, and a thousand swine. He was appointed alcalde of the district by Commodore Stockton, and Indian agent by General Kearney ; and with all his sympathies with this country, his earnest wish was to see California brought into the American Union. Among the followers of Sutter was James W. Marshall, who emigrated from New Jersey to Oregon in 1843, and a year later went to California. By trade he was a carpenter, and to him Captain Sutter intrusted the erection of the saw- mill at Coloma, where good water-power and plenty of lumber had determined its location. It was this enterprise wliich led to the most famous discovery of gold ever liuown in the history of the globe. How this happened, has been differently related by different authorities, but perhaps by none more authentically than by Mr. Dunbar, president of the Traveller's Club of New York. The saw-mill was com- pleted in January, 1848, and they had just commenced sawing lumber, when, on the night of February 2d, Marshall appeared at Sutter's Fort, his horse in a foam and himself presenting a singular appearance — all bespattered with mud, and laboring under intense excitement. And now ensued a scene which can scarcely be exceeded in its elements of dramatic representation. Marshall imme- diately requested Captain Sutter to go with him into a room where they could be alone. This request was granted, and, after the door was closed, Marshall asked Captain Sutter if he was sure they would not be disturbed, and desired that the door might be locked. Captain Sutter did not know what to make of his actions, and he began to think it hazardous to lock himself in the room with Marshall, who appeared so uncommonly strange. Mar- shall being satisfied at last that they would not be interrupted, took from his pocket a pouch from which he poured upon the table about an ounce of yellow grains of metal, which he thought would prove to be gold. Captain Sutter inquired where he got it. Marshall stated that in the morning, the water being shut off from the saw-mill race, as was customary, he discovered, in passing through the race, shining particles here and there on the bottom. On examination, he found them to be of metallic substance, and the thought flashed over him that they might be gold. How hig with events was this 2>oint of time / Marshall stated that the laborers — white and Indian — had picked up some of the particles, and he thought a large quantity could be collected. Captain Sutter was at first quite incredulous as to these particles being gold, but happening to have a bottle of nitric acid among his stores, he applied the test, and, true enough, the yellow grains proved to be pure gold. The great discovery tvas made ! The account given above agrees sub- stantially with Captain Sutter's own narrative of the event, namely: That Marshall had contracted with him for the building of a saw-mill for producing lumber, on the south fork of the American River, a feeder of the Sacramento. In the course of his operations, Marshall had occasion to admit the river water into the tail-race, for the purpose of widening and deepening it by the strength of the current. In doing this, a considerable quantity of mud, sand, and gravel, was carried along with the stream, and deposited in a heap at the foot of the tail- race. Marshall, when one day examining the state of his works, noticed a few glittering particles lying near the edge of the heap. His curiosity being aroused, he gathered some of the sparkling objects; DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 365 and he at once became satisfied of their nature and the value of his discovery. All trembling with excitement, he hurried to his employer and told his story. Captain Sutter at first thought it was a fiction, and the teller only a mad fool. Indeed, he confesses that he keiit a sharp eye upon his loaded rifle, when he, whom he was tempted to consider a maniac, was eagerly disclosing the miraculous tale. However, his doubts were all at once dispelled when Marshall tossed on the table before him some of the shining dust. Not less interesting is the account given of the manner in which the discovery became public — owing, as appears by Mr. Dunbar's statement, to th.at which extracts both wit and wisdom, as well as folly, from the brain of man. After some examin- ation, Captain Sutter became satisfied that gold in considerable quantities would be found in that neighborhood; and while the reflections of Marshall were probably con- fined to the idea of rapidly acquired wealth for himself. Captain Sutter realized at once how impossible it would be to hold his laborers to their work in carrj-ing on his improvements, gathering his crops, and avoid being overrun by new-comers, should the gold prove abundant and the discovery be promulgated. He therefore begged the laborers to say nothing about the gold for six weeks. His grist-mill and some other improvements would then be completed, and his crops all gathered. The laborers promised to comply with his request, and Captain Sutter returned home on the fifth of February. But the great secret could not long be retained. A bottle of whiskey made it known. A teamster, whom Captain Sutter had dis- patched to the saw-mill with supplies, heard of the discovery of gold, and managed to obtain some of the precious grains. On returning to the fort, he immediately went to the neighboring store, kept by a Mormon, and demanded a bottle of whiskey. This was a cash article in that country, and, as the teamster was poor pay, the trader refused to sell him the whiskey. The man declared he had plenty of money, and exhibited some grains of gold. The astonished trader, on being satisfied that these were gold, gave his customer the bottle of whiskey, and earnestly inquired where he got the gold. The teamster refused to make known the secret till he had imbibed considerable of the liquor, when his tongue was loosened, and he told all about the discovery of gold at Sutter's mill. The wonderful talc spread like wild-fire throughout the sparsely inhabited territory of California. It ran up and down the Pacific coast, traversed the continent, reached the Atlantic shores, and in a short time the story of California's golden treasures had startled the whole civilized world. Naturally enough, the first rumors, as they spread abroad, were lightly tossed JAMES W. MARSHALL. aside ; but confirmation gave them strength, and as each transmission of intelligence to the United States carried fresh accounts of new discoveries, an enthusiastic ardor was awakened, and within four months of that eventful day, five thousand persons were delving on the river's banks, on the slopes, amid the ravines, hollows, and caverns in the valley of the Sacramento. And now, from the vast population of the great republic, new streams of emigra- tion broke at once to swell that current which for years had set noiselessly toward the valleys of California. Gradually, the knowledge of the auriferous soil was borne to the four quarters of the world, and from 368 DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. all the ports of all nations sails were spread toward the coasts of that wealthy region. As by a magnetic impulse, the sands of the Sacramento attracted popular tion. Lawyers, clergymen, physicians, hotel-keepers, merchants, mechanics, clerks, traders, farmers, left their occupa- tions, and hurried with basket and spade to the land that glittered. Homes and houses were closed ; the grass threatened to grow over whole streets ; deserted ships swung on their anchors in silent harbors. The garrison of Monterey abandoned arms and took up the pickaxe and the shovel. Trains of wagons constantly streamed from the coast to the interior. Stores and sheds were built along the river bank, and crammed with provisions to be sold at more than famine prices; whole towns of tents and bushy bowers sprang up as if by magic ; every dawn rose upon a motley toiling multitude, swarming in every nook and corner of the modern El Dorado, and every night was illuminated by the flames of a thousand bivouacs. Half-naked Indians, sharp-visaged Yan- kees in straw hats and loose frocks, groups of swarthy Spanish-Americans, old Dons in the gaudy costume of a dead fashion, gigantic trappers with their rude jirairie garb, and gentlemen traders from all the States of the Union, with crowds of Californian women, jostled in tumultuous confusion through the gold district. Every method, from the roughest to the most ingenious, was devised for the rapid accumulation of gold ; and the strange spectacle was presented of a vast pojjula- tion, without law, without authority, with- out restraint, toiling together in amicable companionship. But the duration of this condition of things was brief. Outrages were perpetrated, robbery commenced, blood was shed, and anarchy in its most hideous form appeared. But the United States government soon laid the founda- tions of order, and prepared a system of regular legislation for California. A severe code was established; thieving in- curred the heavy penalty of a brand on the cheek, with mutilation of the ears ; other crimes were punished with similar rigor. Within a period of five months, the population of the territory had run up to one hundred thousand, having just quad- rupled during that time. Of these, some forty-five thousand arrived in the nine thousand wagons that traversed the over- land route, and four thousand on mule- back, while the remainder came via Panama, and round Cape Horn. One- third of this multitude was composed of farmers, another of tradesmen and me- chanics, and the rest of merchants, pro- fessional men, adventurers, and gamblers. The vast emigrant armies acted as pioneers on their various routes, hewing down trees, filling up chasms, leveling the grounds, and bridging torrents. But the sufferings endured in these colossal cara- vans were severe and terrible. Many perished on the route ; many became in- sane, or wasted away, through lack of food and water. The scourge of cholera also overtook the early emigrants, before they were fairly embarked on the wilderness ; the frequent rains of the early spring, added to the hardships and exposure of their travel, prepared the way for its ravages, and the first four hundred miles of the trail were marked by graves, to the iminber of about four thousand. Many also suffered immensely for want of food. Bayard Taylor, in his narrative of what befell these pioneer emigrants, says that not only were they compelled to kill their horses and mules to keep themselves from starvation, but it was not unusual for a mess by way of variety to the tough mule steaks, to kill a quantity of rattlesnakes, with which the mountains abounded, and have a dish of them fried for supper. And still the tide of emigration rolled onward, as the richness of the gold product, over so vast a region of territory, became a confirmed fact. Notwithstand- ing the oft-told story of deprivation, famine and death, parties and companies dail^' went forth to El Dorado, the golden land. Some took the perilous inland route across the Rocky mountains ; some went DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 367 round Cape Horn ; and multitudes took the Panama route. The tens of thousands who thus went, having no other object than to get gold, had neither means nor inclination to grow their own food nor to manufacture their own necessaries ; and hence arose a field of enterprise which the commercial world did not neglect. Valu- able cargoes were dispatched to San Fran- cisco to be there sold in exchange for gold dust, and that place in time became a populous, busy, thriving city, distinguished also for reckless speculation, fabulous prices for real estate, excesses of all kinds, and disastrous conflagrations. During one week in 1850, gold dust to the value of three million dollars was shijjped and exported from San Francisco. In August of the same year the monthly shipment had reached about eight million dollars. On September 15, 1850, there were in that port six hundred and eighty-four vessels, belonging to twenty-one different nations ; some of these vessels, small in size, had crossed the whole breadth of the Pacific from Australia and New Zealand, to ex- change their produce for gold dust. In the first two weeks of October, in the same year, ninety-four vessels arrived at San Francisco, not including the regular steamers. But the most strange and wonderful spectacle of all, was that exhibited by the money-diggers at their avocation. Men with long-handled shovels delved among clumps of bushes, or by the side of large rocks, never raising their eyes for an instant; others, with pick and shovel, worked among stone and gravel, or with trowels searched under banks and roots of trees, where, if rewarded with small lumps of gold, their eyes suddenly kindled with pleasure, and the search was more intently pursued. In the water, knee, or even waist deep, regardless of the shiver- ing cold, others were washing the soil iu the tin pans or the common cradle rocker, whilst the sun poured a hot flood upon their heads. The common rocking machine for separating the gold was at first in great demand, but this was soon superseded by a cradle of ingenious construction ; then came crushing mills, of various kinds, for pounding the auriferous quartz ; and in time, machinery of the most effective adaptability was universally introduced. This operated powerfully to regulate min- ing operations, and to give order and stability to affairs generally throughout the territory. Society assumed the most advanced organization, churches every- where dotted the land, education was fostered, and the political institutions of the country patterned after those of the older states. Agricultural, industrial, and commercial pursuits were entered upon largely and with great success ; California was admitted as a state into the Union in 1850 ; and in only ten years from Mar- shall's curious and accidental discovery of gold at Sutter's mill, in 1848, the gold product of California had reached a total of six hundred million dollars, and the population had increased from between twenty and thirty thousand souls to six hundred thousand ! XLVL AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE "ANGEL OF DEATH."— 1849. Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods.— Friglitful Mortality and Panic in 1849.— Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation by the President of the United States.— Tlie Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Human Nature Strikingly Illus- trated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the Earth. — Various Eras of American Epidemics. — Wide and Ghastly Ravages. — Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Sus- pended. — Ties of affection Sundered — Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives — Rich Men Buried like Paupers. — Money and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead-Carts. — Activity in the Grave-yards — They Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Screams for Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Patient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive — Courageous Marriages. — Death in the Bridal Chamber. — Anecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease — Quacks and Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar." "Bring out your dead 1"— CRT of the Dead-Cabt DKIVEn^^. STRUCK WITH TUE CHOLERA, UAKER order, cleanliness, and temperance, so characteristic of the "citj' of brotherly love," did not save Pliiladelphia from being vis- ited, at an early period after tlie founding of the republic, by one of the most direful scourges that ever was known in the western world. This was the yellow fever, or "plague," in 1793, an epidemic which, from its remarkable nature and development, is entitled to tlie first mention in an article like this, and reminiscences of 1 — deeply interesting and indeed in gome instances almost tragical — will be found in the highest degree readable, at the present day. Following this, was the malignant spotted fever, in which the patient had large red spots here and there ; it broke out in Massachusetts, in 1806. and continued until 1815. in the various northern states. In 1812, the United States army in New York and Vermont suffered se- verely from it. In the latter state, it was the most alarming disease ever known. It usually attacked persons of the most hardy and robust constitution, and often proved fatal in a few hours ; not uncommonly, the patient was a corpse before a physician could be brought to his assistance. In 1822, the yellow fever appeared again in New York, with great virulence, after an inter- YELLOW FEVER AJSTD CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 369 mission of some seventeen years, and though the mortality was much less exten- sive than previously, the panic was even sharper, — the city south of the park being fenced off and nearly deserted, families, merchants, banks, and even the city gov- ernment removing to a distance. But in 1833-5, the disease was far more virulent. In 1832, the Asiatic cholera, or cholera asphyxia, made its appearance in the United States for the first time, coming by way of Canada. Following the course of the large rivers, it soon reached Buffalo, and then spread irregularly', occurring in towns and cities at distances from each other, without affecting intervening dis- tricts till a subsequent period. In the city of New York, it appeared June 27th, and continued two months, during which period there were three thousand four hun- dred deaths. In Albany, it showed itself at the same time as in New York ; and while its fury was abating in the latter place, it began to appear in its most for- midable shape in Philadelphia, and in a few weeks a thousand fell victims. About the same mortality occurred in Baltimore and Washington, which cities the con- tagion soon reached. It commenced in Cincinnati in Julj', became epidemic in September, and continued through most of the summer of 1833. In the southern states, it made great havoc amongst the slave population, who fell ready and easy subjects of its power. Fatal, beyond all precedent, was the malady, in New Orleans and St. Louis. The middle states never before knew so terrible a visitation. From the north, the disease also ex- tended itself along the borders of the great lakes, and soon its ravages began at Detroit. The six eastern states escaped with only a few cases, principally in the port towns of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. And now again, this awful scourge re- appeared, in 1849, to blast the land with death on every side, carrying terror to every home and heart, and sweeping tens of thousands into the grave. In New Orleans, it broke out about the middle of 24 December, 1848, and continued through the winter. So frightful were its devastar tions, that it is estimated to have deci- mated the inhabitants that remained in some wards of the city. The raging pesti- lence appeared in New York in Maj', and, so violent was its spread, that during the week ending July 21st, more than seven hundred deaths occurred ; the mortality that week was the greatest that had ever taken place in anj' city in the United States, the deaths by all diseases number- ing more than fourteen hundred. In Boston, the deaths from cholera, during June, July, August, and September, were rising six hundred. But it was far more terrible in Cincinnati and St. Louis, the victims in each of these cities being up- wards of six thousand. Over all the mid- dle and western states, this Angel of Death spread his destroying wings, and in many parts of New England. The third day of August, 1849, was, in view of the terrible scourge thus stalking mightily over the broad land, appointed by the president of the United States as a day of fasting and praj'er, that God would " avert the pesti- lence that walketh in darkness and the destruction that wastetb at noonday." Again, in 1853, terror and panic seized the land, from another visitation of the j-ellow fever or plague. It spent its chief force upon that oft-doomed city. New Or- leans, where, in the short space of three months, ten per cent, of the whole popu- lation fell victims. Concerning the origin, or producing causes, of these epidemics, authorities have differed so widely, that little of a conclusive character, on these points, can be presented ; and the same may be said respecting the modes of treatment. Much, however, that is interesting as well as profitable, relative to these awful visita- tions, may be learned from the various phenomena and incidents that accompa- nied them. In no other place, perhaps, were the manifestations and effects of a deathly epidemic upon human conduct exhibited more strikingly than in the city of Phila- 370 YELLOW FEVER A^D CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. delphia. The dread of the contagion drove parents from their children, and even wives from their husbands. All the ties of affection and consanguinity were rent asunder, and humanity was left to mourn over its own selfishness, in the ardor of self-preservation. Such was the degree of consternation, dismay and affright, which possessed people's minds, that, according to Mr. were afraid to allow the barbers or hair- dressers to come near them, as instances had occurred of some of them having shaved the dead, and many having en- gaged as bleeders. Some, who carried their caution pretty far, bought lancets for themselves, not daring to allow them- selves to be bled with the lancets of the bleeders. Many houses were scarcely a moment free from the smell of gunpowder, OSUMENT TO TUE VICII.MS OF CHOLERA. Carey, the historian of that period, most of the inhabitants who could, by any means, make it convenient, fled from the citj'. Of those who remained, many shut themselves up in their houses, being afraid to walk the streets. The smoke of tobacco being regarded as a preventive, many persons, even women and small boys, had segars almost constantly in their mouths. Others, placing full confidence in garlic, chewed it almost the whole day ; some kept it in their pockets and shoes. Many burned tobacco, sprinkled vinegar, etc. Churches, libraries, and other places of public resort, were closed. Those persons who ventured abroad had handkerchiefs, or sponges, impregnated with vinegar or camphor, at their noses ; some had smell- ing bottles full of thieves' vinegar. Others carried pieces of tarred rope in their hands and pockets, also camphor bags tied around their necks. The corpses of the most re- spectable citizens, even of those who had not died of the epidemic, were carried to YELLOW FEVEE A^D CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 371 the grave on the shafts of a chair, the horse driven by a negro, unattended by a friend or relation, and without any sort of cere- nion}-. People uniformly and hastily shift- ed their course at the sight of a hearse coming towards them. Man}- never walked on the foot-path, but went in the middle of the streets, to avoid being infected in jiassing houses wherein people had died. Acquaintances and friends avoided each other in the streets, and only signified their regard bj' a cold nod. The old custom of shaking hands fell into such general disuse, that many recoiled with affright at even the offer of a hand. A person wearing crape, or hai'ing any other appearance of mourning, was shunned like a vijser ; and many congratulated them- selves highly on the skill and address with which they got to windward of every person whom they met. "When, too, the citizens, summoning sufficient resolution, walked abroad to take the air, the sight of the sick-cart conveying patients to the hospital, or the hearse carrying the dead to the grave, — which were traveling al- most the whole day, — soon damped their spirits, and caused them to retrace their steps and seek seclusion. These manifest- ations and characteristics prevailed alike during the yellow fever and the cholera. Consternation was carried bej'ond all bounds. Men of affluent fortunes were abandoned to the care of any stranger, black or white, who could by entreaty be procured. In some cases, no money or influence could procure proper attendance. With the poor, the case was, of course, immeasurably worse than with the rich. Many of them perished, without a human being to hand them a drink of water, or to perform any medical or charitable office. Some of the horrible and heart-rending occurrences, which transpired during these visitations of yellow fever and cholera, will suffice better than any discussions of symptoms and treatment, or any mere general representations of the public ter- ror and panic, to show the nature of the calamities that thus sv,'ept over the land, carrying desolation and anguish to so many happj' homes. The following are some of the instances referred to, as rela- ted by Carey, Simpson, and others. An old grave digger, named Sebastian, who had long lost the sense of smelling, fancied he could not take the disorder, and therefore followed his business without apprehension. A husband and his wife, who lay sick together, wished to be in- terred in the same grave. Their deaths happened within a few days of each other. When the latter of the two was to be buried, Sebastian was employed to dig open the other's grave. He struck upon and broke the coffin, and in stooping down, inhaled such an intolerable and deadly stench, that he was taken sick immedi- ately, and in a day or two died. A man and his wife, once in affluent circumstances, weic found lying dead in bed, and between them was their child, a little infant, who was sucking its mother's breast. How long they had lain thus, was uncertain. Peculiar in its sadness, was the case of a woman, whose husband had just died of the disease ; she was seized with the pains of parturition, and had nobody to assist her, as the women in the neighborhood were afraid to go into the house. She lay, for a considerable time, in a condition of anguish truly indescribable ; at length, she struggled to reach the windo^v, and cried out for assistance. Two men, pass- ing by, went up stairs ; but they came at too late a stage — for she was even then striving with death — and actually, in a few minutes, expired in their arms. Another woman, whose husband and two children lay dead in the room with her, was in the same situation as that of the woman just described, — without a mid- wife, or any other person to aid her. Her cries at the window brought up one of the carters employed for the relief of the sick. With his assistance she was delivered of a child, which died in a few minutes, as did the mother, who was utterly ex- hausted by her labor, on account of the disorder, and by the dreadful spectacle before her. And thus la}', in one room, 372 YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. no less than five dead bodies, an entire family, carried off within a few hours. Before arrangements could be made and carried out, by the public authorities, to mitigate the severities pf the scourge, many fell victims, whose lives would oth- erwise, probably, have been saved. A servant girl, belonging to a family in which the malady had prevailed, becom- ing apprehensive of what might be her own fate, resolved to remove to a relation's house, some distance in the country. She was, however, taken sick on the road, and returned to town, where she could find no person willing to receive her. One of the inquired into the state of affairs. The other, to indulge the contemptible pro- pensity of hoaxing, told him, that a coffin- maker, who had been employed by the committee for the relief of the sick, had found such a decrease of demand two weeks before, that he had a large supply of coffins on hand ; but that the mortality had again so far increased, that he had sold all, and had seven journeymen em- ployed day and night. Alarmed at this information, the merchant and his family instantly turned back. Several instances occurred, of the drivers of the hospital wagons, on their arrival to nORKORS OF THE GREAT EPIDEMIC. guardians of the poor provided a cart, and took her to the almshouse, into which she was refused admittance. She was brought back, but the guardian could not procure her a single night's lodging ; and at last, after every effort to procure some kind of shelter, the unfortunate creature abso- lutely expired in the cart. Of the various incidents partaking of the extravagant and farcical, much might be related, A merchant of Philadelphia, who had been absent for several weeks, was returning to the city in the second week of November, having heard that the danger was no more. He met a man on the road going from the city, and naturally deliver up their charge, finding, to their amazement, the wagons empty. A lunatic, who had the malignant disorder, was ad- vised, by his neighbors, to go to the fever hospital. He consented, and got into the cart; but soon changing his mind, he slipped out at the end, unknown to the carter, who, after a while, missing him, and seeing him at a distance running away, turned his horse about, and trotted hard after I.'.-. The other doubled his pace, and the carter whipped his horse to a gallop ; but the agile lunatic turned a corner, and adroitly hid himself in a house, leaving the mortified carter to return, and deliver an account of his ludicrous adventure. YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 373 The wife of a man who lived in "Walnut street, Philadelphia, was seized with the disease, and given over by tlie doctors. The husband abandoned her, and next night lay out of the house for fear of catch- ing the infection. In the morning, taking it for granted, from the very low state she had been in, that she was dead, he pur- chased a ooffin for her ; but on entering the house, what was his astonishment to find her much recovered. He himself, however, fell sick shortly after, died, and was buried in tiie very coffin which he had so precipitately bought for his wife. An- other example under this class, though with one or two important points of differ- ence, is the following : A woman, whose husband died, refused to have him buried in a coffin provided for her by one of her friends, as too paltry and mean ; she there- fore bought an elegant and costly one, and had the other laid by in the yard. In a week she was herself a corpse, and was buried in the very coffin she had rejected. The jxjwers of the god of love might be imagined to lie dormant amidst such scenes of distress as were exhibited at the hos- pitals, during this period. But his sway was felt there with equal force as any- where else. Thus it was, that John John- son and Priscilla Hicks, two patients in the public hospital, who had recovered, and then officiated as nurses to the sick, were smitten with each other's charms, and, procuring leave of absence for an hour or two, went to the city, were joined in the bands of matrimony, and returned to their avocation at the hospital. Another adven- ture of the same kind, was that of Nassy, a Portuguese mulatto, who took to wife Hannah Smith, a bouncing German girl, employed, like himself, as a nurse. An instance of similar attachment is related as having occurred in New Orleans, when the epidemic was at its height, and the whole city was sunk in grief and mourn- ing. A smiling happy couple appeared one morning before a Catholic clergyman, and requested him to proclaim the bans of their marriage the next day. The rever- end gentleman was surprised that any persons should desire to get married at such a time of general misery and distress, and urged the couple that they should postpone it until the epidemic was over. But they declined doing so, and the priest, indignant at what he considered ill-timed levity, turned awaj-, and positively refused to officiate in their behalf, stating that he was too busy attending the sick and ad- ministering the last consolations to the dj'ing. The impatient j)air next proceeded to the clergyman of St. Patrick's, who exhibited a like surprise at the urgency of the parties, and at first refused to sanction such a marriage, but yielded at last to their importunities. After due publica- tion of the bans they were married, and retired to their new home to spend the honeymoon. In a few days, the bridal chamber presented a solemn and affecting spectacle^ The dead body of the husband lay on a couch, and the young and lovely bride writhed in agony on the bed ; she quickly followed him, and their honeymoon was passed in another world. Notwithstanding the devotedness and self-sacrifice of the clergy, generallj' speak- ing, during these calamities, and the number who thus lost their lives, there was occasionally an exception. An anec- dote, illustrating this fact, used to be related by the Hon. Edward Livingston, who was mayor of New York, while the plague raged in that city, and which will bear repetition : The violence of the epi- demic was beginning to abate; its attacks were indeed not less numerous than before, but the proportion of its victims was daily diminishing. I had a few minutes at my own disposal (says Livingston), and I had gone one evening, in a carriage, a short distance from the city, to breathe the pure air of the countrj', when I met on the road, at the very moment when I was about to return toward the city, a protestant minis- ter — married, and the father of a numerous family. He, like the rest of his co-laborers, had fled the fatal contagion. He was a man truly pious, of exemplary life, and presenting in his own person to his flock an esamjjle of the Christian virtues which 374 YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. he preached to them with sincerity and eloquence. And yet, in the hour of danger, he had not remained, but had fled, — not for himself, — he had been carried away by the panic with which his family were seized. He asked — " What is going on in town, Edward ? Is the sickness abating ? " " We are doing all we can, my reverend friend. We are taking care of the sick. The physicians are discharging most nobly their glorious mission — but what can we do for men's souls? The proper material succors abound, for never was charity more lavish of its offerings ; but the bread of the Word is wanting. The wretched ask in vain for those phj-sicians of the mind dis- eased, whose consolations can cure the wounds of the spirit and rob death of its terrors. Well — what do you s.ay ? Here is room for you in my carriage. Come in ! — the ripe harvest is falling to the ground, and there are no reapers to gather it." The reverend gentleman pressed Liv- ingston's hand — pointed to his wife and children who were at the door of a small house near the road — and walked away In silence. Had he belonged to any other profession, his anxiety for his family might well have excused him for sharing in that feeling of terror which, seizing like a panic upon all hearts, bid fair to depopulate the city. It was, indeed, a spectacle of sadness calculated to app.al the stoutest heart — the mournful gloom of those empty streets, their silence broken only by the rumbling of the doad-cart and the driver's hoarse cry, "Bring out j'our dead ! " — those houses loft open and fully furnished, from which the owners had fled — that forest of shipping, deserted and silent as those of the western wilds, — the heart recoiled from such sights and con- tacts. On the masts of some of these ves- sels hung still the unfurled sail. On the wharves, too, might often be seen the bales of merchandise which terror had left there. There was no danger of their being carried off. Death was uppermost in men's minds ; business was forgotten ; the grave- yards looked like ploughed fields. But the anecdote of Livingston and the clerical friend is well offset by one related of the Rev. Mr. Whitall, a well-known Episcopal clergyman of New Orleans. Walking on the levee in pursuit of objects of charity, one day at noon, during the epidemic period, he was attracted to a number of laborers collected around some object. Elbowing his way through the crowd, Mr. Whitall found a poor laborer lying on the ground, violently sick with the prevailing disease, exposed to the sun, and suffering extremely. The crowd, though pitying his condition, appeared to be either too much frightened to render him any aid, or ignorant of how they could relieve him. But the experienced Samaritan did not long consider his duty on such an occasion. Seizing one of the wheelbarrows used in carrying bales of cotton from the wharves to the ships, he rolled it up alongside the sick man, and laj-ing him gently in it, wheeled his poor patient to the nearest hospital, and there secured for him such attendance as finally led to his recovery. As is usual, in times of threatened epi- demic, the authorities of most of the prin- cipal cities made due provision to avert its approach, by stringent sanitary regula- tions, or, failing in this, established hospi- tals for the sick, retreats in the suburbs for those residing in the infected districts, and liberal ajipropriations of food and money for the thousands of persons thrown out of employment at such a crisis. In some instances, these resolute proceedings were objected to. A few persons refused to go, and one man, who had been forcibly removed, returned clandestinely and shut himself in his house ; his foolish obstinacy was not discovered until he was found dead in the place he was so unwilling to leave. Several merchants, too, laughing at the precautions of the authorities, persisted in visiting their counting-houses situated in the dangerous localities; their death atoned for their rashness. Among the women, the mortality was not so great as among the men, nor among the old and infirm as among the middle- YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS, 37-5 aged and robust. Tipplers and drunkards, as well as gourmands, were very suscepti- ble to the disorder ; of these, many were seized, and the recoveries were very rare. To men and women of illicit pleasure, it was equally fatal ; the wretched, debilitated state of their constitutions, produced by lust and excess, rendered them an easy prey to epidemic disease, which very soon termi- nated their miserable career. A vast num- ber of female domestics likewise fell victims. Dreadful was the destruction among the poor; indeed, it is computed that at least seven-eighths of the number of the dead were of that class. The occupants of filthy houses severely expiated their neg- lect of cleanliness and decency. Whole families, in such houses, sunk into one silent, undistinguishing grave. The mor- tality in confined streets, small allej-s, and close houses, debarred of a free circulation of air, greatly exceeded that in the large streets and well-aired houses. Of the committee appointed in Phila- delphia for the relief of the sick, it is related by one of their number, as a fact of peculiar physiological interest, that sev- eral of its members declared that some of the most pleasurable hours of their exist- ence were spent during the heighth of the fever. They were released from the cares of business ; their committee duties fully occupied their minds, and engrossed their attention for the entire day ; they went to the State-house — the place of meeting — in the morning, after an early breakfast ; took a cold collation there at dinner-time, the materials of which were constantly spread on a sideboard ; and there they remained till night, when they returned to their families; custom robbed the situ- ation of its terrors. The only interruption to this state of their feelings, arose from the death of some friend or intimate ac- quaintance, or of some person whom they had perhaps seen alive a few hours or a day before. But even these sad impres- sions, though for the time strong and afflictive, soon wore away, and the tran- quil state returned. Empiricism and quackery were not in- active, even in times like these ; and the cholera was no exception among those " ills to which flesh is heir," for the cure of which charlatans had their " unfailing specific." But of all the nostrums thus brought forward, the " Vinegar of Four Thieves " was the most universal. A story was tied to its tail which gave it a popularity : Centuries ago, a dreadful plague raged in Marseilles. The people fled ; the city was visited by no ona except four thieves, who daily entered, robbed the houses, and carried their plun- der to the mountains. The astonished citizens, who had hid themselves in the dens and caves of the earth, for fear of the plague, saw them daily pass and re-pass with their ill-gotten gear, and wondered most profoundly why the plague did not seize them. In process of time, however, one of these thieves was captured ; they were just going to break him on the wheel, when he said if they would spare his life he would teach them to make the vinegar of four thieves, by means of which they had escaped the plague when robbing the citj', — a request which was granted. The "secret" thus imparted, modern quacks claimed to make use of in the preparation of a panacea for the cholera ! Of course the venders got rich, for, during the epi- demic, multitudes credulouslj' believed in the efficiency' of smelling thieves' vinegar, and treated their noses accordingly. Terribly as some of the cities of the United States have suffered from epidem- ics, they bear no comparison in this respect to the devastations by cholera in the cities of London and Paris, — in the latter of which, with true French sensibil- ity, the people have erected one of the finest monuments commemorative of the unfortunate victims. XL VII. MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLION- AIRE OF BOSTON. BY PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF HARVARD COLLEGE.— 1849. High Social Position of tht x-'arties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the Community, on the Discovery of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances Leading to the Murderer's Detection — Solemn and Exciting Trial — Account of the Mortal Blow and Disposal of the Remains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame — Mysterious Disappear- ance, November 23. — Appointment with Professor Webster, tliat Day. — Their Unhappy Pecuniary Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Parkman's Brother. — Explains the Interview of November 23. — No Trace of Parkman after that Date. — The Medical College Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea-Chest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains Found There. — Identified as Dr. Parkman's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on the Spot. — Behavior in Court. — His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly Addresses the Jury. — Asserts His Entire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime — Hung near the Spot of His Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel Adams. "It dnth seem too bloody. First, to cut off the Itcad. then hack the limbsf like wrath in death, and lilahce ofterwarda." EMORABLE, almost beyond a parallel, in the crim- inal annals of Amei-ica, is the great crime which finds its record in the following pages. The posi- tion of the parties, in their social and professional relations, the nature of the proof, and, indeed, all the circumstances of the case, invest the deed with a universal and permanent interest. On Friday, the twenty-third of November, 1849, Dr. George Parkman, one of the wealthiest and best known citizens of Boston, of an old family, and highly respected, one of the founders of the Massa- chusetts Medical College there, about sixty years of PBOF. wr.nsTru'.s murder appliances, age, of rather remarkable person and very active habits, was walking about the city, and transacting business as usual — one of his last acts, on that day, being the purchase of some lettuce for the dinner of his invalid daugh- ter ; the only other members of his family being his wife, and one son, who was then traveling on the continent of Europe. Being one of the most punctual of men, his absence from the family table at half-past three o'clock excited surprise ; and on the evening of the same day there was serious apprehension, his absence still continuing unexplained. It was thought best to postpone all public search until Saturday after- MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN. •6T noon ; at two o'clock, therefore, there being no tidings of him, a most vigorous and minute search was instituted by his friends, with the aid of the police force of Boston and of advertisements offering large rewards for such intelligence as should lead to his discovery. He was described as sixty j-ears of age, about five feet and nine inches high, gray hair, thin face, with a scar under the chin, light com- plexion, and usually a rapid walker; he was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark pan- taloons, purple silk vest, dark figured black stock, and black hat. The search was continued without intermission until the following Friday', men being sent in all directions for fifty or sixty miles, on all the railroads, to all the towns on the coast ; they searched over land and water, and under water. It was known the next Sunday follow- ing his disappearance, that on the previous Friday, at half-past one o'clock, Doctor Parkman had, by appointment, met with Dr. John W. Webster (Professor of Chem- istry in Harvard University, and Lecturer on Chemistry in the Medical College, Bos- ton,) in his rooms at the Medical College, and no further trace could be found ; the fact of this interview having been first communicated by Professor Webster. The nature of this interview, and the circumstances under which it took place, may be here stated. In 1842, Doctor Park- man had lent Professor Webster, on his promissory note, four hundred dollars, and in 1847 a further advance was made to Professor Webster bj' Doctor Parkman and some other parties, in acknowledgment of which there was a promissory note given Doctor Parkman for two thousand four hun- dred and thirty-two dollars, payable by yearly installments in four years ; a balance due on a former note, to the amount of three hundred and thirty-two dollars, being included. Doctor Parkman had held two mortgages ; one to secure the four hundred dollar note, which was given in 1842, and another which secured that note, and the other large note given in 1847. The mortgage which was given in 1847, covered all Professor Webster's household furniture, his books, and all his minerals, and other objects of natural history. That cabinet, however, he secretly disposed of, so that all that was left to secure that mortgage was the household furniture, and what books he may have had. From a memorandum, prepared in April, 1849, it was shown that the amount of Professor Webster's debt to Doctor Parkman was, at that time, four hundred and fifty-six dol- lars, being made up of three items due at different times. Doctor Parkman had for some time pressed urgently for the balance due to himself, and there were frequent and by no means friendly communications between the parties on the subject. The account given by Professor Web- ster to the Rev. Dr. Francis Parkman — with whom he was on intimate terms, having formerly been a member of his congregation, and having very recently received from him pastoral offices, — of the last interview with his missing brother, was, that he called upon Doctor Parkman at half-past nine o'clock on the morning of Friday, Noveu:ber twenty-third, and ar- ranged that tne doctor should meet him at the college at half-past one ; that Doctor Parkman came at that hour, having some papers in his hand, and received from Professor Webster four hundred and eighty-three dollars, and some odd cents, upon which Doctor Parkman took out one of the notes, and hurriedly dashing his pen across the signature, went away in great haste, leaving the note behind him, saying, as he left the room, that he would have the mortgage canceled. On the last interview between them in the presence of any witness, and which took place in the col- lege on the previous Mondaj', Doctor Park- man indignantly complained to Professor Webster that the cabinet of minerals, which was mortgaged to him in security of the advances he made, had been afterwards fraudulently sold to his brother-in-law, Mr. Robert G. Shaw ; and to another person he made some very severe remarks in rela- tion to this transaction, substantially, if not in express terms, charging Professor 378 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAE". Webster with dishonesty. At parting, Doc- tor Parkman is reported to have said with much energy, "something must be done to-morrow!" The following day. Profes- sor Webster sent a note to Doctor Park- man, in response to which tlie doctor went out to Cambridge, on Thursday, to Profes- sor Webster's house. Every clue discovered led the searchers back to the medical college in Boston, and there ended ; no person being to be found who had spoken with Doctor Parkman after his interview with Professor Webster. Along with other buildings, the college was searched ; first on Monday — slightly, and merely by way of excuse for searching other houses in the neighborhood, — and again upon Tuesday, but with no serious suspicions and with no discovery, Profes- sor Webster cheerfully accompanying the oflScers through his own apartments. In the meantime, another investigation had been going on in the hands of Little- field, the janitor of the college, who had as early as Sunday evening begun to enter- tain suspicions, which all his subsequent assiduous watching increased, and which led to the discovery, upon Friday, in the laboratorj', and in a vault connected with it, of certain human remains, believed to be those of Doctor Parkman, and to the apprehension and ultimately to the trial of Professor Webster on the charge of murder. It was a case, in comparison with which, those of Hare, Averj-, Robin- son, Strang, Ward, Washburn, Thomas, and Rogers, appear but ordinary. The premises in the medical college used by Professor Webster, consisted of a lec- ture-room in front; an upper laboratory behind the lecture-room, furnished with a stove, water and a sink, and a small room adjoining, where chemical materials were kept These were on the first floor. On the basement story there was a lower lab- oratory, reached by a staircase from the upper one ; this contained an assay fur- nace, was provided with water and a sink, had a store-room adjoining, and a private closet, with an opening into a vault at the base of the building, into which vault the sea-water had access through the stones of the wall, which had been some years before slightly pushed out of their original position. Into this vault there was no opening except that in the private closet. After all the other parts of the college had been repeatedly searched without success, the janitor resolved to make an examina- tion of this vault, which he effected by secretly breaking a hole through the brick and lime wall, at a point almost directly under the private closet, taking care to work only during Professor Webster's absence. On the afternoon of Friday, the thirtieth of November, exactly a week after Doctor Parkman's disappearance, the opening was made ; and there were discovered, lying in the vault, parts of a male human body. These consisted of the pelvis or hip bones, the right thigh from the hip to the knee, and the left leg, from the knee to the ankle. In consequence of this disclosure. Pro- fessor Webster was immediately appre- hended; and a more careful search was made in the laboratory on the next and the following days, which resulted in fur- ther discoveries. Buried among tan in a tea-chest, and covered with specimens of minerals, there were found a large hunt- ing-knife ; a thorax or chest, with both clavicles and scapulae attached, and having a perforation in the region of the heart ; and a left thigh, to which a piece of string MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN. 379 was fastened. In the ashes of the furnace, also, were found grains of gold, a pearl shirt button, a human tooth, blocks of mineral teeth, and about fifty fragments of bone belonging to the skull, face, and other parts of the human body. There was also found in the laboratory a large double-edged sheath-knife — called also a Turkish knife — a small saw, a hammer, and some other articles. In arresting Professor Webster, three of the Boston police proceeded at night, under the direction of Mr. Clapp, in a coach, to his residence in Cambridge, on knocking at the door of which and inquir- ing for the professor, the account of what transpired is as follows : That he came for- ward to see what was wanted ; we told him that we wanted him to go with us and as- sise at one more search of the medical col- lege. He said something about its hav- ing been searched two or three times before, but was very willing to accompany us, and putting off his slippers, drew on his boots, and came out. Just as we started, he remarked that he had forgotten iis keys, and would go back and get them ; he was told that they had keys enough to unlock all the rooms in the college, and it would not be necessary for him to go back after them — he said it was very well, and got into the coach. The driver turned toward Boston, and on the way Professor Webster conversed on indifferent subjects. The conversation finally fell upon the dis- appearance of Doctor Parkman. Profes- sor Webster remarked that a Mrs. Bent, of Cambridge, had seen Doctor Parkman at a very late hour on the Friday evening when he disappeared, and he said as she lived near the bridge, it might be well to call and see her ; this was declined, with the reply that they could go some other time. On the party coming over the bridge, Professor Webster asked if anything fur- ther had been done in the search for the doctor; he was told that the doctor's hat had been found in the water at Charles- town, and that the river had been dragged above and below the bridge. As the coach went along, the driver passed be3'ond the street leading to the college, and directed his way up towards the jail. Professor Webster remarked that he was going in a wrong direction. To this, policeman Clapp made reply, that the coachman was a new hand and somewhat green, but he would doubtless discover and rectify his mistake. This reason satisfied him. The coachman still drove on, and shortly after arrived at the jail. Clapp got out of the coach and went into the jail, to see if there were any spectators there — found there were not, and then went back and said to those in the coach, " I wish, gentlemen, you would alight here for a few moments." The offi- cers got out of the coach, and the professor followed. They passed into the outer office, and Clajip then said, " Gentlemen, I guess we had better walk into the inner office." Looking strangely at Clapp, Pro- fessor Webster said — " What is the meaning of all this?" " Professor Webster," replied Mr. Clapp, "you will jserhaps remember that in com- ing over Cambridge bridge, I told j'ou that the river above and below it had been dragged ; we have also been dragging in the college, and we have been looking for the body of Dr. Parkman. You are now in custody, on the charge of being his mur- derer ! " On hearing thia announcement, he ut- tered two or three sentences which were not distinctly understood, but which were supposed at the time to refer to the nature of the crime with which he was charged ; he finally spoke plainly, and said he would like his family to be told of his arrest. Mr. Clapp replied, that if his family were informed, as he requested, it would be a sad night to them, and advised him far- ther — as he was beginning to talk — that he would better Jiot say anything to any- body at that time. On afterwards carry- ing the prisoner to the college and laborar tory, he was greatly agitated, and looked as though he did not know what was going on about him. He appeared to act pre- cisely as some persons are known to when in delirium tremens ; some one handed 380 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMA^. him water, but he could not drinlc, and snapped at the glass like a mad dog. Concerning this period, Professor Web- ster states, in his own words : ' When I found the carriage was stopping at tlie jail, I was sure of my fate. Before leav- ing the carriage I took a dose of strych- nine from my pocket and swallowed it. I had prepared it in the shape of a pill be- fore I left my laboratory on the twenty- third. I thought I could not bear to sur- vive detection. I thought it was a large dose. The state of my nervous system probably defeated its action partially.' After a long investigation of the case, the grand jury found an indictment against the prisoner for the murder of Doctor Parkman, which came on for trial at Bos- ton, before Chief Justice Shaw and three associate justices, Wilde, Metcalf, and Dewey, of the supreme judicial court of IMassachusetts, upon the nineteenth of March, 1850. Some time before the judges took their places upon the bench. Professor Webster, — until now the inti- mate companion of senators, judges, di- vines, men of literature and science — entered, and immediately took his seat in the felon's dock. His step was light and elastic, in crossing towards his place, and his countenance betrayed a marked degree of calm and dignified composure. On sit- ting down, he smiled, as he saluted several of his friends and acquaintances, to some of whom he familiarly nodded ; and a stranger would have taken him for an or- dinary spectator. He wore his spectacles, and sat with ease and dignity in the dock, occasionally shaking hands with friends. The countenance of Professor Webster in- dicated strong animal passions, and irasci- ble temperament. The cheek-bones high, and the mouth, with compressed lips, be- traj'ed great resolution and firmness of character. The forehead inclined to an- gular, rather low, and partially' retreating. Standing below the middle height, and by no means a man of muscular strength, his general appearance made no very favorable impression. On the reading of the indict- ment, by the clerk, the prisoner stood up in the dock and listened with marked at- tention. Almost every eye was turned towards him at this time, but he exhibited the same self-possession and determined control as from the first, pleading 'Not Guilty,' in a strong and emphatic tone of voice. Ex-Governor Clifford was his sen- ior counsel. The trial lasted during eleven days, there having been no fewer than one hun- dred and sixteen witnesses examined — forty-seven of them being called on behalf of the accused, including his professional friends and neighbors, Presidents Sparks and Walker, Professors Peirce, Bowen, Hosford, Palfrej-, and Wyman. Scientific testimony was also given by Prof. 0. W. Holmes, and others ; and the court sat eight or nine hours each day. The testi- mony was of a most deeply interesting and exciting character. The various parts of the body found in the vault, furnace, and tea-chest, were, by the marvelous and beautiful science of anatomy, under the skillful hand of Prof. Jeffries Wyman, re- integrated, and found to constitute a body, positively recognized by some of Doctor Parkman's intimate associates as his. Doctor Keep identified the mineral teeth as the set made by him for the doc- tor. The general figure and appearance indicated by the remains, including a very peculiar hairiness of the back, corresponded perfectly with Doctor Parkman's; the MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAJT. 381 height, which, on the evidence of the anat- omists examined, 'could be determined certainly within half an inch/ was just the same ; the form of the lower jaw, too, shown b3'' four fragments of the right half, implied a rising chin, which was so jiromi- nent a feature of the doctor. Every cir- cumstance brought forward tended to show that Doctor Parkman's last known where- abouts was at the medical college, on the day when he was there to meet Professor Webster ; that the remains found in the apartments of the latter were those of the doctor ; that the professor, during the week succeeding the day of Doctor Park- man's disappearance, was locked in his laboratory at unusual hours ; that during that week, intense fires had been kept up in the furnace, and water was used in pro- digious quantities. So overwhelming was the evidence substantiating these and kin- dred facts, and so strong and unbroken the chain of circumstances which connected Professor Webster's movements with the great and awful deed, that the verdict of guilty seemed inevitable, when the ques- tion should be finally passed upon by the jury. But, through all the protracted trial, the prisoner maintained perfect com- posure, even when facts and objects were disclosed which would have made most men tremble. He also had the hardihood to address the jury, previous to the charge from the bench, explaining away the evi- dence against him, and asserting his en- tire innocence. At the conclusion of the judge's charge, the case was committed to the jury, and in about three hours they returned to de- liver their verdict. Professor Webster al.so soon appeared in the charge of an oflScer ; he moved with a quick, nervous step, and took his place in a chair beside the prison- er's dock, which he soon after changed for the arm-chair in the iron picket inclosures. His appearance was pale and thoughtful, with a serious dejectedness which was ap- parent in the contraction of the muscles about the mouth. The profound and death-like stillness was now broken by the clerk, who said — " Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed on a verdict ? " " We have," was the response. " Who shall speak for 3'ou, gentlemen ? " " The foreman," answered some of the jury. "John W. Webster, hold up your right hand," said the clerk. The prisoner rose and looked steadily and intensely upon the foreman ; and the clerk then continued — " Mr. Foreman, look upon the prisoner. Prisoner, look upon the jury." Professor Webster still maintained his fixed and intense look of inquiry upon the foreman, trying to gather from his coun- tenance some indication of the sentiments of the jury upon which depended life or death to him. " What say j-ou, Mr. Foreman, is John W. Webster, the prisoner at the bar, guilty, or not guiltj' ? " demanded the clerk. " Guilfj/ /" was the solemn response. When the foreman pronounced the word Guilty, the prisoner started, like a person shot; and his hand, which had hitherto been held erect, fell to the bar in front of him with a dead sound, as if he had sud- denly been dejjrived of muscular action. He soon sat down ; his chin drooped upon his breast. He put his hand up to his face, but his nerves trembled so that he appeared to be fumbling with his fingers under his spectacles, and, shutting his eyes, he gave a deep, heart-breaking sigh, which spoke of the inexpressible anguish of his soul. All eyes were fixed in sad- ness upon the doomed man. On the en- suing Monday he received his sentence to be hung. Subsequently, proceedings were taken, but unsuccessful, on the part of Professor Webster, to set aside the trial, on the ground of some alleged technical informal- ities; and a petition to Governor Briggs, — likewise unavailing — for a commutation of the sentence, on the ground that the killing, now confessed by Professor Web- ster, was done in the heat of excessive provocation. In this confession. Professor Webster states, as follows, the manner in 382 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAII. which the murder was committed : — Doc- tor Parkman agreed to call on me as I proposed. He came, accordingl3', between half-past one and two o'clock, entering at the lecture-room door. I was engaged in removing some lecture-room glasses from my table into the room in the rear, called the upper laboratory. He came rapidly down the step, and followed me into the laboratory. He immediately addressed me with great energy — 'Are you ready for me, sir ? Have you got the money ? ' I replied, 'No, Doctor Parkman;' and I was then beginning to state my condition and my appeal to him, but he would not listen to me, and interrupted me with much vehemence. He called me a scoun- drel and a liar, and went on heaping on obtain the object for which I sought the interview, but I could not stop him, and soon my own temper was up; I forgot everything, and felt nothing but the sting of his words. I was excited to the highest degree of passion, and while he was speak- ing and gesticulating in the most violent and menacing manner, thrusting the letter and his fist into my face, in my fury I seized whatever thing was handiest, (it was a stick of wood,) and dealt him an instantaneous blow with all the force that passion could give it. I did not know, or think, or care, where I should hit him, nor how hard, nor what the effect would be. It was on the side of his head, and there was nothing to break the force of the blow. He fell instantly upon the pavement. piiottsauu WbUaTtu's uell is fkison. me the most bitter taunts and opprobrious epithets. While he was speaking, he drew out a handful of papers from his pocket, and took from among them my two notes, and also an old letter from Doctor Hosack, written many j'ears ago, congratulating him on his success in getting me appointed Professor of Chemistry. ' You see,' he said, ' I was the means of getting you into your office, and now I will get you out of it.' He put back into his pocket all the papers except the letters and the notes. I cannot tell how long the torrent of threats and invectives continued, and I can recall to memory but a small portion of what he said ; at first I kept interpos- ing, trying to pacify him, so that I might There was no second blow ; he did not move. I stooped down over him, and he seemed to be lifeless. Blood flowed from his mouth, and I got a sponge and wiped it away. I got some ammonia and ap- plied it to his nose, but without effect. Perhaps I spent ten minutes in attempts to resuscitate him, but I found he was ab- solutely dead. In my horror and conster- nation I ran instinctivelj' to the doors and bolted them, the doors of the lecture-room, and of the laboratory below. And then, what was I to do ? It never occurred to me to go out and declare what had been done, and obtain assistance. I saw noth- ing but the alternative of a successful movement and concealment of the body on MUEDER OF DR. GEORGE PAEKMA:^r. 383 the one hand, and of infamy and destruc- tion on the other. The first thing I did, as soon as I could do anything, was to draw the body into tlie private room ad- joining, where I took off the clothes and began putting them into the fire, which was burning in the upper laboratory. They were all consumed there that after- noon. The painful details of the separation and disposal of the parts are then described by Professor Webster, — the body dismem- bered ; the head, viscera, and some of the limbs thrown into the fire of the furnace, ' and fuel heaped on ; ' and the remainder of the body put in two cisterns with water, one of which was under the lid of the lec- ture-room table, and the other in the lower laboratory, into the latter of which a quantity of potash was at the same time thrown. In continuation of this ghastly narrative. Professor Webster says : — When the body had been thus all disposed of, I cleared away all traces of what had been done. I think the stick witli which the fatal blow- had been struck, proved to be a piece of the stump of a large grape-vine — say two inches in diameter, and two feet long. It was one of several pieces which I had carried in from Cambridge long before, for the purpose of showing the effect of certain chemical fluids in coloring wood, by being absorbed into the pores. The grape-vine, being a very porous wood, was well adapted for that purpose. Another longer stick had been used as intended, and exhibited to the students. This one had not been used. I put it into the fire. I took up the two notes either from the table or the floor ; I think the table, close by where Doctor Parkman had fallen. I seized an old metallic pen lying on the table, dashed it across the face, and through the signatures, and put them in my pocket. I do not know why I did this rather than put them in the fire, for I had not considered for a moment what effect either mode of disposing of them would have on the mortgage, or my indebtedness to Doctor Parkman and the other persons interested, and I had not j-et given a sin- gle thought to the question as to what account I should give of the object or re- sult of my interview with Doctor Park- man. I left the college to go home as late as six o'clock. I collected myself as well as I could, that I might meet my family and others with composure. It was on Sunday that Professor Web- ster, according to his own assertion, for the first time made up his mind what course to take, and what account to give of the appointed meeting between him and Doctor Parkman; that on the same day he looked into the laboratory but did noth- ing; on Monday, after the officers' visit of search to the college, he threw the parts which had been under the lecture-table into the vault, and packed the thorax into the tea-chest ; the perforation of the tho- rax -was made by the knife ; and at the time of removing the viscera on Wednes- day, he put on kindlings, and made a fire in the furnace below, having first poked down the ashes ; some of the limbs were consumed at this time. This, he says, was the last he had to do with the remains. The fish-hooks, tied up as grapples, were to be used for drawing up the parts in the vault. On the very night of the murder, he and his family made a neighborly call at Professor Treadwell's, passing the even- ing in social conversation and playing whist ! It was that baneful feature in American society — extravagance — which alone brought Webster to calculate the life of his creditor and benefactor, and which, in so many other eminent examples, like those of Huntington, Ketchum, Edwards, Schuyler, and Gardiner, took the shape of gigantic frauds and peculation. So plain were the facts involving Pro- fessor Webster's terrible guilt, however, that no efforts to palliate his atrocious crime had the least effect upon the public mind in lightening the crushing weight of infamy from his name, nor did the arm of retributive justice for a moment swerve or falter. Upon a scaffold, in the same quarter of his native city where he and his victim first breathed the breath of life, and 384 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAJ^. in full view of the classic halls of Harvard College, John White Webster paid the extreme penalty of the law, and his form now lies interred in one of the sequestered dells of Mount Auburn, not far from the spot where rest the shattered remains of the ill-fated Parkman. Professor Webster owed his appointment at Harvard Univer- sity to the influence of Doctor Parkman and the eminent and honored Dr. Cas- par Wistar, of Philadelphia, president of the American Philosophical Society. No such deep and wide-spread excite- ment had, for many years, attended any other of the numerous murders committed for pecuniary motives, excepting, perhaps, the cold-blooded killing of Samuel Adams, a highly respected printer, by John C. Colt, author of the system of book-keeping and penmanship bearing his name, and brother of the well-known inventor of the revolver. This deed occurred in the city of New York, in September, 1841. Colt had for some time owed Adams a bill for printing, which he was unprepared to p.ay. The final call made by Adams, at Colt's room on Broadway, for a settlement of the account, resulted in a tragedy rarely equaled in the annals of crime. Por some daj's, the mysterious absence of Mr. Adams was the subject of universal comment in the newspaper press. The discovery of the murder was made through the instrumentality of Mr. Wheeler, who occupied a room adjoining that of Colt. About four o'clock, p. m., on the day of Mr. Adams's disappearance, Mr. Wheeler thought he heard an unusual noise in Colt's room, and was induced to go to the door and rap. Not receiving any answer, he looked through the key-hole, and saw two hats standing upon a table, and Colt kneeling upon the floor, as if scrubbing it. After waiting a little while, Mr. Wheeler peeped into the key-hole again, and saw Colt still engaged in the same operation. This excited his suspicions, and he caused a person to watch at the door all night. In the morning, Colt was seen to take a box, about four feet long and two high, down stairs. The box was directed to somebody in St. Louis, via New Orleans. Mr. Wheeler gave information of these facts to the mayor, who immediately insti- tuted search for the box ; it was found, after some difficulty, on board of the ship Kalamazoo, and in it the body of Mr. Ad- ams, wrapped up in sail-cloth and sprinkled with salt and chloride of lime. Colt was at once arrested, and an indict- ment for willful and deliberate murder found against him. His trial resulted in his conviction ; and, notwithstanding the efforts of numerous and powerful friends, and the lavish use of money, in his behalf, the fatal day arrived when lie was to pay the extreme penalty of the law for his great crime. The scaffold was erected — the whole city surged with excitement — the crowd gathered around the prison was immense. At eleven o'clock. Rev. Dr. Anthon vis- ited Colt's cell, in company with Colt's brother, for the purpose of marrying the murderer to his mistress, Caroline Hen- shaw. The ceremony was performed, Colt manifesting a deej) interest in their child. He also handed a package containing five hundred dollars for its benefit to Doctor Anthon, who proffered to become sponsor for it, which was eagerly accepted by Colt. About one o'clock, Colt's brother, Sam- uel, again arrived, and entered the cell. Colt was still engaged in conversation with his wife, who was sitting on the foot of the bed, convulsed with tears. At Colt's re- quest, John Howard Payne and Lewis Gay- lord Clarke then went into the cell to take their leave of him. Colt appeared exceed- ingly pleased to see them, shook them cor- dially by the hand, and conversed with ap- jjarent cheerfulness with them for five minutes, when they bade him farewell, both of them in tears. Colt's wife, and his brother Samuel, also soon left, both deeply affected. The wife could scarcely support herself, so violent were her feelings and acute her sufferings. She stood at the door of the cell for a minute — Colt kiss- ing her passionately, straining her to his bosom, and watching intensely her reced- ing form, as she passed into the corridor. MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAK 385 Here slie stood and sobbed convulsively-, as though her heart would break, until led away by friends. Colt now desired to see the sheriff, who went into his cell. Colt then told him emphatically that he was innocent of the murder of Adams, and that he never in- tended to kill him ; he also said that he had hopes that something would intervene to save him from being hung, and begged the sheriff not to execute the sentence of the law upon him. The sheriff told him to banish all hope of that kind, for he must die at four o'clock. He then asked to see Doctor Anthon, who went into his cell, and remained in prayer with him about ten minutes. At the close of this, Colt again sent for the sheriff, and said to him, " If there are any gentlemen present who wish to see me, and take their leave of me, I shall be happy to see them." This was announced by the sheriff, and all present, with one or two exceptions, passed up to his cell door, shook him by the hand, and took their leave of him. To one gentleman connected with the press, he said : " I've spoken harshly of some of the press, but I do not blame you at all ; it was all my own fault. There were things that ought to have been ex- plained. I know you have a good heart, and I forgive 3'ou from my soul freely ; may God bless you, and may you prosper." He then requested the keeper, Mr. Greene, to let him be left alone until the last moment. Tliis ^ras about two o'clock. His cell was closed, and he was left alone till twenty minutes to three, when some friends of the sheriff, apprehending that an attempt at suicide might be made by Colt, desired deputy sheriff Hillyer to go to Colt's cell door, and request to wish him ' good bye.' Colt was then walking up 26 and down his cell, but turned around on the door opening, smiled on Hillyer, shook him by the hand and kis«ed him, as lie did sev- eral of those who had just previously bid him farewell in this life. He said to Hill- yer, " God bless you, and may you prosper in this life, which is soon to close on me." From this time, the excitement around the prison increased tremendously, and the feelings of those in the prison were also worked up to a pitch of great intensity. No one, however, entered his cell till pre- cisely five minutes to four o'clock, at which time Sheriffs Hart and Westervelt, dressed in uniform, and accompanied by Doctor Anthon, proceeded to the cell. On the keeper opening the door. Doctor Anthon, who was first, threw up his hands and ej'es to Heaven, and uttering a faint ejaculation, turned pale as death and retired. "As I thought," said the keeper. " As I thought," said others. And going into the cell, there lay Colt on his back, stretched out at full length on the bed, quite dead, but not cold. A clasp knife, like a small dirk knife, with a broken handle, was sticking in his heart. He had stabbed himself about the fifth rib, on the left side. His temples were yet warm. His vest was open, the blood had flowed freely, and his hands, which were lying across the stom- ach, were very bloody ; he had evidently worked and turned the knife round and round in his heart after stabbing himself, until he made quite a large gash. His mouth was open, his eyes partially so, and his body lay as straight on the bed as if laid out for a funeral b}' others. Most strange to say, just at this moment, the large cupola of the prison was discovered to be on fire, and burned furiousl}'. The scene and circumstances were tragical to a degree altogether indescribable. XLVIII. BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND, THE "SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE."— 1850. Tin's Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum. — Twenty Thousand Persons Welcome Her Arrival. — Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice. — A Whole Continent Enraptured With Her Enchanting Melodies. — Pleasant Exhilaration of Feeling Throughout the Land by the Presence of the Fair Nightingale. — Honors from Webster, Clay, and Other Dignitaries. — Her Praises Fill the Wide World. — The Vocal Prodigy of the Age. — In Opera, " The Daughter of the Kegiment." — Bar- num's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. — She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joyous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny Lind " Era — First Concert at Castle Garden. — Tempest of Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets. — Public Expectation Exceeded. — Jenny's Complete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm Everywhere. — Beautiful Incidents. — She is a Guest at the While House. — Henry Clay at Her Con- cert. — Webster and the Nightingale. — A Scene " Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-Five Concerts Yield $700,000. ** So soft, so clear, ^et in ko sweet a note. It seemed the music melted in ber Bpirit." ' EALOUSLY watching, with a practiced professional eye, every opportu- nity to cater to tlie ever-varj'ing tastes of a pleasure-loving public, Mr. Barnum, the "prince of showmen," conceived the felicitous idea of inviting the renowned Swedish songstress, Jenny Lind, whose praise filled the wide world as that of a very divinity, to enter into an engage- ment with him to visit the United States, on a prolonged musical tour, under his managing auspices; and this enterj^rising design, the accom- plished showman in due time brought successfully about, — its consum- mation forming one of the most brilliant, joyous and exhilarating episodes, viewed from whatever aspect, in the experience of the American nation, — an outburst of sunny excitement and delight, all over the land, at the presence of that tran- scendent musical genius, that wonderful vocal prodigy, of modern times. But before proceeding to the details of this splendid and triumphant tour, some account of the distinguished songstress, in respect to her fascinating jjersonal history and previous public career, will be in place, — derived and condensed from authentic sources, — presenting, as it does, such peculiar points of interest. The "Swedish nightingale" — the "divine Jenny," — as she came to be called, as her powers of song were developed, was born at Stockholm, in 1821, and her taste for music was indicated while yet in her third j'ear. At nine or ten, her parents, who were in reduced circumstances, suffered her to go upon the stage, where her success in juvenile characters was astonishing. But when she had reached her twelfth year, after receiving BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 387 instruction from some of the first music masters, she lost her voice. Loving music for its own sake, the "nightingale" was bitterly afflicted at this calamit;', the more especially as her voice had become a source of comfortable existence. At sixteen, however, it returned, to her infinite joy, under the following peculiar circumstances. At a concert, in which the fourth act of Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable had been announced, it was suddenly discovered that a singer to take the part of Alice was wanting. A short solo being all that Alice has to sing in this act, none of the professionals were found desirous of under- taking the character. So trifling a part, her teacher thought, would not be marred, even by Jenny LinJ, and accordingly she was intrusted with the execution of the insignificant solo. As, from the most arid spot in the desert, water, sparkling and fresh, will sometimes gush forth, so broke out, on this occasion, the rich fountain of song which had so long been latent in the humble and hitherto silent nightingale. Her voice returne'' with all its pristine sweetness, and with more than its early power, and the most overwhelming ajj- plause followed the unexpected discovery of this mine of melod}'. All doubt as to her lyrical excellence T.'as now gone, and towards the winter of 1838, she made her first appearance on the stage as a singer, in the character of Agatha, in Der Frieschutz. Her exquisite f-inging, and her acting, abounding in point and originality, created a deep lien- sation ; and she won new laurels by her representation of Alice, in the spring of 18.39, and fully established her fame by her subsequent performance of Lucia, in Lucia di Lammermoor. She afterwards visited Paris, to receive lessons from Garcia, the father and instructor of the ill-fated Madame Malibran, — a vocalist who, like Jenny Lind, carried with her the hearts of her auditory. The reception which that eminent composer gave her \7as, at first, rather discouraging. After li?aring her sing, he said — •'•'My dear young lady, you have no voice; you have had a voice, and will lose it ; you have been singing too early or too much, and your voice is worn to ruin. I cannot instruct 3-ou — I cannot give you any hope at present. Sing not a note for three months, and then see me again." This counsel she follov ed, and when she re-appeared before Garcia, he thought there was some hoi>e of her, and gave her the instructions which she coveted ; but it is remarkable that Garcia should never have had sufficient penetration to discover her innate genius. Soon after this, she made the acquaintance of Meyerbeer, whose discrimination was more searching. A rehearsal was given, with a full orches- tra, at the grand opera, where the per- formance of Jenny Lind so gratified the composer, that lie at once offered her an engagement at iJerlin. At the close of 1842, she returned to Stockholm, where her popularity contin- ued to increase. Her fame, however, extending beyond the limits of Sweden, she was induced to make a professional visit to Germany, where public opinion confirmed that high estimate of her abili- ties which had been sanctioned at home. But it was in England, that her success first touched the marvelous and sublime ; and there it was, that the tribute appro- priated by Shakespeare to one of his beau- tiful creations — " She sbujs lUceone immor- tal " — became fact, applied to the Swedish nightingale. Her Majesty's theater was the first arena of her triumphs in England, Queen Victoria, by her presence on the opening night, offering her a flattering and graceful tribute. On the evening of May fifth, she made her first essay before an English audience, in the character of Alice. The uproar excited by her appear- ance on this occasion was tremendous. The whole crowded mass displayed an astounding power of lungs, and hats and handkerchiefs waved from all parts. Peo- ple came prepared to admire, but they admired beyond the extent of their prejj- aration. The delicious quality of the per- formance — the rich, gushing notes, were something entirely new and fresh. The 388 BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIISD. auditors did not know what to make of it. They had heard singers over and over again ; hut there — that wondrous thing ! — a new sensation was actually created. The sustained notes swelling with full richness, and fading down to the softest piano, without losing one iota of their quality, being delicious when loud, deli- cious when whispered, which dwelt in the public ear and reposed in the public heart, — these were the wonder-exciting phenom- ena. The impression made as an actress was no less profound ; and even in Vienna, the most exacting critics applauded her performance of The Daughter of the Reg- iment, in Donnizetti's renowned opera, as they also did in other cities. On returning to Stockholm, in 1848, she entered into an engagement with the royal opera, to give a series of concerts. On the evening of her first performance, the newspapers of the city published a note signed by the renowned cantatrice, in which she stated that, in order to give her native country a souvenir that might last beyond her existence as an artist, she had determined on devoting the whole profits of her performance to the establishment of a school for poor young persons of both sexes, born with happy dispositions, in which they should be gratuitously taught music and the dramatic art. This gener- osity excited to the wildest pitch, the public enthusiasm, and on the time arriv- ing for the sale of tickets for the nest day, the place was densely crowded. This state of things continued to increase, until about eleven o'clock, when the multitude was such that the police interfered, and made the people form en queue. This was accomplished quietly enough ; but a little after midnight a compact mass of people suddenly made an irruption from the neighboring streets, rushed on the said queue, broke it, and besieged the theater. The first crowd now returned, attacked their aggressors, and in a few minutes a desperate fist and foot combat ensued. The police jiroved una- vailing, and several de- tachments of infantry arrived; these also were formidably opposed, and only with great trouble did they succeed in keep- ing order. Tickets were paid for as high as one hundred dollars. And thus it was, indeed, in all the cities where the great melodist held forth in her discourse of song, — the favor shown her in- creasing and accumulat- , ing with her progress from place to place. "") And, certainly, all this success and fame was ns much a matter of surprise to herself as to anybody else ; for, even in 1845, remarking on her intended performance in Copenha- gen, at which city she had just arrived, she said, with characteristic modesty — " I have never made my appearance out of Sweden. Everybody in my own land is so affectionate and loving to me. If I made my appearance here, and should be hissed ! I dare not venture on it." But the persuasions of Boumonville, the ballet-master, eventually prevailed, and gained for the Copeuhageners the greatest enjoyment they ever had. At one concert BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 3S9 she sang her Swedish songs. They were so peculiar and so bewitching, that, uttered by such a jjurely feminine being, their sway was absolutely enrapturing. Her singing was a new revelation in the realm of art. The fresh young voice found its way into every heart. In her truth and nature reigned ; everything was full of meaning and intelligence. She was the first artist to whom the Danish students gave a serenade. Torches blazed around the villa, when the serenade was given, and she appeared and expressed her thanks by singing one of her native songs ; after which, she was observed to hasten back into the darkest corner of the room and weep for emotion. In the history of the ojjera, her advent marked a new and striking epoch. She showed the art in all its sanctit}'. Miss Bremer, writing to Hans Andersen, said : "We are both of us agreed as to Jenny Lind as a singer. She stands as high as any artist of our time well can stand. But as yet you do not know her in her real greatness. Speak to her of her art, and you will wonder at the exjjansion of her mind. Her countenance is lighted with inspiration. Converse with her upon God, and of the holiness of religion, tears will spring from those innocent eyes. She is a great artist, but she is still greater in the pure humanity of her existence." Indeed, according to Andersen himself, who was familiar with the in-door life of the winsome Swede, nothing could lessen the impression made by Jenny Lind's greatness on the stage, save her personal character in her own home. Her intelli- gent and child-like disposition exercised tliere a singular power; and there she was happy, belonging no longer to the world. Yet she loved art with her whole soul. She felt her vocation. Her noble and pious disposition could not be spoiled by homage. On one occasion only, says Andersen, did she express, in his hearing, her joy and self-consciousness in her talent, and this occurred as follows : She heard of a society, the object of which was to encourage the rescue of unfortunate chil- dren from the hands of their parents, by whom they were compelled to beg or steal, and place them in better circumstances. Benevolent people subscribed annually for their support, yet the means for this excellent purpose were but small. " I have an evening disengaged," said Jenny Lind ; " I will give a performance for these poor children, but we must have double prices." Such a performance was given, and returned lai-ge proceeds. When she heard the amount, her countenance lit up, and tears filled her ej'es. " It is, however, beautiful," said she, " that I can sing so." Having performed in almost all the principal cities and towns in Europe, to vast crowds who were almost frantic in their demonstrations of delight, as well as in the presence of almost every crowned head on the continent, winning their admiring homage, and gaining a fame wide as the world and as bright and pure as the stars, Jenny Lind's inclination appeared to be to retire, at least for a while, on the conclusion of her engagement in England, to the tranquillity of home life. It was at this point in her wonderful career, that Mr. Barnum, through his spe- cially commissioned agent, proposed the most liberal and honorable terms to Jenny Lind, to give a series of concerts in the United States. The proposals made by Mr. Barnum were so generous, and char- acterized by such delicate and gentlemanly consideration, in every respect, that, not- withstanding several parties were likewise attempting, at the same time, to negotiate with her for an American tour, she unhes- itatingly decided to treat with Mr. Bar- num, who was, on his own bidding, to assume all the responsibility, and take the entire management and chances of the result upon himself. The manner in which that sagacious and accomplished gentleman carried on an enterprise of such vast magnitude, — nearly one hundred con- certs, in all parts of the land, from Boston to Louisiana, and involving viore tha7i seven hundred thousand dollars in total receipts, — was a monument alike to his genius and to hi£ superlative executive 390 BEILLIAl^T MUSICAL TOUE OF JENNY LIND. abilities ;— a statement, the truth of which will be found abundantly confirmed in the history of this enterprise, as written by Mr. Barnum himself, and from which some of the facts and incidents given below are collated. On Wednesday morning, August twentj'- first, 1850, Jenny Lind and her two pro- fessional companions, Messrs. Benedict and Belletti, sailed from Liverpool in the steamer Atlantic. It was expected that the steamer would arrive on Sunday, Sep- tember first, but, determined to meet the songstress on her arrival, whenever it might be, Mr. Barnum went to Staten Island on Saturday night, to be in readi- ness to greet the fair stranger. A few minutes before twelve o'clock on Sunday morning, the Atlantic hove in sight, and, immediately afterwards, Mr. Barnum was on board the ship, and had taken Jenny Lind by the hand. After a few moments' conversation, she asked him — " When and where have you heard me sing 9" " I never had the pleasure of seeing j-ou before in my life," replied Mr. Barnum. " How is it possible that you dared risk so much money on a person whom you never heard sing ? " she asked in surprise. "I risked it," answered Mr. Barnum, " on your reputation, which in musical matters I would much rather trust than my own judgment." Thousands of persons covered the ship- ping and piers, and other thousands con- gregated on the wharf, to see her, the wildest enthusiasm prevailing as the noble steamer approached the dock. So great was the rush on a sloop near the steamer's berth, that one man, in his zeal to obtain a good view, accidentally tumbled over- board amid the shouts of those near him. Jenny witnessed this incident, and was much alarmed. He was, however, soon rescued. A superb bower of green trees, decorated with beautiful flags, was ar- ranged upon the wharf, together with two triumphal arches ; upon one of the latter, was inscribed, " Welcome, Jenny Lind J " and the other, surmounted by the Ameri- can eagle, bore the inscription, " Welcome to America ! " ' Jenny Lind was escorted to Mr. Barnum's private carriage at once, by Captain West. The rest of the musi- cal party entered the carriage, and, mount- ing the box at the driver's side, Mr. Barnum directed him to the Irving House. As a few of the citizens had probably seen Mr. Barnum before, his presence on the outside of the carriage aided those who filled the windows and sidewalks along the whole route in coming to the conclusion that Jenny Lind had arrived ; and a ref- erence to the journals of that day will show, that seldom before had there been such enthusiasm in the city of New York, or indeed in America. Within ten minutes after their arrival at the Irving House, not less than ten thousand persons had congregated around the entrance in Broadway. At twelve o'clock that night, she was serenaded by the New York Musical Fund Society, numbering on that occasion two hundred musicians. They were escorted to the Irving House by about three hundred firemen in their red shirts, bearing torches. At least twenty thousand persons were present. The calls for Jenny Lind were so vehement, that Mr. Barnum led her through a window to the balcony ; and now, the loud cheers from the throng lasted several minutes, before the serenade was permitted again to proceed. For weeks afterwards, the excitement was unabated. Her rooms were thronged BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 391 by visitors, including the magnates of the land, both in church and state, and the carriages of the beau monde were to he seen in front of her hotel, at all fashiona- ble hours. Presents of all sorts were showered upon her. Milliners, mantua- makers, and shopkeepers, vied with each other in calling her attention to their wares, of which they sent her many valua- ble specimens, delighted if in return they could receive her autograph in acknowl- edgment. Songs, quadrilles, and polkas, were dedicated to her, and poets wrote in her praise. There were Jenny Lind gloves, Jenny Lind bonnets, Jenny Lind riding hats, Jenny Lind shawls, mantillas, robes, chairs, sofas, pianos — in fact, every- thing was " Jenny Lind." Her move- ments were constantly watched, and the moment her carriage appeared at the door, it was surrounded by multitudes, eager to catch a glimpse of the fair " nightingale." Jenny Lind's first concert was fixed to come off at Castle Garden, Wednesday evening, September eleventh, and most of the tickets were sold at auction on the previous Saturday and Monday. Genin, the hatter, purchased the first ticket at two hundred and twenty-five dollars. The arrangements of the concert room were very complete. The great parterre and gallery of Castle Garden were divided by imaginary lines into four compartments, each of which was designated by a lamp of a peculiar color. The tickets were printed in colors corresponding with the location which the holders were to occupy, and there were one hundred ushers, with rosettes, and bearing wands tipped with ribbons of the same hue ; and, though five thousand persons were present, their en- trance was marked by the most perfect order and quiet. The reception of Jenny Lind on this her first appearance, in point of enthusi- asm, was probably never before equaled in the world. As Mr. Benedict led her towards the foot-lights, the entire audience rose to their feet and welcomed her with throe cheers, accompanied by the waving of thousands of hats and handkerchiefs. and the casting of bouquets before her. This was by far the largest audience that Jenny had ever sung in the presence of. She was evidently much agitated, but the orchestra commenced, and before she had sung a dozen notes of " Casta Diva," she began to recover her self-possession, and long before the scene was concluded, she was calm as if sitting in her own drawing-room. Towards the last portion of the cavatina, the audience were so com- pletely carried away by their feelings, that the remainder of the air was drowned in a perfect tempest of acclamation. En- thusiasm had been wrought to its highest pitch, but the musical powers of Jenny Lind exceeded all the brilliant anticipa- tions which had been formed, and her tri- umph was complete. At the conclusion of the concert, Jenny Lind was loudly called for, and was obliged to appear three times before the audience could be satis- fied. They then called vociferously for " Barnum," who reluctantly responded to their demands ; and, on his concluding by saying that the whole proceeds of the con- cert were to rjo to charitable ohjects, it seemed as though the audience would go frantic with applause. From New York, Jenuy Lind went to Boston, Providence, Philadelphia, Balti- more, AVashington, — to all the chief cities in the Union, east, west, north, and south; vast audiences everj'where awaiting her, — municipal, musical, and other deputa- tions, tendering their honors, — and, during every performance, there was a constant succession of hurrahs, encores, and other demonstrations of intense delight. In Boston, the highest price paid for a ticket was six hundred and twenty-five dollars, by Ossian E. Dodge ; in Providence, six hundred and fifty dollars, by Col. William C Ross ; in Philadelphia, six hundred and twenty-five dollars, b^^ M. A. Root; in New Orleans, two hundred and forty dol- lars, by Mr. D'Arcy ; in St. Louis, one hundred and fifty dollars, by the keeper of a refreshment saloon; in Baltimore, one hundred dollars, by a daguerreotypist. It was in one of the beautiful environs 392 BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. of Boston, that Jenny took her first out-door walk in America. Her love for the charms of nature was always intense, as the following incident which occurred on another occasion, as related by a stage- driver, will show. A bird of brilliant plumage perched itself on a tree near, as they drove slowly along, and trilled out such a complication of sweet notes as per- fectly astonished her. The coach stopped, and, reaching out, Jenny gave one of her finest roulades. The beautiful creature arched his head on one side, and listened deferentially; then, as if determined to excel his famous rival, raised his graceful throat and sang a song of rippling melody that made Jenny rapturously clap her hands in ecstasy,and quickly, as though she were before a severely critical audience, she delivered some Tyrolean mountain strains, that set the echoes flying; whereupon little birdie took it up, and sang and trilled and sang, till Jenny, in happy delight, acknowledged that the pretty woodland warbler decidedly outcaroledthe "Swedish nightingale." cTenny Lind's generosity was unbounded. To saj' nothing of her numerous heavy bene- factions to societies and individual.«,— amounting to some fifty thousand dol- lars, during her brief stay in America, — here is an illustration of her sweet tender- ness. One night, while giving concerts in Boston, a girl approached the ticket-ofiBce, and laying down three dollars for a ticket, remarked, " There goes half a month's earnings, but I am determined to hear Jenny Lind sing.'' Her secretary heard the remark, and in a few minutes after- wards, coming into Jenny's room, he laughingly' related to her the circumstance. " Would you know the girl again ? " asked Jenny, with an earnest look. Upon re- ceiving an affirmative reply, she placed a twenty-dollar gold coin in his hand, and said, " Poor girl ! give her that, with my best complivients." While in the same city, a poor Swedish girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbury, called on Jenny. Jenny detained her vis- itor several hours, talking about "home" and other matters, and in the evening took her in her carriage to the concert, gave her a seat, and sent her back to Eox. BEILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 303 bury in a carriage at the close of the per- formance. Doubtless the poor girl carried with her substantial evidences of her countrywqman's bounty. On the morning after her arrival at Washington, President Fillmore called, and left his card, Jenny being out. She returned his call the next day, and subsequently, by presidential request, passed an evening at the White House, in the private circle of tlie president's family. Both concerts in Washington were attended by the president and his family, and every member of the cabinet. It hajj- pened that, on the day of one of these concerts, several members of the cabinet and senate were dining with Mr. Bodisco, the Russian minister, whose good dinner and choice wines had kept the jiarty so late that the concert had progressed quite far when Webster, Crittenden, and others, came in. Whether from the hurry in which they came, or from the heat of the room, their faces were a little flushed, and they all looked somewhat flurried. After the applause with which these dignitaries were received had subsided, and silence was once more restored, the second part of the concert was opened bj' Jennj' Lind, with "Hail Columbia." At the close of the first verse, Webster's patriotism boiled over. He could stand it no longer, and rising like Olympian Jove, he added his deep, sonorous, bass voice to the chorus. Mrs. Webster, who sat immediately be- hind him, kept tugging at his coat-tail to make him sit down or stop singing; but it was of no earthly use. At the close of each verse, Webster joined in ; and it was hard to sa}' whether Jenny Lind, Webster, or the audience was the most delighted. At the close of the air, Mr. Webster arose, hat in hand, and made her such a bow as Chesterfield would have deemed a fortune for his son, and which eclipsed D'Orsay's best. Jenny Lind, sweetly blushing at the distinguished honor, courtesied to the floor; the audience applauded to the very echo. Webster, determined not to be out- done in politeness, bowed again ; Jenny Lind re-curtesied, the house re-applauded ; and this was repeated several times. And so, in the case of Mr. Clay. Scarcely had the overture been half played through, than a murmur was heard from the end of the building. It was hushed instantly, and the overture was plaj'ed to its close. And now burst out a long and loud shout of applause. For a moment, Benedict, the conductor, looked around, somewhat astonished. He, however, saw immediately that this applause had not been called forth b^' the orchestra. The tall, slim, thin figure of an aged man — with a grajish blue ej'e, vivid and spark- ling, and a capacious, broad mouth — was slowly advancing up the room. Jt was Henry Clay. As he moved on, the shouts and applause redoubled. He, bowing on every side, continued his path feeblj', and somewhat cautiouslj'. At length he reached his seat, and the applause ceased for a moment. Then a voice at the upper end of the hall cried out, "Three cheers for Harry Clay ! '' The building almost rocked with the vehemence of the re- sponse. While in Washington, Jenny Lind was called on by hosts of the eminent men of the land, including Mr. Webster, Mr. Claj', General Cass, and Colonel Benton. And, indeed, wherever she went, from one end of the country to the other, the same scene presented itself, of distinguished honors to this Divinity of Song, — admiring and enthusiastic communities turning out to welcome, — and crowded audiences rap- turous under the overpowering enchant- ment of her voice. Jenny Lind's net avails of the ninety-five concerts given by her under Mr. Barnum's auspices, in the short space of eight months, were little short of $177,000, or nearly double the amount, per concert, named in their origi- nal contract. Subsequently, she gave a few concerts on her own account. In February, 1852, she was married, in Boston, to Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, a young German composer and pianist, who had studied music with her in that country, and who played several times in her Amer- 394 BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. ican concerts. Shortly after her marriage, they left for Europe. Her professional tour in America was far more brilliant and successful than that of any other performer, male or female, musical, theatrical, or operatic, who ever appeared before an American audience. The names of Kem- ble, Malibran, Celeste, Ellsler, Tree, Kean, Garcia, Ole Bull, Paganini, Rossini, Julien, Ristori, Rachel, Parepa, Alboni, Dean, Phillips, Kellogg, Sontag, Wood, Gotts- ehalk, etc., etc., all pale before that of the fair Swede. Describing Jenny Lind's voice scientific- ally, it should be spoken of as a soprano, embracing a register of two and a half octaves. Clear and powerful, susceptible of the greatest variety of intonation, it met all the demands of the composer with the greatest facility to its possessor. No difficulties appalled her j a perfect musi- cian, she suffered herself to revel in all the roulades of which the time and occasion admitted. Her upper notes filled the vastest area with an effect to which noth- ing but the striking of a fine-toned bell could be compared, while her most gentle and subdued passages were audible at the greatest distances. In a word, there was a rare combination of qualities which raised her above all other singers ever heard. Her voice — sweet, powerful, mel- low, resonant, faultless in tone, and full of sympathetic emotion ; her execution — ready and facile ; her manner — earnest not only in the expression of every word, but in her looks, her air, her abstraction from ev- ery surrounding object ; — to have seen and heard this, even once, was, in the language of one who had been thus favored, " a treat to last until we go to heaven, where, and where alone, such music oan be heard." XLIX. REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALI- FORNIA— 1851. Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular Authori- ties. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent.— The Committee's Secret Chamber of Judgment.— Sudden Seizure and Trial of Noted Criminals.— Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell.— Swift and Terrible Executions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of Desperate Felons. — England's Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of " Hounds." — A Band of Cut-throats. — Society at Their Mercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them. — Corrupt Courts and Officers. — The Vigilance Commit- tee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Extraordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astound- ing Revelations. — Magistrates Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee. — A Double Execution. — Thousands of Spectators. — Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lawless Classes Terrified. — The Results of the Movement. ■ other diBturher of Ihe neoce, fhnl! pFcnpe punUh- ment. either liy th<- qu bnl'eH'of the law. the^iiiBecurity uf jtiVisoiie. the curfl«BbneBS or curruptiou of the police, or a Inxity of those wlio pretend e detprmlnod that 10 thief, bur^tlar. im ly lh<- qu b^le» of tlie law, tlie iiiBecl Bier jil-tice.' — .\UDRESS OF THE Vllil ndinry. ttB^asBln. hallnt-hnx atuffer. ;y of iiriBooe. the ci t^'(.t CullMITIbli. IGILANCE committees, and " 13'nch law," are terms of similar and famil- ^.- iar meaning, in the American vocabulary. But nowhere else ;^<^&^ev within the borders of the great republic has the operation of this summary' method of dealing with offenders who would otherwise gn "unwbipped of justice," been so resolute, so frequent, and so (ffectne, as in California. Nor, perhaps, has it ever been more f xcusable, as an extreme public necessity. Such was the unsettled condition of society in that remote territory, fluring the earlier years of its mining historj', so multi- plied and daring the crimes against life and property, xrtd so inefficient as well as glaringly corrupt, the courts ind judges, that, for a time, robbery, murder, arson, and \ iolence were completely in the ascendant, so that every man not actually in league with the perpetrators of these outrages, was put on the defensive, — car- rying his weapons by day, and sleeping on them at night. Bold and defiant in their successful career of crime, numbers of these outlaws formed themselves into a mutual organiza- tion, with regular head-quarters, and assumed the name of "hounds." Tliey swarmed the city and the country, and, in their skilled arts of villainy, as thieves, pickpockets, gamblers, incendiaries, and assassins, numbered their DotBLE EXEcuTiu.N i.v SAN FKANcisco. victims by huudreds. lu addition to this, 396 REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. large numbers of felons found their way to California, from the convict islands of Van Dieman's Land and New South Wales, and there, under the existing lax- ity of law and audacity of crime, reaped a rich harvest. Such, then, was the condition of affairs throughout the state, when, goaded and outraged beyond endurance, the well-dis- posed citizens determined to become a law unto themselves, and to administer that law in the interests of justice and self-pro- tection, with promptness and decision. Ex- amples were not long wanting for the exe- cution of their purpose ; and, in pursuance of the same end, the citizens of San Fran- cisco soon found their wrongs being re- dressed by a powerful voluntary organiza- tion of the most influential men in the city, styled the Vigilance Committee, who, in the constitution of their association, de- clared that they thus united themselves together, " to preserve the lives and proi> erty of the citizens of San Francisco, — binding themselves, each unto the other, to do and perform every lawful act for the maintenance of law and order, and to sus- tain the laws when faithfully and properly administered, — but determined that no thief, burglar, incendiarij, or assassin, es- cape punishment, either- by the quibbles of the latv, the insecurity of prisons, the care- lessness or corruption of the j^olice, or a laxity on the part of those pretending to administer justice." The first, and one of the most excitinor of the cases growing out of this extraor- dinary organization, occurred in San Fran- cisco, in June, 1851, when a Sidney con- vict was caught in the act of carrying away a small safe which he had stolen. The man, a desperate character, was seized by some memljers of the vigilance commit- tee, who conducted him forthwith to their head-quarters, where he was tried in the presence of about eighty members of the association sitting with closed doors, by them convicted, and sentenced to be hung in Portsmouth Square, that night. Dur- ing the progress of the trial, the citizens had assembled in large numbers about the building and in Portsmouth Square, the bell on the engine-house at the latter local- ity having rung the prcrarranged signal, to give notice of the proceedings going on. Thougli very much excited, the populace were not disorderly. Some disapprobation was manifested at the secrecy of the com- mittee's doings ; but when the result was known, there was a very general acquies- cence, although there were many who deemed the punishment too severe for the offense, and others thought he should be executed in broad daylight. As soon as the sentence was passed, the bell on the California Engine House, near by, com- menced to toll the funeral knell of the wretched man. This was at one o'clock, viidnight. Captain Ray, of the police force, applied at the door of the commit- tee's room, and demanded the prisoner, but was refused several times, and al- though others of the police force were on the ground, they saw it was of no use to attempt a rescue. Some person climbed the liberty pole to rig a block for the execution, but a loud shout of "Don't hang him on the liberty pole," arose from all quarters. Voices screamed out, " To the old adobe," and a rush was made for that edifice, upon the corner of the square, formerly occupied as the custom-house. At the end of the build- ing, a block was rigged, and a long rope run through it. In the meantime, a num- ber of the police who were on the ground, made several attempts to obtain possession of the prisoner, whose arms were tightly pinioned and who was closely surrounded by an armed and resolute body of the com- mittee, but they were sternly prevented ; had they persisted, they would have been riddled with balls. Several citizens de- nounced the execution, and sought to aid the police. The prisoner by this time was nearly dead with fear and rough handling, when a rush was made toward him, a noose thrown over his head, the rope manned by twenty ready hands, who ran backwards, dragging the wretched man along the ground, until, raising him swiftly to the EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 397 beam, the heavy form of the convicted felon dangled from the block. A few fear- ful struggles, a quiver of the hempen cord, a few nervous twitches, and the crowd gazed upon the lifeless corpse of him upon whom such speedy and terrible vengeance had been executed by an outraged people. At six o'clock, the city marshal cut down the body and consigned it to the dead- house. Thus ended the first execution which ever took place in San Francisco, where more crime had been committed during the j'ear past than in any other city of the same population in the Union, without one single instance of adequate punish- ment. Of the guilt of Jenkins there was no doubt. He had long been known to the police as a desperate character from the English penal colonies, where he had passed many years as a transported con- SEAIi OF THE CALIFORNIA. VIGILAXCE COMMITTEE. vict. A profound impression was produced throughout California, as also in every other section of the country, by these ex- traordinary but imperative proceedings. Only a month elapsed from this time, when another and similar scene of horror was enacted. This was the case of James Stuart, one of a regular gang of thieves and murderers, and who, from his own confession, had committed almost every known crime and outrage. He was delib- erately tried on various charges by the vigila.nce committee, found guilty, and sentenced to be hung, all of which he ac- knowledged to be just. At nine o'clock in the morning, Julj' eleventh, the bell of the Monumental Engine Company's house on the plaza, attracted everybody's attention — known, as it was, to be a signal of the vigilance committee, — and people soon be- gan to throng down in the direction of the committee's quarters. The bell tolled for about half an hour, guns were fired from a brig in the harbor, and many of the ves- sels in the harbor had their flags displayed. About half-past one o'clock, some one came out of the "chamber of judgment," and read a portion of Stuart's confession, and it was stated that he would be hung in an hour, — a proposition which the crowd sanc- tioned almost unanimously. The news spread, and the crowd increased im- mensely. The committee now came down stairs, and formed three abreast ; there were hundreds of them, principally com- posed of the oldest, best known, and most prominent citizens. Previous to this, a clergyman had been sent for, who remained with Stuart two hours. A gallows of plain uprights and a cross- beam had been erected, a block with a rope in it, and the noose ready made. On the way down, Stuart appeared perfectly cool and collected. On reaching the gallows, the rope was placed around his neck, and, with the exception of a slight paleness, there was no change in his appearance, no trembling, no agitation. He appeared to feel as though he was satisfied with his sentence and did not desire to live longer. The immense crowd remained breathless, and Stuart, when under the gallows, said, " / die reconciled ; my sentence is just." The rope was pulled, and in a moment he was swinging in the air. As he went up, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. He had previously requested that his face might not be covered. He scarcely gave a struggle ; and although the knot was on the back of his neck, appeared to suffer but little pain. A slight contrac- tion of the lower limbs, and a strained heaving of the chest for a moment, were all the symptoms of approaching death. After hanging about five minutes, his hat blew off, and exposed to view the ghastly features of the murderer and robber. 398 REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. "VVlien he had hung about twenty minutes, he was cut down by the coroner. There was no attempt at a rescue, and everything was conducted with perfect order, but the greatest determination. Stuart's confes- sion was one unvarying record of daring crimes, showing, in a startling manner, the dangers of California life and prop- erty. A large number of persons, some of them holding office, and of reputable stand- ij^, were implicated in Stuart's confession, — it appearing that the association of thieves, burglars, and assassins, to which Stuart belonged, extended throughout the entire state — that judges and public prose- cutors were in some places in league with the association — that subornation of per- jury was one of the commonest expedients to achieve the impunity of the criminal, and to baffle the working of the law — that the burninj;; of San Francisco was several times resolved upon in revenge — and that life wa= not regarded at a straw's value when money was to be obtained by murder. Determined to be thorough in their work of purification, the committee served no- tices upon every vicious or suspected per- son, whose name could be obtained, with a warning to depart forthwith. This, with the swift and terrible executions already witnessed, caused multitudes to flee for their lives. Crime rapidly diminished, and now, for the first time, almost, for years, citizens felt secure in their persons and possessions. But the vigilance of the committee did not for a moment relax, and, in a few weeks after the disposal of Stuart, they had in their hands two notorious robbers and incendiaries, named Whittaker and McKenzie. They were tried, found guilty, and condemned to the gallows. They themselves confessed their guilt, and a day ■was fixed for their execution. In the meantime. Governor McDougall issued a writ of habeas corpus, which was handed to Sheriff Hayes, commanding him to take the bodies of Whittakei- and McKenzie, and bring them into court, to be dealt with according to law. Colonel Hayes and some of his deputies immediately repaired to the rooms of the committee, having declined a posse of police offered to accompany them. The police, however, followed, with some stragglers who wished to see the result. The sheriff and Mr. Caperton walked up stairs and entered the room, unresisted. Mr. Caper- ton advanced to the room in which the prisoners were confined, announced him- self to be the deputy sheriff, and called on the two men, Whittaker and McKenzie, to accompany him, Colonel Hayes mean- time guarding the door. When the party- was about to leave, one of the committee laid his hand upon the sheriff's shoulder and attempted to push him from the door, but Colonel Hayes told him he was there to do his duty and was obliged to do it ; to prevent bloodshed, they were allowed to proceed. Two of the members of the com- mittee, suspecting treachery, had at the same time let themselves down from the windows, and at once gave the alarm by ringing the bell. This was a little before the break of day, and immediately the members came pour- ing in from all directions. Amid intense excitement, the meeting organized, and the circumstances were detailed. The person who had charge of the room was bitterly denounced. Various propositions were made, but no action taken. The se- quel was yet to come. It w-as about half-past two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, August 24th, that the belief the Monumental Engine Company CQ^imenced tolling in a very rapid manner, and the news soon spread like vifildfire, that the prisoners, Whittaker and McKenzie, had been taken out of the county jail by some members of the vigilance committee ! The manner of the rescue was as follows : About quarter-past two o'clock, the prison- ers were taken out of their cells to attend the usual Sunday services conducted by Rev. Mr. Williams. Soon after they were called out, the attention of Captain Lam- bert, keeper of the jail, was called to the gate, by the sentry who was on the roof, and instantly the doors were burst open, a SEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 399 rush made, and Captain Lambert thrown ipon the ground and lield. The prisoners were at the same moment seized and car- ried out. A carriage was outside, in which the criminals were placed, and a pair of fine, dashing gray horses sprang at the word in the direction of Dupont street. At this juncture, the bell of the Monu- mental was rung in quick, sharp strokes. The excitement and uproar were terrific, the multitude surging now this way, now that, as the carriage dashed fiercely along. Pistols were held at the heads of the cap- tives while they rode along, and almost before the crowd realized what had hap- pened, the prisoners were safe in the com- mittee's chamber of judgment. The pris- oners were taken by about forty armed persons, just as the sermon in the prison had been concluded, and recicted to the utmost the strong arm of the capturers, weapons being presented with deadly aim on both sides. From every ward in the city, and from the most remote suburban parts within the sound of the Vigilance bell, people came flocking, breathless and excited, to the scene of execution. The streets presented a scene of furious, mad disorder. Living masses surged down the by-ways, through the thoroughfares, and over the planked roads, until the tramp and roar of the mul- titude sounded like the beating of the ocean waves upon a stormy shore. Mont- gomery street poured its tide of human masses into California street, and the lat- ter emptied its living contents, like a mighty river, upon the spot where the prisoners had been taken by their captors, namely, the vigilance committee's cham- bers — two large frame-houses, ranged side by side, of two-story construction, their gable ends fronting Battery street, in the block between California and Pine streets. The lower floors of these buildings were oc- cupied as stores — the upper apartments as the Vigilance chambers, each having heavy double doors, opening upon Battery street, above which projected timbers and pulleys, such as are used in store-lofts for the pur- pose of hoisting goods from the ground. And now an outcry and huzza rent the air, and was borne up from the rooms of the committee far into the city, until ten thousand throats seemed to join in a gen- eral cheer and shout of congratulation. The committee were prepariny to execute justice upon the criminals! A carriage dashed round the corner and up California street. It was greeted with cheer after cheer. The driver stood up in his box, waved his hat, and huzzaed in reply. This was the carriage in which the prison- ers had been carried off from the county jail, and which was now returning from the committee rooms. It was drawn by gray-white horses, whose sides were reek- ing with foam and perspiration. In the southern chamber, a rope had been 'reeved' through the block attached to the beam above the left door. When the door of the northern chamber opened, a few members appeared without their coats, and addressed a few words to the masses below, announcing the capture of the prisoners. Cries of " hang them up ! " "now and here!" ensued, and the tumult each moment grew greater. " We have them — never year — it is all right" re- sponded the committee ; and a thundering shout of wild congratulation went up from the surging mass. A few of the commit- tee then smashed out the glass above the door of the southern chamber, and one of their number mounted into the opening, holding one end of a rope. Dexterously clinging to the clapboards on the outside, he managed to pass the rope thrdugh the block, and returned with the two ends to the floor. Both doors of the committee rooms were then closed — the fatal ropes inside. Seventeen minutes had now been spent in rescuing the prisoners from the jail, conveying them to the rooms, and com- pleting the preliminaries of their execu- tion. The great, dense, agitated crowd that covered the roofs, and clung by doz- ens to the sides of all the adjoining houses, and packed the streets, darkened the walls, ■and filled the rigging and boats along the docks, presented an awful and imposing 4U0 EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. EXECDTIOSS BY THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN SAN FRANCISCO. spectacle of excited, impatient and resolute manhood. Ten thousand faces were up- turned, when the doors of both chambers were simultaneously jerked open, present- ing to view each of the prisoners, half sur- rounded at each door by committee men. A terrific shout rent the air. The multitude tossed to and fro — above all, amid all, calmly but sternly stood the band of vigilants, and in their hands the fainting, drooping, gasping criminals, their arms pinioned and their feet secured. The rope was about their necks, their coats having been removed, and they stood aghast and trembling in the brief second of lifetime allowed them to confront the stormy sea of human beings below. An- other second of time, and they were tossed far out into space, and drawn like light- ning to the beam's end. Both were exe- cuted at one and the same instant, the signal being given throughout the cham- bers, and the members rushing back with the rope until the culprits each had been dragged to the block, and hung almost motionless by the neck. Then a few con- vulsive throbs, and all was over. McKen- zie was attired in gray pants and coarse shirt, and was hung from the beam in front of the northern room ; while J being dragged to the fatal spot from the further end of the room, he manifested the most overwhelming fright and terror, and the countenance he exhibited, when brought up to the door, was one never to be forgotten by those who looked upon it — his face was pallid, his eyes upturned, his hair appeared to stand out from the scalp, and every fiber of his flesh quivered and seemed to clutch existence. AVliittaker was more indifferent and unmoved; but he was cleanly dressed, and was much the bet- ter looking man of the two. Such terrible and repeated examples of swift justice at the hands of the commit- tee, proved effective, to a great degree, in cleansing San Francisco from the horde of criminals with which it had so sorely been infested, and, for a long time after, the citizens ceased to live in terror of burglars, robbers, assassins, and incendiaries. In Sacramento, too, where similar scenes of retribution had been enacted, resulting in the summary execution of those noted fel- ons. Roe, Robinson, Gibson, and Thomp- son, the work of reformation seemed well- nigh effectual. Indeed, the occupation of a vigilance committee appeared to be over EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 401 — and it existed, therefore, for j'ears, as scarcely more than a nominal organization. In 1856, however, crime had again be- come so rampant and stalked abroad with such impunity, that the vigilance com- mittee once more took justice into its own hands, with an iron and uncompromising sway, though this time not without a fearful struggle with the constituted authorities. The great exciting provocation to the resumption of the committee's work, at this period, was the deliberate and cold- blooded murder of James King of William (an appellation which he carried with him from Virginia), editor of the Evening Bul- letin, by James P. Casey, editor of the Sunday Times, both of San Francisco. Mr. King was one of the earliest emigrants to California, and was a man universally respected and admired for his probity and independence. He began the publication of the Bulletin with the avowed purpose of denouncing the political and moral cor- ruption which had gained for San Fran- cisco such an unenviable reputation. The manliness and courage with which he pur- sued this work of reform gained for him the friendship of right-minded peoj)le of every class, and, as a matter of course, the enmity of the dishonest and criminal. Casey, the murderer, was, both in private character and habits and in his connection with municipal politics, a man of the class to whom Mr. King was most likely to be obnoxious. On the fourteenth of May, Mr. King, in a rejoinder to an attack made upon him in the Times, stated that the editor of that journal, Casey, had been an inmate of Sing Sing prison, and had secured his election to an office in San Francisco by fraud. Casey called on King for satisfac- tion, failing to obtain which, he at once watched for him on the street, and, at five o'clock on the evening of the same day, the two met in public. With hardly a word of warning — giving his victim no time for defense, — Casey drew a revolver, and shot Mr. King through the left breast. The latter lingered for a few days and died on the 20th. 26 The murder was followed by the arrest of Casej', and he was conveyed to jail amidst intense jiopular excitement, his immediate execution being demanded by the infuriated multitude. A party of men, numbering several hundred, got together, armed themselves, jjut several small can- non on drays, and were on the point of starting to attack the jail, but finally de- sisted. It soon became evident that noth- ing could be done without an organization, now deemed imperative. A horde of mur- derers and other notoriously bad men had collected in the citj', and had long gone unpunished and unterrified. The next morning, therefore, the members of the old vigilance committee met, and began to admit new members. For three days they sat in almost constant session secretly. About twenty-five hundred members, olil and new, were admitted, these binding themselves to obej^ a committee of fifty, who alone knew what was to be done. On the following Sundaj- morning, the committee were ordered to assemble, and Ije armed with a musket and revolver each. They were divided off into companies, and officers appointed. A six-pounder cannon was provided, and at ten o'clock they marched to the jail, which they sur- rounded. The cannon was loaded, and every musket was loaded with ball and had a fixed bayonet. At one o'clock, Casey, at his own request, — desirous, as he said, to prevent bloodshed, — was surrendered to the committee, who conducted him in a carriage to their chambers. Subsequently they took Charles Cora, the murderer of General Richardson, United States mar- shal, unconvicted on account of the jury disagreeing, and lodged him in one of their rooms. All this took place amidst the most perfect silence and order ; the forces of the committee marched to the jail with- out bugle or drum, and hardly a word was spoken, even by the thousands of specta- tors who witnessed the scene. The funeral of Mr. King was marked by every manifestation of popular respect for the deceased. Stores were closed, houses were hung with black, men wore crape on 402 EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. their arms, hells were tolled, and flags were displayed at half-mast. Meanwhile, Casey and Cora's crimes had been adjudged worthy of death, and, notwithstanding the great gathering at the funeral, the rooms of the committee were surrounded by about twenty thousand people, who had got an intimation that the committee, fearing a rescue, had determined to hang the crimi- nals forthwith. A most formidable guard was arranged by the committee, numbering about three thousand stand of muskets and two field- pieces. The streets in the immediate vi- cinitj' of the rooms were cleared by the soldiers, and the bristling bayonets that were displayed in every direction made the scene one of great solemnity. At about one o'clock, the workmen were seen preparing the gallows in front of the committee rooms, — now located in a two- story granite building, — a platform being extended from each of two front windows of the second floor, extending about three feet beyond the line of the building, and provided with a hinge at the outer line of the window sill, the extreme end being held up by means of a cord attached to a beam, which projected from the roof of the building, and to which the fatal rope was also attached. Soon the prisoners were brought to the windows, in view of the multitude, dressed in their usual garments, and mounted the platform, having their arms pinioned. They both appeared to be firm, and but little affectad by the dreadful fate that awaited them. Before placing the rope upon their necks, an opportunity was given them to speak to the people assembled. Casey made a few remarks, but Cora did not speak. At twenty minutes past one o'clock, everything being ready, the signal was given, the cord that held up the outer end of the scaffolds or platforms was cut upon the roof of the building, and the doom- ed men were both launched into eternity. The work of death being ended, the body of armed men who had acted as guards, were all drawn up in line, and reviewed by the superior officers ; after which, they countermarched down to the rooms, and, entering one door, stacked their arms, filed out at another door, and mingled with the citizens. Extending its operations throughout the state, the committee determined to effect a complete renovation of society, — to break up and drive from the state the bands of felons with which it was infested, — and to awe into submission the political bullies who so largely controlled the elections. After executing some four criminals, and transporting or banishing many more, thus securing comparative quiet and order, the committee relinquished its administra- tion of justice ; the same was the case in Sacramento, Stockton, San Jose, and other places, where crime, unawed and unpun- ished by courts, had been thus summarily and sternly dealt with by an outraged community. The committee on no occa- . sion denied the illegality of their acts; they defended their course solely on the ground that there was no security for life or property either under the regulations of societj', as then existing, or under the laws as then administered. VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT "AMERICA," IN THE GREAT INTERNATIONAL REGATTA.— 1851. She Distances, by Nearly Eight Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors, and Wins " the Cup of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind Ever Known. — Queen Victoria Witnesses the Match — Universal Astonishment at the Result. — Adniiration Elicited by the " America's" Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig. — Scenes at the " World's Exhibition " at London — Grand Finale Yet to Come Off — Championship of the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point — Her Motto, " Rule Britannia !" — George Steers Builds the America. — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to England. — His Challenge to All Countries — An International Prize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered. — The Scene on Wave and Shore. — All Sails Set : The Signal. — Every Eye on " the Yankee." — Her Leisurely Movements. — Allows Herself to be Distanced — Her Quality Soon Shown. — No " Belly inp" of Canvas. — Amazing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria. On erery Bide waa he&ri the hail, " Is the America firet? DOIT Times. -The answer, " Tk8 I "— *' What'B second ?"— The reply, *' NoTBltro I "— LoN- ^\ EATIFYINGr, in the highest degree, to the pride of every American, was the announcement that, in the great and exciting international yacht race, — which formed, in an important sense, the grand finale of the " Exhibition of the Industrj' of AH Nations," held in London, in 1851, — the victory had been won by the clipper yacht America, of one hundred and seventy tons, built by Mr. George Steers, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and commanded by Commodore John C. Stevens, also of New York. The prize was no less than "The Cup of all Na- tions." Making but an indifferent show of contributions to the various departments of art, science, and manufactures, at that renowned exposition, the conclusion had become universal, that the United States would gain but little eclat in that magnifi- cent congress of the industries of civilization. One trial of championship, however, was yet to be made and determined, — the supremacy, in respect to architectural model, equipment, nautical skill, and power of speed, upon that element, the dominion of which has ever been the coveted achievement of every maritime coun- 404 VICTORIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. try, and of England in particular, — the high claims jiut forth by the latter being well understood. How hajjpily it was reserved for the United States to take thia honor to her- self, in a manner, too, undreamed of by any compeer or rival, will appear from the following history of the great fact, as given at the time by the press of both England and America. Indeed, in respect to the English journals and the English public, it can truly be said, that fair ^)/«y and inanly acknowledgment of a fair heat were never more honorably exhibited. And this last-named fact is all the more credit- able, when all the circumstances of the case are considered. A large portion of the British i)eerage and gentry left their residences and forsook their usual diver- sions, to witness the struggle between the yachtsmen of England, hitherto unmatched and unchallenged, and the Americans who had crossed the Atlantic to meet them. All the feelings of that vast population swarming in British ports and firmly believing in " Rule Britannia," as an arti- cle of national faith ; all the prejudices of the nobility and wealthy aristocracj^, who regarded the beautiful vessels in which they cruised about the channel and visited the shores of the Mediterranean every summer as the perfection of naval archi- tecture, were roused to the highest degree ; and even the Queen of England did not deem the occasion unworthy of her pres- ence. Until the very day, August twenty- second, 1851, of this celebrated contest, no Englishman ever dreamed that any nation could produce a yacht witTi the least pre- tensions to match the efforts of AVhite, Camper, Ratsey, and other eminent build- ers ; and in the pages of the Yacht List for that very year (1851), there was an assertion which every man within sight of sea water from the Clyde to the Solent would swear to, namely, that " yacht build- ing was an art in which England was unrivaled, and that she was distinguished pre-eminentl}' and alone for the perfection of science in handling them." Of the sev- enteen yacht clubs in various parts of the united kingdom, not one of them had ever seen a foreigner enter the lists in the annual matches. It was just known that there was an imperial yacht club in St. Petersburg, maintained, it was affirmed, by the imperial treasury, to encourage a nautical spirit among the nobility, and that a few owners of j'achts at Rotterdam had enrolled themselves as a club ; but, till the America came over, the few who were aware of the fact that there was a flourishing club in New York did not regard it as of the slightest consequence, or as at all likely to interfere with their monopoly of the glory of the manliest of all sports. The few trial runs made by the America, on her arrival in English waters, proved her to be of great speed, and satis- fied the English critics that her owners were not so little justified as at first they had been thought, in offering to back an untried vessel against any other yacht for the large sum of fifty thousand dollars, or for a cup or piece of plate. An inter- esting reminiscence or two, in this connec- tion, related by Colonel Hamilton, a mem- ber of the club, may here be given, namely : There had previously been some t.alk among the members of the New York yacht club, of a race with the yachts of England, and Mr. W. H. Brown, the well- known and skillful ship-builder, had under- taken to build a schooner that should out- sail any other vessel at home or abroad, and he agreed to make the purchase of her contingent upon her success. His offer was accepted by the j^acht club. And now, to the master hand and brain of that accomplished architect, George Steers, was confided the task of furnishing the model of this — to be — nautical wonder. Tlie America was built. Failing, however, in repeated trials, to beat Commodore Stevens's yacht Maria, the club were not bound to purchase. But the liberality of the original oifer was so great, in assuming all risk, and the vessel in fact proved her- self so fast, that several gentleman, the ' commodore at the head, determined to buy VICTOEIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA, 405 her and send her out. She was accord- ingly purchased, and sent to Havre, there to await the arrival of the members of the club, who were to sail her, they following in a steamer. Everything being made ready and com- pleted at Havre, they sailed thence to Cowes, a seaport of the Isle of Wight — the scene of the contemplated regatta. Their arrival was greeted with every hospitality and courtesy, not only by the noblemen and gentlemen of the royal yacht club, but by the officers of government. Lord Palmerston issued an order that the Amer- ica should be admitted in all the English ports on the footing of English yachts; the custom-houses were all made free to her; and the admiral of the station at GEORGE STEERS. Portsmouth offered every assistance and civility. The Earl of Wilton, and the veteran Marquis of Anglesea, the latter eighty years of age, were among the first visitors on board. When the time for the regatta came, which was to take place on the most dan- gerous course possible for a stranger — in the waters of the Isle of Wight, with their currents and eddies, familiar only to those accustomed to the water — great solicitude was naturally felt by the Americans, as to the pilot to be employed. Warnings of all sorts, from various quarters, reached them, not to rely too much on any pilot that might offer; and the commodore was naturally perplexed. But here again the English admiral, with an intuitive percep- tion of the difficulty — of which no men- tion, nevertheless, had ever been made to liim — told Commodore Stevens that he would furnish him with a pilot for whom he himself would be answerable. The offer was as frankly accepted as it was honorably made. The pilot came on board, and never, for a moment, was there a suspicion on any mind that he was not thoroughly honest and reliable. Yet, so strong was the distrust among Americans outside, that even after the pilot was in charge, the commodore was warned, by letter, not to trust too much to him, and urged to take another pilot to overlook him. But the commodore's own loyalty of character would not entertain such a proposition — he gave his confidence to the pilot the admiral sent him, and it was completely justified. The London Times said that never, in the history of man, did Cowes present such an appearance as on the eventful day appointed for this race. Upwards of one hundred yachts lay at anchor in the roads ; the beach was crowded ; and the esplanade in front of the club swarmed with ladies and gentlemen, and with the people inland, who came over in shoals, with wives, sons, and daughters, for the day. Booths were erected all along the quay, and the road- stead was alive with boats, while from sea and shore arose an incessant buzz of voices mingled with the splashing of oars, the flapping of sails, and the hissing of steam, from the excursion vessels prepar- ing to accompany the race. Flags floated from the beautiful villas which stud the wooded coast, and ensign and bargee, rich with the colors of the various clubs or the devices of the yachts, flickered gayly out in the soft morning air. The windows of the houses which commanded the harbor were filled from the parlor to the attic, and the "old salts " on the beach gazed moodily on the low black hull of " the Yankee," and spoke doubtfully of the chances of her competitors. Some thought " the Vo- lante " might prove a teaser if the wind was light; others speculated on "the Alarm" doing mischief, if there was wind enough to bring out the qualities of that 406 VICTOEIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA, large cutter in beating up to windward and in tacking ; while more were of the opinion that the America would carry off the cup, "blow high — blow low." It was with the greatest difficulty the little town gave space enough to the multitudes that came from all quarters to witness an event so novel and interesting. Among the vis- itors were countless strangers — Frenchmen en route for Havre, Germans in quiet won- derment at the excitement around them, and Americans already triumphing in the anticipated success of their countrymen. Eighteen yachts were entered, and were moored in a double line from Cowes castle, the Beatrice being nearest that point, the America about midway, and the Aurora farthermost. The mist which hung over the fields and woods from sunrise was car- ried off about nine o'clock by a very gentle breeze from the westward, which veered round a little to the south soon afterwards, and the morning became intensely warm. At five minutes before ten o'clock, the preparatory gun was fired from the club- house battery, and the yachts were soon sheeted from deck to topmast with clouds of canvas, huge gaff topsails and balloon jibs being greatly in vogue, and the Amer- ica evincing her disposition to take advan- tage of her new jib by hoisting it with all alacrity. The whole flotilla, not in the race, were already in motion, many of them stretching down towards Osborne and Hyde, to get a good start of the clip- pers. Of the yachts that entered, fifteen started, seven of these being schooners and eight cutters. Precisely at ten o'clock, the signal gun for sailing was fired, and before the smoke had well cleared away the whole of the beautiful fleet was under way, moving steadily to the east, with the tide and a gentle breeze. The start was effected splendidly, the yachts breaking away like r. field of race-horses ; the only laggard was the America, which did not move for a second or so after the others. Steamers, shore-boats, and yachts, of all sizes, buzzed along on each side of the course, and spread away for miles over the rippling sea — a sight such as the Adriatic never beheld in all the pride of Venice — such, indeed, as was never before known in the annals of yachting. Soon after they started, a steamer went off from the roads with the members of the sailing committee — Sir B. Graham, Bart., commodore, of the royal yacht squadron, and other distin- guished gentlemen. The American minis- ter, Hon. Abbott Lawrence, and his son. Colonel Lawrence, attache to the American legation, arrived too late for the sailing of the America, but were accommodated ou board the steamer, and went round the island in her. The Gipsey Queen, with all her canvas set and in the strength of the tide, took the lead after starting, with the Beatrice next, and then, with little difference in order, the Volante, Constance, Arrow, and a flock of others. The America went easily for some time under mainsail, (with a small gaff-topsail of a triangular shape, braced up to the truck of the short and slender stick which served as her main-top- mast,) foresail, fore-staysail and jib ; while her competitors had every cloth set that the club regulations allowed. She soon began to creep upon them, passing some of the cutters to windward. In a quarter of an hour she had left them all behind, except the Constance, Beatrice, and Gipsey Queen, which were well to- gether, and went along smartly with the light breeze. Once or twice the wind freshened a little, and at once the Amer- ica gathered wa}', and passed ahead of the Constance and Beatrice. Another puff came, and she made a dart to pas.s the Gipsey Queen, but the wind left her sails, and the little Volante came skimming past her with a stupendous jib, swallowing up all the wind that was blowing. The glo- rious pageant, passing under Otiborne- liouse, formed a pageant surpassingly fine, the whole expanse of sea, from shore to shore, being filled as it were with a count- less fleet, while the dark hull of the Ven- geance, eighty-four, in the distance at Spithead, towered in fine relief above the tiny little craft that danced around her ; VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 407 the green hills of Hcampshire, the white batteries of Portsmouth, and the pictur- esque coast of Wight, forming a fine frame-work for the picture. As the Volante passed the America, great was the delight of the patriotic,, but the nautical knowing ones shook their heads, and said the triumph would be short-lived ; the breeze was freshening, and then the sprightly cutter must give way, though she was leading the whole squadron at the time. At half-past ten, the Gipsey Queen caught a draught of densely crowded. But the America was forging ahead, and lessening the number of her rivals every moment. The Sand- heads were rounded by the Volante, Gipsey Queen, and America, without any perceptible change in point of time, at eleven o'clock, the last being apparently to leeward. Again, the wind freshened, and the fast yachts came rushing up before it, the run from the Sandheads being most exciting, and well contested. Here one of the West India mail steamers was ob- served paddling her best, to come in for YACHT AMERICA : J. C, STEVENS, COM. wind and ran past the Volante, — the Con- stance, America, Arrow, and Alarm, being nearly in a line ; but in fifteen minutes, the breeze freshened again for a short time and the America passed the Arrow, Constance, and Alarm, but could not shake off the Volante nor come up to the Gipsey Queen, and exclamations were heard of " Well, Brother Jonathan is not going to have it all his own way," etc. Passing Ryde, the excitement on shore was very great, and the vast pier was some of the fun, and a slight roll of the set inwards began to impart a livelier motion to the yachts, and to render excur- sionists, whether male or female, ghastly^ looking and uncomfortable. The yachts Volante, Freak, Aurora Gipsey Queen, America, Beatrice, Alarm, Arrow, and Bacchante, were timed off Norman's Land buoy ; the other six were staggering about in the rear, and the Wyvern soon afterwards hauled her wind, and went back towards Cowes. 408 VICTOEIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. At this point, the wind blew somewhat more steadily, and the America began to show a touch of her quality. Whenever the breeze took the line of her hull, all the sails set as flat as a drumhead, and, with- out any careening or staggering, she " walked along " past cutter and schooner, and, when off Brading, had left every vessel in the squadron behind her, with the exception of the Volante, which she overtook at half-past eleven, when she very quietly hauled down her jib, — as much as to say she would give her rival every odds, — and laid herself out for the race round the back of the island. The weather showed signs of improvement, as far as yachting was concerned ; a few sea- horses waved their crests over the water, the high lands on shore put on their fleecy "nightcaps" of cloud, and the horizon looked delightfully threatening ; and now " the Yankee " flew like the wind, leaping over, not against, the water, and increasing her distance from the Gipsey Queen, Volante, and Alarm, every instant. The way her sails were set evinced superiority in the cutting which the English makers would barely allow, but, certain it was, that while the jibs and mainsails of her antagonists were "bellied out," her canvas was as flat as a sheet of paper. No foam, but rather a water-jet rose from her bows ; and the greatest jioint of resistance — for resistance there must be somewhere — seemed about the beam, or just forward of her mainmast, for the seas flashed off from her sides at that point every time she met them. While the cutters were thrashing through the water, sending the spray over their bows, and the schooners were wet up to the foot of the foremast, the America was as dry as a bone. She had twent3'-one persons on her deck, consisting of the owners, the crew, cook, and steward, a Cowes pilot, and some seamen. They nearly all sat aft, and, when the vessel did not require any handling, crouched down on the deck by the weather bulwarks. The Gipsey Queen, when a little past Brading, seemed to have carried away her foresail sheets, but even had it not been so, she had lost all chance of success. The America, as the wind increased, and it was now a six-knot breeze, at least, hauled down her wee gaff-topsail, and went away under mainsail, foresail, and fore-staysail, so that it required the utmost the steamer could do to keep alongside of her. Th is ivas her quickest bit of sailing, for on rounding the east point of the island it was necessary to beat to the westward, in order to get along the back of the Wight. At 11:37, the Arrow, Bacchante, Con- stance, and Gipsey Queen, stood away to the north, to round the Nab, imagining that it was requisite to do so, as the usual course was to go outside the lightship, though the cards did not specify it on this occasion. The America and most of the other yachts kept their course round the Foreland and by Bembridge. She ran past the white and black buoys at a tre- mendous rate, and, at 11 : 47, tacked to the west, and stood in towards the Culver cliffs, the nearest yacht being at least two miles to leeward or astern of her. She was not very quick in stays on this occasion, and it would seem she was not very regular in that maneuver, sometimes taking a minute, sometimes thirty seconds, to perform it. At 11 : 58, she stood out again to the south- east, and, having taken a stretch of a mile or so, went about and ran in towards San- down. The breeze died off at this point, and to keep the cutters and light craft off, the America hoisted her gaff-topsail and jib once more. Under Shauklin Chine the set of the tide ran heavily against her, but still there was nothing to fear, for her rivals were miles away, some almost hull down. While running under Dunnose, at 12 : 58, her jib-boom broke short off; it was broken by mismanagement on the part of the men when straining on it with the windlass, and did not snap from the action of the sail. This accident threw her up in the wind, and gave the advantage of about a quarter of an hour to her opponents, while she was gathering in the wreck. But it was of little use to them. Looking away to the east, they were visible at VICTOEIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMEEICA. 409 great distances, standing in shore, or running in and out, most helplessly astern — the Aurora, Freak, and Volante, in spite of light winds and small tonnage, heing two or three miles behind The wind fell off very much for more than an hour, and it was but weary work stretching along the coast against a baffling tide, every moment making the loss of her ^ib of greater consequence to the America OCP OF ALL KATIONS," WON BY IHE AMERICA. At about 3 : 20, the breeze freshened, and the America, still some miles ahead, slipped along on her way, making tacks with great velocity, and standing well up to windward. Her superiority was so decided that several of the yachts wore, and ivent hack agaiii to Cowes in despair ; and, for some time, the America increased her distance every second, the Aurora, Freak, and Volante, keeping in a little squadron together — tack for tack — and running along close under the cliffs. This was rather unfortunate in one respect, for, in going about, the Freak fouled the Volante and carried away her jib-boom ; and the boatman's pet became thereby utterly disabled, and lost the small glimpse of fortune which the light winds might have given her. Meanwhile, minute after minute, " the Yankee " was gaining ground, and at 3 : 30 was flying past St. Lawrence towards Old Castle, while the Bacchante and Eclipse, which had been working along honestly and steadily, were about two and a half miles to leeward behind her. Further away still, were visible five or six j-achts, some hull down, some dipi^ed further still, digging into the tideway as hard as they could, and lying into the wind as well as their sails might stand it. By this time, the America had got the wind on her quarter, having gone round Eocken-end, and thus having a tolerably fair course from the south to north-west, up to the Needles, the wind being light and the water somewhat broken. The persons on board the steamers were greatly astonished at seeing ahead of the America, after she had rounded Eocken-end, a fine cutter with a jib and foresail together — "two single gentlemen rolled into one," bowling away with all speed, as if racing away for her life, and it was sometime before they could be persuaded she was not the Aurora; but she was in reality the Wildfire, forty-two tons, which was taking a little share in the match to herself, and had passed the End at 3 : 40. The Amer- ica, however, bore straight down for the cutter, which was thoroughly well-sailed, and passed her after a stern chase of more than an hour, though the Wildfire, when first sighted, was reckoned to be some two and a half miles ahead. At 5 : 40, the Aurora, the nearest yacht, was fully seven and one-half miles astern, the Freak being about a mile more distant, and the rest being "nowhere." The America was at this time close to the Needles, upon which she was running with a light breeze all in her favor. 410. VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. Two of the excursion steamers ran into Alum Bay, and anchored there to see the race round the Needles. While waiting there in intense anxiety for the first vessel that should shoot round the immense pil- lars of chalk and limestone which bear the name, the passengers were delighted to behold the Victoria and Albert, with the royal standard at the main, and the Lord Admiral's flag at the fore, steaming round from the north-west, followed by the Fairy, and the little dock-yard tender. Her majesty, Prince Albert, and the royal family, were visible by the aid of a glass from the deck of the steamers. The royal yacht went past the Needles, accompanied by the Fairy, at 5 : 35, but quickly re- turned, and at 5 : 45 lay to, off Alum Bay. The Fairy was signaled to proceed round the Needles, to bring tidings of the race, and at once started on her errand. But all doubt and speculation, if any there could have been, was soon removed by the appearance of the America hauling her wind round the cliff, at 6 : 50. The breeze fell dead under the sliore, and the America lowered out her foresail and fore- staysail so as to run before it. All the steamers weighed and accompanied her, giving three cheers as she passed, a com- pliment which owners and crews acknowl- edged with uncovered heads and waving hats. At 6 : 04 the Wildfire rounded the Needles, and bore away after the schooner, which by this time had got almost in a line with the Victoria and Albert ; and, though it is not usual to recognize the presence of her majesty on such occasions as a racing match — no more, indeed, than a jockey would pull up his horse to salute the queen, when in the middle of his stride, — the America instantly lowered her ensign, blue with white stars, the commo- dore took off his hat, and all his crew, fol- lowing his order and example, remained with uncovered heads for some minutes, till they had passed the royal yacht. The steamers, as she passed on, renewed their cheering. On turning towards the Needles, at 6:30, not a sail was in sight, but the breeze was so very light that all sailing might be said to have finished ; and it was evident that the America had won the cup, unless some light cutter ran up with a breeze in the dusk and slipped past her. The steamers returned towards Cowes, and the ro^al yacht, having run close by the America under half-steam for a short dis- tance, went on towards Osborne. Off Cowes were innumerable j-achts, and on every side was heard the hail, "7s the America first?" — The answer, "Yes." "What's second?"— The reply, "Noth- intj." As there was no wind, the time con- sumed in getting up from Hurst Castle to the winning flag was very considerable, the America's arrival first not having been announced by gunfire till 8 : 37. The Aurora, which slipped up very rapidly after rounding the Needles, in consequence of her light tonnage and a breath of wind, was signaled at 8 : 45 ; the Bacchante at 9 : 30 ; the Eclipse at 9 : 45 ; the Brilliant at 1 : 20 a. m., August 23d. The rest were not timed. Thus the America made good all her professions, and to Commodore Stevens was presented, by the royal yacht squadron, the well-won cup. On the evening after the race there was a splendid display of fire-works by land and water along the club-house esplanade, at which thousands of persons were pres- ent. A re-union also took place at the club-house, and the occasion was taken of the Hon. Abbott Lawrence's presence to compliment him on the success of his countrj'men ; to which his excellency made a suitable reply, humorously remarking that, though he could not but be proud of his fellow-citizens, he still felt it was but the children giving a lesson to the father — and if the America should be purchased by English friends, the Yankees would nevertheless try to build something better in New York, so as to beat even her ! The queen having intimated her desire to inspect the America, the latter sailed from Cowes to Osborne, where the Victoria and Albert also dropped down. As the queen, with Prince Albert, and suite, neared VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 411 the America, the national colors of that vessel were dipped, out of respect to lier majesty, and raised again when she had proceeded on board. The queen made a close inspection of the vessel, attended by Commodore Stevens, Colonel Hamilton, and the offiuers of the yacht, remaining half an hour on board, and expressing great admiration of the famous schooner. Indeed, the America's beautiful and ingen- ious mode!, and her remarkable sailing qualities, were the astonishment of every- body. The triumph of the America was due alike to her superior model and to the unique cut and fit of her sails. The first thing that met the eye, whether the vessel was afloat or in dock, was the position of the greatest transverse section — in ap- pearance situated at about ten-seventeenths of her whole length from forward ; at this section, the bottom was nearly straight for several feet out from the keel, while the two sides included an angle of about one hundred degrees. At the forepart, her appearance contrasted strangely with the observances of modern ship-building. namely, the avoidance of hollow water- lines, hers being very concave, and her forefoot exceedingly short, or, in other words, the lower part of the stem and gripe forming a long curve, and therefore only a small rudder being needed; in con- sequence of this, there was, in steering, but little impediment opposed to her pas- sage through the water ; the great draught of her water aft, eleven feet four inches, with only six feet forward, added also to her facility in steering. Any defect that might be expected to result from this in sailing on a wind, was quite avoided by her great depth of keel, — two feet two inches amidships. The copper was placed upon her bottom with great care, and every possible projection avoided, in order to diminish the friction in passing through the water. But by far the most distin- guishing feature of the America was the set of her sails. The bellying of the sails of yachts universally — not only when running free, but also when sailing on a wind — was, in the case of the America, avoided to a very great extent, and from this arose much of her superiority. LI. RECEPTION OF GOV. KOSSUTH, THE GREAT HUNGA- RIAN EXILE, AS THE INVITED GUEST OF THE NATION.— 1851. Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by President Fill- more. — Received willi Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — He Eloquently Pleads His Country's Cause in all Parts of the Land. — Processions, Congratulatory Addresses, Accla- mations, etc. — A True-Hearted Patriot — Wliat Hungary Fought for. — Austrian Despotism Resisted. — Independence Demanded. — Kossuth the Leading Champion. — Armies in the Field. — Successes and Reverses. — Russia's Sword for Austria. — Kossuth's Flight to Turkey. — Long an Exile There. — America Interposes for Him. — Offers a Conveyance to the United States. — Tlie Nation's Courtesy Accepted. — Frigate Mississippi Sent. — Kossath and Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. — Magnificent Preparations for Him. — Invited to Washington. — Speech before Congress. — An Unprec- edented Distinction. — His Untiring Labors. — Greatest Orator of the Day. " Freedom and Home t what henvenlr mueic in those wordfll AUb, I have no home, and tb« fisedom of my people ia down-trodden." ^KOSSUTU.UN U18 AbRITAL IN AMKBIC*. ^OSSUTH'S reception in the United States, as the great ^ advocate of Hungarian independence, was, in some of its I P most interesting aspects, like that accorded to the ilhistri- KECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 413 ous Lafayette. In the case of Kossuth, however, instead of homage for services rendered in the dark hour of our nation's peril, the welcome extended him was the tribute, spontaneous as well as universal, of a great and admiring republic, to one of the bravest and most eloquent of jja- triots, enthusiastically appealing, in his -^xile, to the generous sympathies of man- kind, in behalf of his father-land, — a jjeople strong and valorous, but crushed beneath the heavy chains of Austrian despotism, backed by the power of Russian baj'onets. Louis Kossuth was born in 1806, at !Monok, in the north of Hungarj', of pa- rents not rich, yet possessing land, and calling themselves noble. His native dis- trict was a Protestant one, and in the pastor of that district young Kossuth found his first teacher. His parents dj'ing, the youth, more devoted to books than farming, was dispatched to the provincial college, where he remained till the age of eighteen, having earned even at that time the reputation of being the most able and promising youth of the whole district. In 1826, he removed to the university of Pesth, where he came in contact with the progressive political influences and ideas of the time ; and these, blending with his own historic studies and youthful hoj^es, soon produced the ardent, practical patriot. According to the constitution of Hun- gary, the electoral body — called "Comi- tats," — treated those elected to sit in the Diet more as delegates than as deputies. They gave them precise instructions, and expected the members not only to conform to them, but to send regular accounts of their conduct to their constituents for due sanction, and with a view to fresh instruc- tions. This kind of communication was rather an onerous task for the Hungarian country gentlemen, and hence many of the deputies employed such young men as Kossuth to transact their political business, and conduct their correspondence. Acting in this capacity for many members of the Diet, Kossuth not only became an expert parliamentary agent, but won great polit- ical esteem and influence. This kind of position soon made Kos- suth a member himself, and from the very first he distinguished himself in the Diet as a speaker. Under his lead, too, the Diet proceeded to establish a journal for the publication of its debates, but which, being garbled and curtailed by the Aus- trian censors, soon passed into Kossuth's hands exclusively, who extended the scope of the journal by inserting editorial arti- cles. The character of these articles so incensed the Austrian authorities, that they seized his presses. In a short time, however, Kossuth's rejjorts and articles were printed b}' the then new method of lithograjjhy, and circulated even more largely, notwithstanding the increased labor and expense. This success but redoubled the inveteracy of the Austrian government, which dissolved the Diet, and were no sooner rid of its control and importunity, than they discovered and destroyed all Kossuth's lithographic appa- ratus. But even this did not stop his pen nor those of his many amanuenses ; until at last Metternich, the prime minister, ex- asperated by Kossuth's obstinacy, caused him to be seized and condemned to impris- onment, for the crime of treason. The indignation and agitation which followed this act, ended, eventually, in his release. Unterrified by prisons and dungeons, Kossuth, aided by the counsels and co-ope- ration of his associates, continued to stir the hearts of his countr^nnen, and to demand political independence for his country. Among the many men of noble birth, wealth, national renown, and exalted talents, who surrounded him, Kossuth shone pre-eminent In 1847, he was the acknowledged leader of the constitutional party, and member for the Hungarian cap- ital. Nor did he falter when many broke off from him, and refused to follow his extreme measures of resistance. Of this last class were the Hungarian aristocracy, turning to whom, Kossuth ironically said, " Witk you, if you choose ; without you, or against you, if it inust be." The vehemency with which he advo- cated the right and ability of the people of 414 RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. Hungary to govern themselves was aston- ishing, and multitudes rallied to his stand- ard. Nothing in modern eloquence equals his speeches and proclamations at this time. He also vigorously assailed the tariff system imposed upon Hungary, and which crippled her industry, thrift, and power, — a point which he used to great advantage in gaining public opinion. Up to 1847, he thus continued, with matchless eloquence and amazing activity, to secure a reform in the institutions and laws affecting his country, — a transformation of her moral, political, and material interests, as against the hostile polic}- of Austrian absolutism. It was a struggle for the rights of Hungary, in all circumstances and against all foes. And now came that eventful year in the history of Europe, 1848, which drove Louis Philippe in terror from the throne of France, and filled almost every capital of empires and king- doms with the bayonets of those who, long oppressed, resolved now to be free. Tliis was the hour for Hungary, and Kossuth was the man ! In a long series of years, with the pen, with the press, and as an orator, be had circumvented and repelled the arts of Austrian despotism. The time had now come to create a treasury, organ- ize an army, and accept the wager of battle. Under the lead of Kossuth's ani- mating spirit was this accomplished ; and the motley bands of Hungarian recruits, under the direction of Kossuth as governor of the nation, waged, for a time, such vic- torious warfare against the veteran legions of Austria, as fairly astonished the world. It was in March, 1848, that the spirit of revolution broke out in Vienna, the Aus- trian capital. Metternich, the wily tool of tyrants, fled in dismay. Kossuth en- tered the capital in triumph ! Terror- stricken at the gulf of ruin which yawned before him, the emperor made haste to grant concessions, namely, the emancipa- tion of the Hungarian peasantry from feudal burdens, a fair representation of the whole people in the Diet, the abolition of all exemptions from taxation, the freedom of the press, and trial by jury. But, not- withstanding the emperor's assent to these enactments, the Austrian government was soon engaged in fomenting grave difficul- ties in Hungarian affairs, and this led to those great military preparations on the part of Kossuth, which rapidly took the form of active and bloody war. With great vigor and spirit did the brave Hungarians carry on the campaign, and for a time their armies were every- where successful. But afterwards, Russia came and flung both sword and purse into the scale, and, though the armies of the tyrants had suffered five great defeats and lost every military position they had gained, the odds of numbers against the struggling patriots had now become too vast to admit of successful resistance on their part. Buda was stormed and taken possession of by the Hungarians in May, but immense Russian forces were in a few weeks collected on the frontiers, and in July they simultaneously poured into Hun- gary from the north and east, while the Croats, under Jellachich, advanced from the south, and the Austrians from the west. The struggle was soon terminated. Gorgey, the Hungarian general, surren- dered with his army of forty thousand men to the Russians, only two days after the governorship of the country had been resigned to him by Kossuth. Other sur- renders soon followed, and thus the wal ended. EECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 415 During this struggle, the forces brought into the field at any one time by the Hun- garians, never exceeded one hundred and thirty-five thousand men, with four hun- dred pieces of artillery ; against whom were opposed, in the final campaign, one hundred and fifty thousand Russians, and one hundred and ten thousand Austrian troops, besides insurgent Wallacks, Servi- ans, etc., making a total of three hundred thousand men. Thus jjerlshed, through Russian inter- vention, the cause of Hungarian nation- ality. Kossuth's name had been nailed to the Austrian gallows, and he fled as an exile into Turkey. Austria and Russia de- manded that he be delivered up, but France and England interposed iu his behalf, and the sultan continued to protect him in the asylum which he had chosen. At length, the offer of a resolution in the senate of the United States, that the American govern- ment should exert its influence in behalf of the exiles, seemed likely to solve the difficulty. This resolution passed. As soon as the sultan — who certainly had risked the safety of Turkey in disregard- ing the threats of Austria and Russia — received the assurance of the support of America and England, he not only at- tached no condition to their liberation, but gave them the choice of being conveyed to England or America, as they preferred. The legation of the United States at Con- stantinople having assured Kossuth that no restraint would be put upon his liberty in America, he gratefully accepted the offer made by congress, and wrote a letter of thanks to President Fillmore. In September, 1851, the fine American steam-frigate Mississippi arrived for the conveyance of the late governor of Hun- gary, his wife, his three children, and his friends, to whatever countr}' they desired. Soliman Bey, the Turkish guard of the refugees during their exile, and who had never failed in the most respectful atten- tions to thera, was overcome with emotion when Kossuth came to leave, and in part- ing said to him, " You are free, and now you will find friends everywhere ; do not forget those who were your friends when you had no other." From their first entrance into Turkey to the hour of their leaving, the Hungarians had experienced unvarying kindness, hospitality, and cour- tesy. Kossuth proposed to pay a short visit to England, on his way to the United States. As the Mississippi approached the coasts of Italy and France, bonfires were kindled along the heights, as a sign of rejoicing. Kossuth proposed to stop at Marseilles, and travel thence to England, but the French authorities, by direction of Louis Napoleon, would not permit him to land. The people of France, however, gave him ample demonstration that they were not responsible for the acts of the government ; they crowded around the ship, offering him garlands of laurel, while they pre- sented wreaths of everlasting to the Amer- icans, and filled the air with enthusiastic cheers. While opposite the shores of Marseilles, an operative came, notwith- standing the cold, swimming through the water, on board the frigate, to grasp Kos- suth's hand. Kossuth pressed the work- man's hand most warmly, and gently reproached him for his temerity. 'Que voulez vous,' he replied ; ' I desired to touch your hand, I could not find a boat, I took to the water, and here I am. Are there any obstacles to him who wills ? ' Landing at Gibraltar, Kossuth took pas- sage in the English steamer Madrid for Southampton, and, after a most enthusi- astic reception in the principal English cities by the hard-working masses, they left for America. To the great republic of the west he had been invited by con- gress, and here he was received as the nation's guest by the president, by sena^ tors and representatives, by governors and legislators, by men in the highest station, and by the whole mass of the people. He arrived off Staten Island, December fifth, and was received by an official depu- tation who came on board to welcome him to the United States. Saturday, December rixth, was the dr.^ 416 KECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. fixed upon by the great metropolis of the nation, to celebrate his landing in Amer- ica ; a few days before, President Fillmore had announced to congress the arrival of their illustrious guest. The very skies of heaven, by their brightness and serenity, deemed to jxarticipate in the welcome accorded to the distinguished chief. At an early hour, the streets were filled with a vast concourse. The decorations of the streets, public buildings, private houses, and places of business, were on a large scale and in a style of imposing magnifi- cence. Myriads of eager spectators filled the space from the Park to Castle Garden, intent on gaining an early glimpse of the world-renowned guest of j)atriotic Ameri- can hosijitality. The steamer that had been provided to bring Kossuth up to the city, was decor- ated at the bows with a large Hungarian standard, and underneath, on the same flag-pole, was the flag of the sliip. At the stern, a large United States banner, bear- ing the stars and stripes, floated, and showed a beautiful contrast with the Hun- garian flag. On the arrival of the chief- tain at the steamer, he was recognized by his Hungarian hat, and large velvet em- broidered coat, and a spontaneous burst of applause rose from the anxious company who were looking out from the vessel. At this moment, the band struck up " Hail to the Chief," and the salute from the guns of the steamer began, which was the signal for another burst of enthusiastic applause. After much pushing and crowding, in which neither ladies nor Hungarians were much respected, the party got on board, and the steamer put off into the bay, the greeting of crowds on the shore being per- fectly tumultuous. On getting upon the boat, Kossuth remained for some time viewing the expansive bay, and listening to the descriptions of its various portions. At half-past twelve o'clock, the steamer came to, at Castle Garden, and the com- pany began to debark. An avenue was formed by the police and m^'litary, through which, Kossuth, his staff, and the other gentlemen passed to the large room, which they reached after much crushing and pushing. Among the throng of eager expectants in the Garden was a large rep- resentation of ladies. The actual arrival of Kossuth was the signal for an uncon- trollable uproar, and a fearful rush was made toward the door by which he was to enter. There was no such thing as keep- ing order ; cries of " There he is," " Hur- rah," deafening cheers and shouts, set law and order completely at defiance. When he was fairly recognized by the multitude, a shout was given that threatened to raise the vast roof from its place. Nearly a quarter of an hour of indescribable exulta- tion ensued, and all the beseeching ges- tures of the mayor and committee were unheeded. Finally, the mayor, who was surrounded by the common council and the officers of the military companies, presented an ad- dress to Kossuth, and then said : " 1 2>resent to you, my fellow-citizens, Kossuth, tha illustrious Chief of Hun- yary." Kossuth bowed his acknowledgments of the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, and then proceeded to reply in a speech of most masterly eloquence and power. As soon as the illustrious exile left the Garden and made his appearance in the Hattery, the acclamations of the tens of thousands present burst forth in almost a simultaneous cheer, dense and far-reaching though the crowd was. He was provided with a horse, and, surrounded by his com- panions in exile, rode round the ranks. Tlie different comjjanies, with their em- blazoned standards, shining armor, and splendid uniforms, went through their evolutions in superb style. Tlie scene at the moment Kossuth's carriage, in its place in the grand proces- sion, entered on Broadway, surpassed description. Every window of that wide and magnificent thoroughfare, as far as the eye could see, was alive with human beings, and, amidst the waving of hand- kerchiefs, by as beautiful an array of the fair sex as could be witnessed, who were most enthusiastic in their applause, the EECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGAEIAN EXILE. 117 honored guest passed onward. It was with tlie greatest difficulty that the line of the movement could be kept in order, in con- sequence of the rush of the human tide that endeavored to keep up with the car- riage containing Kossuth. Every avenue leading from Broadway, lent its quota of spectators, to swell up the teeming mass. Many who had witnessed similar exhibi- tions of popular enthusiasm from the time of Lafaj-ette's arrival in 1824, said that this ovation to Kossuth exceeded all. Kossuth returned the greetings he re- ceived with tliat grace and dignity always For some time, Kossuth gave himself up to receiving deputations and their congrat- ulatory addresses. These hailed from all parts of the land, and represented states, municipalities, corporations, ecclesiastical and political bodies, and innumerable soci- eties of various names, objects, and nation- alities. One of these deputations con- sisted of German citizens from Albany, and, after the usual exchange of formal addresses, Kossuth, taking each one kindly by the hand, bade him adieu, and spoke a few words of cheer. Approaching one of the bystanders who had accompanied ono OKAND MILrrAET EECEPTION OP GOVEKHOR KOSSUTH, IN NEW YOKK. SO characteristic of him. Yet, he seemed the least interested of any one in the pageant — the key to his sadness being found, doubtless, in that memorable senti- ment uttered b3'him in one of his speeches: " Freedom and Iwme ! what heavenly music in those two words ! Alas, I have no home, and the freedom of my people is down-trodden ! " Such, indeed, was the pen- sive strain in which Kossuth alwaj's spoke of himself and of his ill-fated father-land. 27 deputation, Kossuth took him by the hand and inquired if he too was an Al- banian. " No, I am a Jersey man," replied the interrogated, whose fair complexion, and presence with the German company, had evidently occasioned the mistake. " There are several of us here from the state of New Jersey," exclaimed an old farmer, "ive have come fiftij miles to see you.'' "Believe me, my friends," replied Ko3- 418 RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. suth, " I deeply appreciate your kindness. It is these little attentions that most touch my heart. Adieu." Incidents like this were constantly occurring. In Philadelphia, Kossuth was received in Independence Hall, where the immor- tal Declaration of American Independence had been proclaimed just three-quarters of a century ago. From Philadelphia he went to Baltimore, where he was escorted to his hotel by a vast concourse of people, and a long line of military. The city council had voted resolutions expressive of their sympathy with the exiles, and with their struggles for independence, and had sent to New York an address welcoming Kossuth and his companions. Kossuth now, therefore, in the hall of the Maryland Institute, expressed his thanks to the citi- zens of Baltimore. He reached Washington on the thirtieth of December, where a committee consisting of Senators Seward, Cass, and Shields, had been appointed to officially welcome him to the nation's capital. The secretary of state, Daniel Webster, was among the first to visit Kossuth, and to mark his respect for him. When asked, a few days later, what he thought of the Hungarian exile, he replied: "He has the manners of a kitiff — his is a rot/nl nature." The following day, after the president's levee, the rooms of Kossuth were crowded with visitors, citizens and dignitaries, who came, not only to see the man whose fame had filled two hemispheres, but to honor the noble cause he represented. On the sixth of January, Kossuth dined with the president of the United States, and other high officials, at the executive mansion. He was also invited to an audience given by the president to the Indian delegations from the far west. On the sevent'v the congress of the United States invitea him to the capitol, an honor which had never before been bestowed upon any individual, excepting Lafayette. The galleries and lobbies were crowded with ladies, and as he entered, the members of the house all rose, while the chairman of the committee intro- duced him in these words : " Mr. Speaker, I have the honor on the part of the committee, to present Governor Louis Kossuth to the house of represent- atives." To which the speaker replied : " As the organ of this body, I have the honor to extend to Louis Kossuth a cordial welcome to the house of represent- atives." Kossuth then said : " Sir, it is a remarkable fact in the his- tory of mankind, that while, through a'l the past, honors were bestowed upon glori, , and glory was attached only to success, the legislative authorities of this great repub- lic bestow honors upon a persecuted exile, not conspicuous by glory, not favored by success, but engaged in a just cause. There is a triumph of republican princi- ples in this fact. Sir, I thank in my own and my country's name, the house of rep- resentatives of the United States, for the honor of this cordial welcome." After he had taken the seat prepared for him, the house was adjourned, to allow those who had assembled to witness this introduction to be presented to Kos- suth. In the evening, a banquet was given him by the members of both houses of congress, presided over by Hon. W. R. King, vice-president of the United States. Kossuth was placed at his right hand, and Daniel Webster, secretary of state, at his left. The speaker of the house sat at Kossuth's side. This was indeed a great occasion for Kossuth, and nobly did he bear himself. Senators, judges, diplomats, military and naval dignitaries, and cabinet ministers, were there to do him honor. After the health of the president, and of the judiciary of the United States, had been given. Judge Wayne of the supreme court proposed : " Constitutional liberty to all the nations of the earth, sujiported by Christian faith and the morality of the Bible ; " a toast which was enthusiastically received. The presiding officer then gave : "Hungary: represented in the person of our honored guest ; having proved herself worthy to be free, by the virtues and valor RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 419 of her sons, the law of nations and the dictates of justice alike demand that sJie shall have fair play in her struggle for independence." Kossuth replied in a long and eloquent speech. The secretary of state, in his speech, gave an authorized assurance of President Fillmore's " kind- ness and good wishes toward the guest of the nation," and also expressed his own high appreciation of Kossuth, his country and his cause. Other speeches were made by the great orators of the nation there assembled, and nothing could exceed the magnificence of this occasion, in respect to the character and fame of those in attendance, the splendor of the intel- lectual efforts of the speakers, and the sumptuousness of the banquet in its ma- terial aspects. To the far west, the south, and again to the east, Kossuth extended his tour, plead- ing the cause of his down-trodden country, and receiving honors and distinctions, such as a king might covet, from one end of the broad land to the other. Cities gave him the freedom of their municipalities ; legis- latures and governors invited him to the capitals of their states; and the people everywhere rushed to welcome him. But in one thing, Kossuth was bitterly disap- pointed, namelj', in not securing the active interference of the United States in behalf of his country's rights. With all his vast powers of eloquence and logic, in demon- strating the law of nations in this regard, he invoked the strong arm of the Ameri- can republic to interpose for Hungarian nationality. But, though willing to pro- claim to the whole world, sympathy and accord with the Hungarian movement, the American government felt obliged to re- frain from any acts of positive interven- tion, as contrary to national usage and policy. After remaining in the United States about six months, during which he made nearly three hundred speeches, about one hundred of which were elaborate orations, Kossuth departed for England. A patri- otic fund which had been raised in Amer- ica for the cause he advocated, was intrusted to him for the service of his countrj' ; but, after watching for many years the political skies of Europe, and bringing to bear all the resources of his fertile mind upon the questions and events affecting the destiny of his country, he at last saw the once brightened horizon of his beloved father-land settle in the hopeless darkness of confirmed and accepted Aus- trian rule. In his appearance and manners, while a visitor to this countrj', Kossuth was de- scribed by those who enjoyed frequent opportunities of personal contact, as being five feet eight inches in height, with a rather slight frame, and a face expressive of a penetrating intellect — long, with a broad forehead, and the chin narrow, but square in its form. His hair thin in front, and of a dark brown, the same as his beard, which was quite long, but not very thick, and arranged with neatness and taste. He wore a moustache, heavy and somewhat long. His eyes, very large and of a light blue, well set beneath a full and arched brow ; complexion pale, occasioned, doubtless, by his long captivity and inces- sant application. His countenance was characterized by an aspect of almost mel- ancholy earnestness, of refinement, and of gentleness, mingled with manly fire, and an air of prompt, decisive action. In speaking, nothing could be more incomparably dignified and graceful than Kossuth's manner ; gestures more admira^ ble and effective, and a play of countenance more magnetic and winning, could not be conceived. He always stood quite erect, instead of frequently bending forward, as is the case with some orators, to give emphasis to a sentence. His posture and appearance in repose indicated greatness, by their essential grace and dignity, and impressed the beholder with a sense of marked individuality and power. This sense of reserved power in the man — the certainty that he was not making an effort and doing his utmost, but that behind all this strength of fascination, there were other treasures of ability not brought into notice, and perhaps never made use of — 420 RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGAEIAN EXILE. constituied one of the great charms of his oratory. He spoke as if with lii^tle prepa- ration, and with that peculiar freshness which belongs to extemporaneous speak- ing; every movement seemed perfectly easy, and he gesticulated a good deal, equally well with either arm. The uni- versal remark concerning bim in this respect was, that he was the greatest of living orators. LU. EXHIBITION" OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS, IN NEW YORK.— 1853. Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron — Four Acres of Surface Cot- ered with the Treasures of Art, Science, and Mechanism, from Every Land. — Inauguration of the Enterprise by President Pierce — Five Thousand Contributors. — Splendor of the Palace of Industry by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the Great London Fair. — Emulation Stimu- lated Abroad. — An American Exhibition Proposed. — Popularity of the Idea. — Plan for a Building Accepted. — Its Style, Size, and Decorations. — Admirable Adaptation of the Structure. — Superiority to the London Palace. — Rapid Progress of the Enterprise. — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. — Programme of Management. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present : Speeches Made. — Grand Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors. — Beauty, Utility, Amusement. — Attractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The Grand Industries of Civilization — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on America. " Worthy of the jjrahdeBt circumetencee which could be thrown around a human aseembly, worthy of this occaaiOD, and a hundred like thie, is that beauttful idea, the Coronation or Labor."— £Liitti Bui:eitt. IHTEEIOE OF THE WORLD'S FAIB, NEW VOEK. OLLOWTNG the brilliant and successful example of England, in the erection of a colossal crj's- tal palace in Hyde Park, London, for a World's Fair, in 1851,— and into which flowed the treas- ures of art, science, and mechan- ism, from the four quari-srs of the globe, — American enterprise con- ceived the idea of a similar struc- ture, for the exhibition of the industry of all nations, in the commercial metropolis of Amer- ica ; and this idea, so popular in view of the splendid eclat attend- ing the vast and magnificent display in London, was soon car- ried forward to a complete and happy consummation. The idea of such a grand na- tional di.splay became, in a short 422 WORLD'S FAIE IN NEW YORK. time, the all engrossing one, from one end of the land to the other, and the public men at the seat of government urged upon the United States rej)resentatives at for- eign courts, a sense of the importance of the great enterprise, and the desirableness of contributions from abroad. It was viewed as an undertaking which, if con- ducted with energy and sagacity, would add luster to the American nation, as showing its appreciation of the luxuries and refinements of art, as well as of the more substantial exhibitions of human industry, in the shape of manufactures, machinery, etc. In one respect, the American exhibition differed from its London predecessor, namely : the latter was under the free and unlimited auspices of the English govern- ment, with its boundless resources, while the former was undertaken by a company of individuals. It was not, however, an exclusively private speculation, but existed under a charter granted by the legislature, the company being known, in their corpo- rate style, as the " Association for the Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations," comprising men of eminence in all the influential spheres of society, and of this Association. Mr. Theodore Sedgwick re- ceived the high honor of being elected president. So vast and multitudinous, however, were the details of such an under- taking, that much delay attended the oper- ations of those charged with its active responsibilities. Gradually, after the en- countering of many formidable obstacles, the preliminary matter of a suitable build- ing was decided ; and then, with instinct- ive American speed, the speculation in Crystal Palace stock at once commenced, and was one of the most active " fancies," the gains of forty and fifty per cent., as was in some cases experienced, being quite stimulating. The stock rose, at one time, to seventy or eighty per cent, above par. One gentleman, who had watched the building closely as it advanced in the course of construction, observed one day something which he thought might injure the safety of the edifice. It was only a fancy of his ; but, being impressed with it, he walked quietly into Wall street, and, selling out, pocketed a gain of fifteen thou- sand dollars. The distribution of the stock into so many hands, and the widely extended commercial interests involved, gained for the enterprise much of a national character. The public support given by the government to its operations, at home and abroad, helj)ed also to dignify it, and to take away the invidious rejjuta- tion which would have attached to a proj- ect having no higher aim than mere private gain. Following uji this system of encouragement, the affair obtained the confidence iind co-operation of all classes, and its consummation was looked forward to as one of the marked events in Ameri- can history. On the attention of foreign governments being called to the exhibition, His Sub- lime Highness, the Sultan of Turkey, was one of the first to respond to the appeal, by ordering a steam-frigate to be prejjared for the recejition and transmission of those sjilendid fabrics of the Ottoman empire — richly carved cabinet constructions, and carpets of wonderful elaboration — so much admired the world over. The senate of the United States, at once appropriated twenty thousand dollars, for the purpose of receiv- ing, in a becoming manner of appreciation, the frigate thus so generously dispatched by his oriental majesty. England sent commissioners, and Queen Victoria, the Emperor Napoleon, and other sovereigns, vied with each other in their personal con- tributions and in those from their resjiect- ive countries. Great pains were taken to obtain such a plan for the building as would present the highest architectural merit, and be as per- fectl}' adapted as possible to the great object in view. At that time, the matter of iron construction on a large scale was almost entirely new in the United States, there being no edifice wholly of that material to be found in the country, and, therefore, the want of experience on the part of both architects and engineers, presented serious obstacles. Many ingenious plans, how- WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 423 ever, were offered, from the abridged account of wbicli, as well as of tlie build- ing itself, prepared by Mr. D. A. Wells, it appears that Sir Joseph Paxton, the architect of the LDndou structure, fur- nished one of singular beaut}-, but the peculiar shape of the ground to be occu- pied rendered it imp )ssible to use it. Mr. A. J. Downing offen d another, of striking originality, but this was also excluded by the peremptory conditions imposed by the city, namely, that the building should be exclusively of iron and glass. Another plan, by Mr. Eidlitz, contemplated a sus- pension roof, so as to obviate the difficult}- of spanning great widths by arches. Mr. Bogardus submitted a design for a circular building, consisting of successive colon- Cj:^^< nades, placed one over the other, somewhat resembling the coliseum at Rome, and involving a new and ingenious method of joining. A plan was also proposed, by Mr. J. W. Adams, consisting of a great octagonal vault or dome, supported by ribs made of fasces or clusters of gas-pipe. The presentation of so many plans, each of a different character, and some of them of great beauty and originality, made the task of selection ver}- difficult. Finally, after much consultation, the plan accepted was that of I\Iessrs. Carstensen and Gilde- meister, of New York, the latter gentle- man being recently from Copenhagen, ■where he was well-known as the designer of some of the principal public works in that city. After the final adoption of a plan, which was in August, 1852, no time was lost in putting the work under way. The piece of ground for the erection of the building, in Reservoir Square, granted by the city, was somewhat unfavorable for architectural purposes ; but in other re- spects it was quite favorable, and the structure, when completed, was a magnifi- cent spectacle, its main features being as follows : With the exception of the floor, the whole of this splendid palace was con- structed of iron and glass. The general idea of the edifice was a Greek cross, sur- mounted by a dome at the intersection, each diameter of the cross being three hundred and sixtj'-five feet and five inches long. There were three similar entrances, each forty-seven feet wide, and approached by flights of steps. Over each front was a large semi-circular fan-light, forty-one feet wide and twenty-one feet high, an- swering to the arch of the nave. Each arm of the cross was on the ground plan one hundred and fortj'-nine feet broad. This was divided into a central nave and two aisles, on each side, the nave forty-one, and each aisle fiftj--four feet wide. The central portion, or nave, was carried up to the height of sixtj'-seven feet, and the semi-circular arch which spanned it was forty-one feet broad. There were thus, in effect, two arched naves crossing each other at right angles, forty-one feet broad, sixtj^-seven feet high to the crown of the arch, and three hundred and sixty-five feet long ; and, on each side of these naves, an aisle fifty-four feet broad and forty-five feet high. The exterior of the ridgeway of the nave was seventy-one feet. Each aisle was covered by a gallery of its own width, and twenty-four feet from the floor. The central dome was one hundred feet in diameter, sixty-eight feet in=--de from the floor to the spring of the ar„h, one hun- dred and eighteen feet to the crown, and, on the outside, with the lantern, one hun- dred and forty-nine feet. The exterior angles of the building were ingeniously tilled up with a triangular lean-to, twenty- 424 WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. four feet high, which gave the ground plan an octagonal shape, each side or face being one hundred and forty-nine feet wide. At each angle was an octagonal tower, eight feet in diameter and seventy-five feet high. Ten large, and eight winding staircases, connected the principal floor with the gal- lery, which opened on the three balconies situated over the entrance halls, affording ample space for flower decorations, statues, vases, etc. The building contained, on the ground floor, one hundred and eleven thousand square feet of space, and in its galleries, of fifty-four feet width, sixty-two thousand square feet more, making a total area of one hundred and seventy-three thousand square feet, for the purposes of exhibition ; being a total, within an incon- siderable fraction, of four acres. There were on the ground floor of this wonderful structure, one hundred and ninety octagonal cast-iron columns, twenty- one feet above the floor, and eight inches diameter, cast hollow, of different thick- nesses, from half an inch to one inch. These columns received the cast-iron gird- ers, the latter being twenty-six feet long and three feet high, and served to sustain the galleries and the wrought-iron con- struction of the roof, as well as to brace the whole structure in every direction. The girders, as well as the second-story columns, were fastened to the columns in the first story, by connecting pieces of the same octagonal shape as the columns, three feet four inches high. The number of lower floor girders was two hundred and fifty-two, besides twelve wrought - iron girders of the same height, and forty-one feet span over a part of the nave. The second story contained one hundred and forty-eight columns, of the same shape as those below, and seventeen feet seven inches high. These received another tier of girders, numbering one hundred and sixty, for the support of the roofs of the aisles. The dome, noble and beautiful in its proportions, constituted the chief architect- ural feature of the building. Its diame- ter, one hundred feet, and its height — nearly seventy feet to the springing line, and one hundred and twenty-three to the crown of the arch — made it the largest, and, with one or two exceptions, the only scientifically constructed dome in the United States ; a dome of oriental charac- teristics, in its light and graceful beauty, — seemingly borne in upon a zephyr, and capable of being lifted away by a breath, — floating over the whole structure, pure and fascinating, like an aerial grace. Twenty -four columns supported the dome, the columns rising to the second story, and to a height of sixty-two feet above the principal floor. The sj'stem of wrought-iron trusses which connected them together, and was supported by them, formed two eccentric polygons, each of sixteen sides; these received a cast-iron bed-plate, to which the cast-iron shoes for the ribs of the dome were bolted, the latter being constructed of two curves of double angle-iron, securely connected together by trellis-work, the requisite steadiness being secured by tie-rods, which braced them both vertically and horizontally. At the top, the ribs were bolted to a horizontal ring of wrought and cast iron, having a diameter of twenty feet in clear, and sur- mounted by the lantern. As in the other roofs of the building, the dome was cased with matched deal and tin sheathing, light being communicated to the interior through the lantern, and also in part from the sides, pierced for thirty-two orna- mental windows, these being glazed with stained glass one-eighth of an inch thick, and representing the arms of the Union and of its several States, — a feature which formed no inconsiderable part of the inte- rior decoration, and won the admiration of every beholder, foreign as well as Ameri- can. The enamel, with which the whole of the glass used in the structure was covered, was laid upon the glass with a brush, and, after drying, subjected to the intense heat of a kiln, by which the coating became vit- rified, and as durable as the glass itself ; the effect produced being similar to that WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 425 of ground glass, translucent but not trans- | parent, the sun's rays, diffused by passing through it, yielding an agreeable light, — deprived of that intensity of heat and glare which is so peculiar to them in this climate. In the absence of a similar pre- caution in the London crystal palace, whose roofs, as well as walls, were inclosed with transparent glass, it was found nec- essary to cover the interior of the building with canvas, to produce the required shade. The external walls of the New York building were of cast-iron framing and panel-work, into which were inserted the sashes of the windows and the louvers for ventilation. But the i-apid and unexpected increase of applications for space by exhibitors, led to the erection of a large addition to the structure thus described. It consisted of two parts, of one and two stories re- spectivelj', and occupied the entire ground between the main building and the reservoir ; its length, four hundred and fifty-one feet, and its extreme width seventy-five feet. It was designed for the reception of machinerj' in motion, the cabinets of mining and mineralogj', and the refreshment rooms, with their necessary offices. The second storj', nearly four hundred and fiftj' feet long and twenty-one wide, and extending the whole length, was entirely devoted to the exhibition of pictures and statuary. In the work of decorating the build- ing, the leading idea was to bring out to advantage the beautiful architectural character of the edifice itself — to decor- ate construction, rather than to con- struct decoration. The result proved surprisingly attractive. The colors em- plo3'ed on the exterior were mixed in oil, the base being white lead. The outside presented the appearance of a building of a light-colored bronze, of which all features purely ornamental were of gold. The inside had a prevail- ing tone of buff, or rich cream color, which was given to all the cast-iron constructive work. This color was re- lieved by a moderate and judicious use of the three positive colors, red, blue, and yellow, in their several tints of ver- milion, garnet, sky-blue, and orange — certain parts of the ornamental work being gilt — to accord with the arrange- ment of colors employed in the decora^ tion of the ceilings. The only exceptions to the use of oil colors were the ceiling of the lean-to and the dome, these being exe- cuted on canvas. The effect of the interior of the dome was particularly splendid. The rays from 426 WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. a golden sun, at the center, descended between the latticed ribs, and arabesques of white and blue, relieved by stars, sur- rounded the openings, the effect of ths whole being very fine. This splendid appearance by day was even excelled by the gorgeous illumination of the structure at night, produced by countless gas-burners. In the construction of this vast and splendid palace of industrj', the whole quantity of iron emploj'ed amounted to one thousand eight hundred tons, of which three hundred tons were -wrought and fifteen liundred tons cast iron ; the quan- tity of glass used, fifteen thousand panes, or fifty-five thousand square feet ; and the quantity of wood amounted to seven hun- dred and fifty thousand feet, board meas- ure. The general mode of erection by base pieces, columns, connecting jiiecos and girders, was the same with that of the great London palace ; but the construction of the arched nave, and of the dome, was of course entirely peculiar, and the general effect of the structure completely different. The London building was regarded as defi- cient in architectural effect. The form of the New York edifice furnished scope for a pleasing variety of embellishments, by which all monotony was avoided. Exclusive of the naves, the total amount of space on the floor, occupied by different countries for exhibition, was about one hundred and fiftj'-two thousand square feet, of which a little more than ninety-four thousand was on the ground floor. The total amount of space occupied by foreign exhibitors was nearly one hundred thou- sand square feet ; and the total number of this class of exhibitors was nearly three thousand. In the United States depart- ment, the number of exhibitors was not far from two thousand, the largest propor- tion of whom were included under the fol- lowing classes: mineralogy, metallurgy, and mining; machinery and tools; agri- cultural implements ; hardware ; and the fine ans The details of the exhibition, with the collecting and arranging of the various departments, was intrusted to the follow- ing gentlemen: General superintendents. Captains Dupont and Davis ; arrangement of sjiace and classification, Samuel "Web- ber ; department of mineralogy and chem- istry, Professor B. Silliman, Jr. ; director of machinery, J. E. Holmes ; director of agricvdtural imj:)lements, B. P. Johnson ; director of sculpture, Felix Piatti ; director of textile fabrics, Edward Vincent ; — these having the co-operation of a large corps of assistants, experienced in the various spe- cialties named. It was the intention of the officers of the association, that the building should be finished and the exhibition opened to the public by the first day of May, 1853. But many unlooked-for delays intervened, and the opening was necessarily deferred until the fourteenth of Jul}', on which day the palace was formally inaugurated with approjjriate services. On a platform were assembled the officers of the association, and many of the distinguished men of Europe and America, including His Excel- lency, Hon. Franklin Pierce, president of the United States, and members of his cab- inet. The devotional exercises, on open- ing the exhibition, were led by Bishop Wainwright ; and then a choral, written for the occasion, and commencing with the line, " Here, where all climes their offer- ings send," was sung to the tune of Old Hundred. Mr. Sedgwick, the president of the association, then pronounced an address, stating the objects and prospects of the exhibition, and was followed by the president of the United States, in a brief and appropriate congratulatory speech, in which he bespoke for the great national enterprise the cordial patronage of all classes and sections, and characterized it as an event fitly reflecting the progress, power, and glory of the republic. After this, the organ poured through tlie aisles the sublime music of Handel's " Hallelu- jah Chorus,"— and the palace of glass, with its myriad forms of wonder and beauty, and its mighty lesson of civilization, was a compIpte\ a gentleman who was saved from the wreck, exhibits human nature in one of its strange phases, in view of so terrible a crisis : — Among our passengers was a gen- tleman about thirty-five to thirty-eight j-ears of age, of very reserved manners, and evidently depressed spirits. Being located in the same berth, I was one day accidentally struck by the significant fact that his linen was marked with initials differing from those of the name by which he passed and in which he had shipped. A few remarks from me induced him 436 LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. (under promise of secrecy, which the ex- tent of this communication does not vio- late), to explain how circumstances of a distressing nature had induced his expa- triation. Subsequent conversations re- vealed to me that blighted hopes con- strained him to regard his existence but lightly, and, from his stolid indifference when the encounter took place, it is my belief that he courted those embraces of death which, alas! so many have vainly struggled to resist. Every account confirms the statement that the ladies exhibited the most admira- ble coolness, and stared death in the face with a heroism which should have put to blush the men who deserted and left them to their fate. At the moment when one of the unfortunate boats was disappearing from mortal view, a French lady, remarked for her dark complexion, was seen to be courageously using her oar. Not a single female, however, of whom there were some sixty on board, escaped the awful doom, though every possible effort was made by Captain Luce to have the women, chil- dren, and passengers first cared for. Thus, when one of the men attempted to leave, the captain caught him, and tore the shirt off the man's back to prevent him from going, exclaiming, " Let the passeiitjers go in the boat." He also seized a kind of axe, and attempted to prevent the firemen reaching the boat; but it was 'everyone for himself,' and, finally, no more attention was paid to the captain than to any other man on board. The Arctic was built in New York, and was considered as staunch and splendid a vessel as was ever constructed ; her meas- urement was three thousand five hundred tons, and the whole cost nearly a million dollars. Of the more than four hundred souls who left Liverpool in this ill-fated ship, full of hope, gayety, and health, only about one-tenth escaped a watery grave. Many of these, including a large number of professional and business men of emi- nence, were returning from an European tour of pleasure. The accident happened within forty miles east of Cape Race, the eastern extremity of Newfoundland, in the neighborhood of the Virgin Rocks. After striking the Arctic, the Vesta appeared to be sinking, but immediately rose again ; but no hope was entertained of her ultimate safetj', the passengers and crew looking upon the Arctic as their only chance of saving their lives. One man was killed, and others severely wounded. Two boats were put over the side, the first of which was sunk ; the second was imme- diately boarded by some of the crew and passengers, who, heedless of the captain's order to return, abandoned the vessel. The fog continuing very thick, they lost sight of the Arctic altogether, still hoping, however, that she would not desert them. Lightening the vessel in the fore part, her bows were thereby considerably raised, thus greatly stopping the rush of water; and, by other means and contrivances, they were enabled to run, under small steam, for the nearest port, St. John's, where she arrived September 30th. For many days, as already remarked, the terrible fate of the Arctic, and the marv melancholy incidents connected with ii., made a profoundly painful sensation in business circles — everywhere, indeed. The sympathies of the community were espe- cially with Mr. Collins, whose misfortune was a double and overwhelming one — the loss of his beloved family and his noble ship at the same time. The Collins line of steamers did more to give character and prestige to the mercantile marine of Amer- ica than can readily be estimated ; and the loss of the Arctic, therefore, was every- where regarded as a national calamity. LIV. ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON. PRESTON S. BROOKS.— 1856. Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Bare Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed, and Bleeding — Sumner's Great Kansas Speech for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech b.v Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sumner's Scorch- ing Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined On. — Mr. Brooks their Champion. — Two Days' Watch for His Victim. — Finds Him Alone at His Desk. — Approaches Unobserved. — A Quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner Instantly Stunned. — His Ineffectual Defense. — Brooks's Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over Sumner. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken by Congress. — Reign of Terror at the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery, Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions. " In the name of the Conatitution, which has been outraeeij — of the Laws trampled down— of Justice baniehed— of Humanitv degraded— •t Peace destroyed— of Freedom crushed to the earth: and in the name of the Heaveuly Father, whose service is perfect Freedom, 1 moke kbkUft appeal."— SGrtATuB ScMKEB'a Speecu, *'TuB Cbiue Aoainst Kansas." USEBTY FOB KANSAS. |\^ ISTOEY records but one instance of a great |R| and honored statesman — one of the foremost men of the age, in fact, in his advocacy of human rights — being struck down by the instruments of bloody violence, while in bis seat in the senate chamber of his country's capitol, and there lying prostrate, bleeding, and insensible, until removed by friendly hands. This barbarous deed transpired at Washing- ton, on the twenty-second of May, 1856 ; and it would be difficult to name any other event, up to this period, which so shook the country to its center — culminating, too, in the brief space of but five succeeding j-ears, in that ter- rible shock of arms, which changed the desti- nies of the republic, and gave new life and the national guaranty to human rights. On the nineteenth of May, the Hon. Charles Sumner, United States senator from Massa- chusetts, began a speech in the senate, in favor of admitting Kansas into the Union, under a state constitution which she had adopted, pro- hibiting slavery. The question had for a long 438 ASSAULT OX SUMNER, BY BROOKS. time produced the most intense political excitement all over the land, the south, as the advocate of slave territory, and the north, as the defender of free soil and free labor, being bitterly ai'raj'ed against each other. Mr. Sumner treated the subject with his accustomed power of argument and rhetoric, and at great length, his speech occupying two days. A portion of it was directed with remarkable vigor and sarcasm, though entirely within parlia- mentary bounds, to the arguments of tho Hon. A. P. Butler, senator from South Carolina, delivered some da^'s previously, — this part of Mr. Sumner's speech giving great offense to the members of congress from that state. On the twenty-second, the senate ad- journed at an early hour, in consequence of the announcement of the death of Hon. Mr. Miller of Missouri. After the ad- journment, as is the custom of some sena- tors, Mr. Sumner remained at his desk, and was there writing unsuspectingly and busily, when he was approached by Pres- ton S. Brooks and L. M. Keitt, congress- men from South Carolina, each with a cane. Brooks was a nephew of Senator Butler. Several persons had been about Mr. Sumner's desk after the adjournment, but just now he was alone. Senator Wil- son had left him only a few moments before, on his way out passing Brooks, who was sitting in a back seat. Brooks walked up in front of Mr. Sumner's seat, and, saluting him, made the following remarks : " Mr. Sumner, I have read your speech carefully, and with as much calmness as I could be expected to read such a speech. You have libeled my state, and slandered my relative, who is aged and absent, and I feel it to be my duty to punish you for it." Without waiting for any reply, or asking for any explanation. Brooks instantly struck Mr. Sumner a violent blow upon the top of his bare head, while the latter was still in a sitting posture, with a heavy gutta percha cane. Brooks followed this blow immediately with other blows, from twelve to twenty in all, dealing them with all the force which his herculean size and great strength made him master of. Mr. Sumner had no distinct conscious- ness after the first blow. He involunta- rily strove to rise from his seat, but being confined by his writing position, he wrenched his desk from its iron fasten- ings, in attempting to extricate himself. Stunned and blinded, however, from the first, his efforts at self-defense were inef- fectual, and, staggering under the fast- repeated blows, he fell senseless to the floor, gashed, bleeding, and powerless. Tho cane used was a deadlj' weapon, being as hard as hickory or whalebone ; it was one inch in diameter at the larger end, and tapered to tho diameter of about five- eighths of an inch at the smaller end, and so violently did Brooks deal his blows upon the defenseless senator's head, that the deadly weapon was shattered into many pieces by the time the assault ter- minated. Mr. Morgan and Mr. IMurray, of the New York delegation, were in the front ante-chamber, and, hearing the noise, went in. Mr. Murray seized hold of Brooks, and Mr. Morgan went to the relief of Mr. Sumner, whom he found prostrate and nearly insensible. The persons pres- ent in the senate were Mr. Sutton, one ol tho reporters, the assistant sergeant-at- arms, Mr. Simonton, Senators Crittenden, Iverson, Bright, Toombs, Pearce, and a few others. No one of the senators seemed to offer to interfere but the venerable Mr. Crittenden, who pronounced it an inexcus- able outrage. Mr. Wilson rushed into the senate-chamber on hearing of the attack, but found Mr. Sumner had been removed to the vice-president's room, and that a surgeon was in attendance. He then helped to put his colleague into a carriage, and went with him to his lodgings. The senator's condition was deplorable. There were frightful cuts on his head, and his clothes were literally covered with blood. Upon the papers and documents covering his desk, as well as upon the adjoining desks, blood was also freely spattered. ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BEOOKS. 4o9 But for the interference of Messrs. Murray and Morgan, Mr. Sumuer woHld have cer- tainly been killed, under the remorseless and unceasing blows of his assailant ; the former seized Brooks around the waist, wliilj he was striking Sumner, and, with Morgan's help, pulled him away. The advantage which Brooks had over his victim was complete ; stunning him with the very first attack, he afterwards seized him by the shoulder, held him with the left hand, while, with the other, he kept laying deadly blows upon his head. It appears that as early as Tuesday, before Mr. Sumner's speech was concluded. Brooks took exception to the senator's remarks ; and that on Wednesday morn- ing, after the delivery of the speech, he declared to Mr. Edmundson, a member of congress from Virginia, by whom he was met in the capitol grounds a short time before the meeting of the two houses, that he had determined to punish Mr. Sumner, J unless he made an ample apology for the 'language he had uttered in his speech; Brooks expressed a desire that he, Ed- mundson, should be present and witness the scene, and they thereupon took a seat near the walk leading from Pennsylvania avenue to the capitol, where they remained some fifteen minutes, awaiting the ap- proach of Mr. Sumner, but, as he did not make his appearance, the two proceeded to the capitol. On Thursday morning. Brooks and Ed- mundson were again together at the western entrance of the capitol grounds on Pennsylvania avenue, a point which commands a view of all the approaches to the capitol from that portion of the city in which Mr. Sumner resided. Here, Brooks talked with Edmundson about liis being on the lookout for Mr. Sumner, and his determination to resent the language of the speech. They failed to see Mr. Sumner, and went to the capitol together. In addition to Edmundson, ]\Ir. Keitt had also been informed of Brooks's purpose to make the assault — indeed, was one of the chief planners of the whole thing. Keitt was near by, when Brooks commenced the attack, and Edmundson took a position in an ante-room adjoining ; and, as soon as an attempt was made by the bystanders to protect Mr. Sumner, Keitt rushed up with a cane in a threatening manner, Edmundson also entering the chamber soon after Mr. Sumner fell. It thus ap- peared that the murderous assault was premeditated during a period of at least two days, and that the only provocation consisted in Mr. Sumner's response to Mr. Butler's coarse aspersions uttered some days before, — Mr. Sumner's words being lawfully' spoken in debate in the senate chamber, not once being ruled out of order by the presiding officer, nor ob- jected to by any senator as in any way violative of the parliamentary rules estab- lished for the government and order of that body. On the ensuing day, the outrage was brought to the attention of the senate, by Mr. Wilson, who said : " The seat of my colleague is vacant to-da\'. For the first time after five years of jsublic service, that seat is vacant. Yesterday, after the touching tribute of respect to the memory of Mr. Miller, of Missouri, a deceased member of the house of representatives, the senate adjourned. My colleague re- mained in his seat, engaged in public duties. While thus engaged, with pen in hand, and in a position which rendered him utterly incapable of protection, or 440 ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. defending himself, Mr. Preston S. Brooks, a member of the house from Soutli Caro- lina, approached him unobserved, and ab- ruptly addressed him. Looking up, and before he had time to utter a single word in reply to him, he received a stunning blow on the head from the cane in the hands of Mr. Brooks, which made him almost senseless and unconscious ; endeav- oring, however, to protect himself, in rising from his chair, his desk was over- thrown ; and while in that powerless con- dition, he was beaten upon the head and shoulders by repeated blows from Mr. Brooks, until he sank upon the floor of the senate, unconscious, exhausted, and covered with his own blood. He was raised from the floor by a few friends, taken into an ante-room, and his wounds dressed. From thence he was carried to his house, and placed upon his bed. He is thus unabie to be with us to day, to perform the duties which belong to him as a member of this body. To hold a member of the senate responsible out of this chamber for words spoken in debate is a grave offense, not only against the rights of a member, but against the constitutional privileges of this body; but, sir, to come into this chamber, and assault a member in his seat, until he falls exhausted upon this floor, is an offense requiring the prompt action of this body. Sir, I submit no motion, — I leave it to older senators, whose character and position in the senate, and before the country, eminently fit them to take the lead in a measure to redress the wrongs of members of this body, and vindicate the honor and dignity of the senate." A com- mittee of investigation was appointed. In the house of representatives, also, the outrage was the subject of legislative action, after an exciting debate, in which Mr. Burlingame of Massachusetts, thus gave expression, in the course of a manly and truthful speech, to the sentiments of every noble-minded citizen in the land: "On the 22d day of May, when the senate and the house had clothed themselves in mourning for a brother fallen in the battle of life in the distant state of Missouri, the senator from Massachusetts sat, in the silence of the senate chamber, engaged in employments appertaining to J^is office, when a member from this house, who had taken an oath to sustain the constitution, stole into the senate — that place which had hitherto been held sacred against violence — and smote him as Cain smote his brother. .... One blow was enough ; but it did not satiate the wrath of that spirit which had pursued him through two days. Again, and again, and again, quicker and faster, fell the leaden blowa, until he was torn away from his victim, when the senator from Massachusetts fell into the arms of his friends, and his blood ran down the senate floor. Sir, the .act was. brief, and my comments on it shall be brief also. I denounce it in the name of the sovereignty of Massachusetts, which was stricken down by the blow ; I de- nounce it in the name of humanity; I denounce it in the name of civilization, which it outraged ! I denounce it in the name of that fair play which bullies and prize-fighters respect. What ! strike a man when he is pinioned — when he cannot respond to a blow! Call j-ou that chiv- alry ? In what code of honor did you get your authority for that ! " Similar legis- lative action to that of the senate was adopted, on motion of Mr. Campbell, for inquiring into the circumstances of so brutal, murderous, and cowardly an as- sault. Being waited on, some days after the assault, by the committee of investigation, Mr. Sumner, who was confined in great suffering to his bed, gave the following testimony : " I attended the senate as usual, on Thursday, the 22d of May. After some formal business, a message was received from the house of representatives, announcing the death of a member of that body from Missouri. This was followtd by a brief tribute to the deceased from Mr. Geyer, of Missouri, when, according to usage and out of respect to the deceased, the senate adjourned at once. Instead of leaving the senate-chamber with the res* of the senators, on the adjournment, I con- ASSAULT ON SUJINER, BY BROOKS. 441 tinued in my seat, occupied with my pen, and wbile thus intent, in order to be in season for the mail, which was soon to close, I was approached by several persons, who desired to converse with me, but I answered them promptly and briefly, ex- cusing myself for the reason that I was engaged. When the last of these persons left me, I drew my arm-chair close to my desk, and, with my legs under the desk, continued writing. My attention at this time was so entirely drawn from other subjects that, though there must have been many persons in the senate, I saw nobody. While thus intent, with my head bent over my writing, I was ad- dressed by a person who approached the front of my desk : I was so entirely absorbed, that I was not aware of his presence until I heard my name pro nounced. As I looked up, with pen in hand, I saw a tall man, whose countenance was not familiar, standing directly over me, and at the same moment caught these words: 'I have read your speech twice over, carefully ; it is a libel oa South Car- olina, and Mr. Butler, who is a relative of mine.' Wliile these words were still pass- ing from his lips, he commenced a succes- sion of blows with a heavy cane on my bare head, by the first of which I was stunned so as to lose my sight. I saw no longer my assailant, nor any other person or object in the room. What I did after- wards was done almost unconsciously, acting under the instincts of self-defense. With head already bent down, I rose from my seat — wrenching up my desk, which was screwed to the floor — and then press- ing forward, while my assailant continued his blows. I had no other consciousness until I found myself ten feet forward in front of my desk, lying on the floor of the senate, with my bleeding head supported on the knee of a gentleman whom I soon recognized, by voice and manner, as Mr. Morgan, of New York. Other persons there were about me, offering me friendly assistance, but I did not recognize any of them. Others there were at a distance, looking on and offering no assistance, of whom I recognized only Mr. Douglas, of Illinois, Mr. Toombs, of Georgia, and I thought also my assailant standing be- tween them. I was helped from the floor, and conducted into the lobby of the senate, where I was placed upon a sofa. Of those who helped me here I have no recollection. • As I entered the lobbv, I recognized Mr. Slidell, of Louisian.a, who retreated, but I recognized no one else until I felt a friendly grasp of the hand, which seemed to come from Mr. Campbell, of Ohio. I have a vague impression that Mr. Bright, president of the senate, spoke to me while I was on the floor of the lobby. I make this statement in answer to the interroga- tory of the committee, and offer it as pre- senting completely all my recollections of the assault and of the attending circum- stances, whether immediately before or immediately after. I desire to add, that besides the words which I have given as uttered by my assailant, I have an indis- tinct recollection of the words 'old man;' but these are so enveloped in the mist that ensued from the first blow, that I am not sure whether they were uttered or not." On the cross-examination, Mr. Sumner stated that he was entirely without arms of any kind, and that he had no notice or warning of any kind, direct or indirect, of any such assault. In answer, also, to a cross-question, Mr. Sumner replied that what he had said of Senator Butler, of 442 ASSAULT ON SUMNEE, BY P.EOOKS. South Carolina, was strictly responsive to Mr. Butler's speeches, and according to the usages of parliamentary debate. The dastardly blow which stunned Sen- ator Sumner, also stunned, for the moment, the great north and west, from Maine to Nebraska — but only to arouse them, as they had never been aroused before, to a realization of the true character of the conflict which was being waged from one end of the land to the other, and to make them more determined than ever, in be- half of free soil, free labor, and free speech. Indignation meetings, composed of the solid worth and intelligence of the population throughout the free states, were immediately held, to jirotest against so cowardly and murderous an attempt to sup- press the freedom of debate. In every city and town, the masses poured forth, to dem- onstrate their reprobation of so brutal and atrocious a wrong, and to express sympa- thy for Senator Sumner, in view of the anguish and peril of his condition. In Massachusetts, in especial, the outrage upon their great and honored senator pro- duced such an outburst of universal indig- nation as was never known before. And in addition to this, the riches of the wealthy were freely proffered him, to defray the expenses incident to his disability; and, in Boston, a memorial token in appro- bation of the great speech for which he was stricken down, was only prevented from being consummated, b3' the senator's earnest request. This memorial was to have been a massive and elaborate silver vase,two feet in height, and of grand proportions. According to the design, there was to be, upon the summit of the vase, a figure rep- resenting Mr. Sumner holding his Kansas speech in his right hand ; on either side were the figures of Justice and Freedom, crowning him with a wreath of laurel ; a winged genius sat at his feet, inscribing his name on a tablet. Figures represent- ing Victory were upon the arms of the vase, heralding the triumph of Freedom. Above the inscription to Mr. Sumner, and in the center, was the coat of arms of Massachusetts. On the foot of the vase was the coat-of-arms of the nation, between masks and appropriate emblems of Liberty and Slaverj'. By Mr. Sumner's special desire, the large amount contributed for this purpose was devoted to the interests of freedom in Kansas. But no less was the brutal conduct of Brooks applauded throughout the south, than was the character of Mr. Sumner eulogized, and his condition comj)assion- ated, at the north. Almost without excep- tion, the newspapers in the interests of slavery exulted over the outrage, and urged similar treatment of Wade, Seward, Wilson, Giddings, Hale, and others. Let- ters of admiration for his exploit poured in upon Brooks, day after day, and he was soon in possession of a dozen choice and costly canes, the gifts of friends in South Carolina and elsewhere, in place of the gutta percha weapon which was broken to pieces iu the blows dealt upon the head of Senator Sumner. These presentation canes were all elegantly mounted with silver or gold, and bore commemorative inscriptions ; they were also very solid and and heavy, one blow from either of them, in the hands of so powerful an assailant as Brooks, would finish a man of ordinary thickness of skull. The one which he most prized, was of massive live oak, silver- looped, and inscribed with a grateful trib- ute from the northern shipmasters doing business in Charleston, S. C. In due time, the committee of investiga- tion appointed b^' the senate made a report, but the onlj" action taken by that body was to transmit a message to the house, complaining that Mr. Brooks, one of its members, had made a violent assault upon Senator Sumner, but that, as Mr. Brooks was a member of the house of representa- tives, the latter alone had the power to arrest, try, and punish him. In the debate in the senate, on the committee's report, there was much excitement. Notwith- standing it was known to all, that Mr. Sumner was confined to his bed, in intense suffering. Senator Butler, of South Caro- lina, said, among other things, that, " had he been in Washington, he should have ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 443 assumed all the responsibility taken by bis gallant relative. Mr. Brooks assaulted Mr. Sumner with no other purpose than to disgrace him. Mr. Brooks was one of the best tempered fellows, though impetu- ous, no doubt, and quick at resentment. Mr. Sumner received two flesh wounds, and, being rather handsome, did not just now expose himself. If he had been in the army, and had not gone out the next day after the fracas, he would have de- served to be cashiered. On some accounts it was fortunate he (Butler) was not here ous, Mr. Butler exclaimed from bis seat, " You are a liar." Brooks immediately challenged Mr. Wil- son to mortal combat, for having thus characterized the assault, which challenge Mr. Wilson declined to accept, on the ground that "dueling is a relic of bar- barous civilization, which the law of the country has branded as crime," and preferring to throw himself on " the right of self-defense, in its broadest sense." Mr. Burlingame was also chal- lenged by Brooks, and the latter imme- ASSAULT OX SENATOR SHMNEK, BY P. S. BROOKS. at the time, for he did not know what he might have done. To be sure, it was thirty or forty j'ears since he had been engaged in a personal conflict, and his hand was out of practice, but he did not know but he might have had a trial at him. One thing he had no doubt of, namely, if he (Butler) were a young man, lie would have left Jdrn (Sumner) in a worse condition than he is noic." In re- sponse to Senator Wilson's denunciation of the act as brutal, cowardly, and murder- diately agreed to meet him, but other parties interposing, hostile proceedings were stopped. Both northern and south- ern senators went armed constantly, and there was a "reign of terror" in the capital of the nation. Being complained of, in one of the criminal courts of the city for assault and battery, in his attack on Mr. Sumner, Brooks appeared before the judge, made an elaborate speech in vindication of his course, waived a trial, asked for judgment, and, on the judge 444 ASSAULT ON SUMNEK, BY BROOKS. imposing a fine of throe hundred dollars, paid it on the spot. The committee of investigation ap- pointed by tlie house of representatives reported resolutions of expulsion against Brooks, and censure against Keitt and Edmundson. The resolution to expel Brooks received, after a violent debate, one hundred and twenty-one votes, and there were ninety-five votes in tlie negative ; a two-thirds vote being required to expel a member, the resolution failed. The reso- lution of censure passed. Mr. Hoffman, of Maryland, was the only southern mem- ber wlio voted to expel Brooks. Brooks, however, stung by the rebuke conveyed by the vote of a majority of the house, made a speech of coarse defiance, in which he said, " If I desired to kill the senator from ^Massachusetts, why did I not do it ? You all admit that I had it in my power. Let me tell you, that, expressly to prevent taking life, I used an ordinar}' cane presented by a friend in Baltimore. I went to the senate deliberately. I hesi- tated whether I should use a horsewhip or a cowhide, but knowing that the strength of the senator from Massachusetts was superior to mine, I thought he might wrest it from me. If he had, I might have done what I should have regretted for the re- mainder of my life. (A voice : He woiihl have killed him!) Ten days ago, foresee- ing what the action of the house would be, my resignation was put into the hands of the governor of South Carolina. And now, Mr. Spe.aker. I announce to you and to the house. I am no longer a member of the thirty-fourth congress." Senators Butler and Mason s.it near Brooks during the delivery of his speech — of the tone of which the preceding brief sentences afford some idea, — and were quite merry over it. Mr. Brooks retired amid the applause of the south gallery, which was filled with ladies and gentlemen, and, upon reaching the lobby, was embraced and showered with kisses by the ladies. Returning home to South Carolina, Brooks was feted and feasted, and made the recipient of every possible mark of honor and admiring gr.atitude. An elec- tion was soon held to fill the vacancy caused by his resignation, and he was elected by a unanimous vote. Ouce more, PKESTON- 9. BROOKS. namely, on the eighth of January-, 1857, he made a characteristic speech on the floor of congress, against the prohibition of slavery in Nebraska. But his career was suddenlj' terminated, on the twenty- seventh of the same month. His sickness was brief — inflammation of the throat — and he expired in terrible pain. In the intensity of his sufferings from strangula- tion, he endeavored to tear open his throat, that he might get breath. He was but thirty-eight years old, and left a wife and four children. His frame was pronounced, by the undertaker, the largest for which he had ever been called upon to furnish a coffin. Only four months alter the decease of Brooks, Senator Butler died at Edgefield court-house, S. C, in the sixtj'-first year of his age. Keitt met his death during the war of the rebellion, he being at the time an officer in the confederate army. From the very first, Mr. Sumner's con- dition was critical in the extreme, so much so, that his physicians considered the chances to be against his recovery, and visitors were peremptorily forbidden to see him. His head and the glands of the neck became swollen, the cuts soon ulcer- ated, and there was a constant torturing pain in the head. An appearance of ery- sipelas presented itself, a form of inflam- mation greatly to be dreaded. As soon as he could be removed with safety, he was ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 44.! carried into the coun'ry, remaining for Bome time uuder the hospitable roof of Hon. F. P. Blair, at Silver Spring. In the gpring of 1857, he went to Europe by the advice of hia physi<;ian.s, and there passed gome months, returning in the iiitumn, with a view to engaging in his public duties. Undervaluing, however, the seriousness of his condition, Mr. Sumner's anticipa- tions of active usefulness were not to be so speedily realized. At the time of the assault upon him, he failed to comprehend the full extent and peculiar nature of the injury received, and continued to cherish, from the outset, the constant hope of an early restoration to sound health. But the spring of 1858 found him still in such impaired health, as to necessitate another visit to Eurof^e, principally with a view to the curative influences of travel, exercise in the open air, and absence from political excitement. At Paris, he met Dr. George Hayward, the eminent Boston surgeon, who at once urged 'active treatment' — that is, the application of a system of counter-irritants, in order to reach the malady in the cerebral system and in the spine. With the sanction of Doctor Hay- ward, Mr. Sumner then put himself in the hands of Doctor Brown-Sequard, the cele- brated X'''y^i''^l''^*t, so well known, on both sides of the Atlantic, for his suc- cess in diseases of the spine and nervous system. A careful and acute investigation of Mr. .Sumner's case, by this eminent surgeon, resulted in ascertaining that, though the brain itself was free from any serious remaining injur}', the effects of the origi- nal commotion there were still manifest in an effusion of liquid about the brain and i in a slight degree of congestion, chiefly confined to the membrane around the brain ; it was also found that the spine was suffering in two places from the effect of what ia called contrerfjjup. Mr. Sumner being seated and inclined over his desk at the time of the assault, the blows on his head took effect by counter-stroke, or com- mnnicated shock in the spine. Doctor Brown-Sequard agreed with Doctor Hay- ward, as to the necessity of an active treat- ment, doubting very much whether any de- gree of care or lapse of time, unless the mor- bid condition of the system were directly acted upon, would not always leave the par tient exposed to a relapse. He procttdf}, therefore, at once, to opphj fire to the hack of the ne^Jc and along the spine. " I have applied " — writes M. Sequard to a friend, at this time — " six moxas to Senator Sumner's neck and back, and he has bome these exceedinr/l>/ painful apjjlications with the greatest courage and patience. You know that a ' moxa ' is a burning of the skin with inflamed agaric (jrmadou,) cot- ton wool, or some other very combustible substance. I had never seen a man bear- ing with such a fortitude as 3Ir. Sumner has ehown, the extremely violent pain of this kind of burning." The recovery, by Mr. Sumner, of his general health, from the original shock, was due to what his English and French ph3-sician8 called the wonderful recuperative energies of his constitution and to a remarkable power of resistance to injury. It was this, too, in alliance with his untouched vigor of will, that enabled Mr. Sumner to bear the moxa without the chloroform which Doctor Se- quard recommended, and without the shrinking which the doctor expected. This severe medical treatment was suc- ceeded by that of baths and other reme- dial resorts. In a letter written by Mr. Sumner, in September, 1858, he says : "My life is devoted to my health. I wish that I could say that I am not still an invalid ; but, except when attacked by the pain in my chest, I am now comfortable, and enjoy my baths, my walks, and the repose and incognito which I find here. I begin the day with douches, hot and cold, and when thoroughly exhausted, am wrapped in sheet and blanket, and con- veyed to my hotel and laid on my bed. After my walk, I find myself obliged again to take to my bed, for two hours before dinner. But this whole treatment is in pleasant contrast with the protracted suf- ferings from fire which made my summer 446 ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. a torment. And yet I fear that I must return again to that treatment. It is with a pang unspeakable that I find myself thus arrested in the labors of life and in the duties of my position." It was not until the autumn of 1859, that Mr. Sumner was sufficiently restored in health, to justify him in returning home and resuming his seat in the senate. Though originally elected to the United States senate by a majority of only one vote, in a legislature composed of several hundred members, — and not even then until after many and wearisome ba.Motings, running through several weeks, — be was almost unanimously re-elected in 1857; again, in 1863, with but few dissentient votes; and again, in 1869, with similar unanimity; — making a period of twenty- four consecutive years, and by which he became " the Father of the Senate," in point of protracted official service. He died, in office, in 1874. The fame of his career, as statesman, orator, and philan- thropist, may be said to be world-wide. Such are time's impressive changes. LV. TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIA.L WORLD.— 1857. Known .IS " the Great Panic."— A Sudden, Universal Crash in the Height of Prosperity .-Caused by Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt.-Suspension of Banlssall Over the Country -Failure of the Oldest and Wealthiest Houses —Fortunes Swept Away in a Day .-Prostration of Every Branch of Industry.— Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering— The Panic of 1837 a Comparison — Extravagance and High Prices.— Chimerical Railroad Schemes.-Mania for Land Investments — Reckless Stock Gambling.— Western Paper Cities —Fabulous Prices for " Lots."— Money Absorbed in this Way.— Bursting of the Bubble.— The First Great Blow.— A Bomb in Money Circles -Wide- spread Shock and Terror.— Fierce Crowds at the Banks.- A Run Upon Them for Specie.-They " Goto the Wall."— Savings Bank E.tcitement.— Rare Doings at the Counters,— Wit, Mirtli, Despair, and Kuin.— Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street.— Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped.— Business Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Difficulty. ■• Th. mn,t extraordinary, riolent, and destructive panic ever experienced in this coul>try."-GlBBONS-s atsTOET or B*nk3 and Uaneino. BON ON A BANK. AXY pel sons will recall, even at this remote lapse of time, the terrible com- mercial and business revulsion which preceded, by just a score of years, that more general and calamitous one of 1857,— the latter being universally known to this day as " ^Ae Great Panic" During the first- named, every bank in the Union failed and suspended specie payment, with a compar- atively few exceptions. Extravagance pervaded all classes of society, and so general and feverish was the excitement in western lands' speculation, that men grasped at 'lots' in that boundless and then almost untracked region, as if the supply was about to be exhausted. Indeed, the picture is but slightly if at all overdrawn, which repre- sents the land mania of that period as swallowing up, in its mad whirl, all classes. The "man of one idea" was visible everywhere; no man had two. He who had no money begged, borrowed, or stole it ; he who had, thought he made a generou. sacri- fice if he" lent it cent per cent. The tradesman forsook his shop; the farmer his 448 THE GREAT YANIC OF 1857. plough ; the merchant his counter ; the lawyer his oiSce ; the clergyman his study to join the general cbase. The man with one leg, or he that had none, could at least get on board a steamer, and make for Chicago or Milwaukee; the strong, the able, but above all, the " enterprising," set out with his pocket map and his pocket compass, to thread the dim woods, and see with his own eyes, — for who could be so demented as to waste time in planting, in building, in hammering iron, in making shoes, when the path of wealth lay wide and flowery before him ! A ditcher, hired by the job to do a certain piece of work in his line, was asked — " Well, John, did you make anything ? " " Pretty well ; I cleared about ten dol- lars a day, but I could have made more by standin' round" — that is, watching the land market, for bargains. The host of travelers on their western speculating tours met with many difficul- ties, as might be su])posed. Such search- ing among trees for town lines ! — such ransacking of the woods for section cor- ners, ranges, and base lines ! — such anxious care in identifying spots possessing " par- ticular advantages ! " And then, alas ! after all, such precious blunders, — blun- ders which called into action another class of operators, who became popularly known as " land lookers." These were plentiful at every turn, ready to furnish " water- power," "pine lots," or anything else, at a moment's notice. It was impossible to mention any part of the country which they had not "personally surveyed." They would state, with the gravity of astrologers, what sort of timber predomi- nated on any given tract, drawing sage deductions as to the capabilities of the soil ! Did the purchaser incline to city property ? Lo ! a splendid chart, setting forth the advantages of some unequaled site. But at last this bubble burst — thousands of fortunes vanished into thin air — the crisis and the panic came like a whirl- wind. Similar was the state of things preced- ing the awful crash in 1857. The times were characterized by excessive debts and almost incredible extravagance and specu- lations. The cities, and many parts of the country, were drained of means for legiti- mate purposes, being devoted, instead, to the construction of unproductive railroads, or absorbed in western land speculations. The new territories, and some parts of th« western states, were almost covered with paper cities, selling to the credulous at almost fabulous prices. In Kansas alone, where scarcely one legal title had as yet been granted, there were more acres laid out for cities, than were covered by all the cities in the northern and middle states. Nearly the whole west swarmed with spec- ulators, who neither intended to cultivate the soil nor settle there, but who expected to realize fortunes, without labor, out of the bona fide settler. Lots in " cities," where was scarcely a house, were sold to the inexperienced and the unwary, at jjrices equaling those in the large cities. These operations, with others of a similarly chimerical character, made money scarce everywhere, and diverted thousands of men, and much of the capital of the coun- try, from the business of producing, — tending, of course, to extravagant prices of food. But the omens of disaster began to cast their spectral shadows athwart the finan- cial sky, the first manifestation being a regular decline in the value of leading railroad stocks, especially the western roads. But the first great blow to public confidence was given by the unexpected failure, in August, of the Ohio Life Insur- ance and Trust Company. The magni- tude and importance of the operations of this institution throughout the country, amounting to millions of dollars, and in- volving so many individuals and corpora- tions, rendered its suspension a fearfid disaster. The announcement fell like a bomb in the money circles, and, by the first or second week of September, banks and business houses began to stop pay- ment, and a panic ensued, which became almost universal during the month. The THE GEEAT PANIC OF 1857. U\i best mercantile paper was at a discount of from three to five per cent, a month. Toward the close of the month three of the leading banks of Philadelphia failed, and the remainder resolved upon a tempo- rary suspension of specie payments. This was followed by a similar step on the part of most of the banks of Pennsylvania, Maryland, the District of Columbia, and New Jersey. No such intense excitement had ever before prevailed in Philadelphia, as that which reigned when the bank of Pennsyl- being nearly two million dollars. Very early on the same day, the Girard and Commercial banks ceased paying their de- posits, but continued to pay their bills. Checks were marked good and returned to the holders. After three o'clock, the city was full of all sorts of rumors, and, at a meeting of the bank presidents, a universal suspension was agreed upon. These tid- ings became rapidly known throughout the towns and villages of the state, and the next morning a vast number of anxious people flocked into the city by steam-boat EXCITEMEST IN BUSINESS ClKCl^S DDKING TUE GKEAT FANIO. vania closed its doors. Crowds of people poured into Third street from the distant extremities of the city, and the street became a perfect jam, everybody who had any money in those banks which had not yet stopped specie payment, being in haste to obtain their dues. From this vast mass of people there radiated lines reaching to the counters of all the banks, demanding coin for bills and deposits ; and all the various applicants, as they presented them- selves, received their money, and retired in good order. This scene continued until the hour of closing, the amount of coin thus paid out, from eleven to three o'clock, 29 and railroad. As if unwilling to believe the unwelcome news, they gathered in crowds opposite the various banks, pa- tiently awaiting the hour for opening. All appeared bent on getting coin for their checks and biUs. At ten o'clock the doors opened, police oiBcers being everywhere about, to preserve order. Each customer went up in turn, presented his check, and had it marked good; while such as held bills were told that the redemption of them in specie was temporarily suspended. And now, all over the land, east, west, north, and south, the dark days of fear, alarm, aiid ruin, settled down upon the 450 THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. people, and panic raged like a pestilence. Indeed, the extent of the crash far ex- ceeded what it would have been, but for the shock and terror which so needlessly possessed men's minds at the instant, and unbalanced their judgment. Universal distrust prevailed — a loss of that mutual confidence between man and man, without which, the foundations of mercantile credit are washed away as so much sand, but with which, temporary difficulties, even though stringent, may be surmounted, and total ruin to individuals and the public prevented. No more fitting illustration of the working of this principle of confidence could be cited, in sustaining or overturn- ing the steadiness of business affairs, than the anecdote of the little Frenchman who loaned a merchant five thousand dollars, when times were good, but who called at the counting-house on the times becoming " hard," in a state of agitation only faintly portrayed in the following hasty colloquy which ensued : " How do you do ? " inquired the mer- chant, as the French creditor presented himself at the counter. " Sick — ver sick," — replied monsieur. " What is the matter ? " " De times is de matter." " De times ? — ^what disease is that ? " " De malaide vat break all de marchants, ver much." " Ah — the times, eh ? Well, they are bad, very bad, sure enough ; but how do they affect you ? " "Vy, monsieur, I lose de confidence." " In whom ? " "In everybody." "Not in me, I hope?" " Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; but I do not know who to trust a present, when all de marchants break several times, all to pieces." "Then I presume you want your money." " Oui, monsieur, I starve for want of I' argent" (the silver). " Can't you do without it ? " "No, monsieur, I must have him." "You must?" " Oui, monsieur," said little dimity breeches, turning pale with apprehension for the safety of his money. " And you can't do without it ? " "No, monsieur, not von other leetle moment longare." The merchant reached his bank book, drew a check on the good old ' Continen- tal ' for the amount, and handed it to his visitor. " Vat is dis, monsieur ? " " A check for five thousand dollars, with the interest." " Is it Ion ? " (good,) said the French- man, with amazement. "Certainly." " Have you V argent in de bank ? " "Yes." "And is it parfaitement convenient to pay de same ? " " Undoubtedly ! What astonishes you ? " "Vy, dat you have got him in dees times." " Oh, yes, and I have plenty more. I owe nothing that I cannot pay at a. mo- ment's notice." The Frenchman was perplexed. " Monsieur, you shall do me von leetle favor, eh ? " "With all my heart." "Well, monsieur, you shall keep V ar- gent for me some leetle year longare." " Why, I thought you wanted it ! " " Tout au contraire. I no vant de argent. I vant de grand confidence. Suppose you no got de money, den I vant him ver much — suppose you got him, den I no vant him at all. Vous comprenez, eh?" Aiter some further conference, the little chatterer prevailed upon the merchant to retain the money, and left the counting- house with a light heart, and a counte- nance very different from the one he wore when he entered. His confidence was restored — he did not stand in need of the money. The banks of New York and New England remained firm, far into the month of October, but so rapid and numberless ■were the failures, each succeeding day, of THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 451 railroad and other corporations, and busi- ness houses which had — some of them — breasted all the financial storms of the last half century, that these were finally obliged to succamb to the avalanche of pressure, and fell into the vortex of universal sus- pension. Tuesday, the thirteenth of Octo- ber, the day preceding the suspension, was the climax of the struggle, and Wall street, New York, as the great center of money operations in the United States, presented a scene of wild excitement never before witnessed. The account of that scene, as given by the reporter for the Tribune, is here in part reproduced. At ten o'clock in the was hurriedly dashed off at its foot, and in another moment it was on its way to the bank. The crowd increased in numbers. Each person took his place in the line and awaited his turn, while policemen kept those out who were present only from motives of curiosity. One after another was paid, and with the shining treasure departed. Scores of hands, skilled by long experience in counting coin, were taxed to their utmost in their efforts to keep pace with the demand for gold. Altogether, the scene presented was one of the wildest excitement. Thirty to forty thousand persons were at the, same moment in the EFFECTS OF THE HARD TIMES. morning, says that journal, the fronts of the different institutions indicated, by the crowds gathered around them, that the ability of the vaults to yield up their treas- ure at the call of depositors and bill-hold- ers was to undergo no ordinary test. Check after check was presented and paid, and still they came. Word soon went forth that a run had commenced on the banks, and it passed from one house to another until the whole lower part of the city was alive with excitement. Bank books were examined; but a moment was required to prepare a check — a signature street — some rushing onward in the hope to secure their deposits before the hour of closing should arrive, and others clustered together, discussing the condition of af- fairs. One after another of the announce- ments made, of banks failing under the continued drain upon them, fell with dis- may among the crowd, and confident pre- dictions were uttered that ten o'clock of Wednesday would tell the story of the suspension of all. But not a few there were, whose belief in the ability of the moneyed institutions was still unshaken, and they asserted, with earnestness that 452 THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. every demand in checks and bills would be met to the last, and Panic be laughed to scorn. But, with all the anxiety and resolute- ness depicted upon so many countenances, there were those who laughed and cracked jokes about their deposits in banks which had suspended, and about their stock in smashed-up railroads, as though the whole thing were a huge joke. From the top of Wall street to the bottom — from Broad- way to Water street — the sidewalks were crowded with people, desirous to know the truth of the rumors which filled the air. In other parts of the citj', stirring scenes were transpiring, and not a few that were quite illustrative of human nature in its different veins. During the run upon the Bowery Savings Bank, an old Irishwoman, short, thick, resolute, and ' a little in for it,' made herself conspicu- ous by elbowing her way through the dis- trustful depositors, very unceremoniously, and denouncing, in no measured terms, " the big blackguards that would be af ther chatiug a poor body out iv her hard earned wagis." Some order of precedence is cus- tomary at such times, but the heavy shoes of the Irishwoman did such execution upon the corns of all who stood in her way, that she soon obtained a good place near the door, in spite of the remonstrances of a dozen or two of younger Biddys, Mag- gies, Marys, and Kathleens, who had been waiting an hour or two. At the door, she had a wordy quarrel with a broad-should- ered black man in advance of her, calling him a "runaway nagur;" and anon she varied her performances by shaking her fist in the face of a policeman — who, as an official conservator of the peace, had under- taken to check her, — and, at length, very red and sweaty, she stood before the pay- ing teller and presented her book, with a vocal invocation to him to do the clean thing. " What's this mean ? " said he, look- ing at her somewhat impatiently. " What's your name ? " "Can't yoos rade writin' hand ? " she rejoined sharply ; " shure, me nam's on the book ! " "But this," said he, " is only a grocer's old pass book ! What's your name, I say ? " " Mary McEagan I was christened, but I married Pat Millikens." The teller turned rapidly to his index of depositors. " You have got no money in this bank ! " said he, when he had ascertained the fact. She left the premises in company with an officer, to whom she confessed that she had found the pass book near the crowd, and think- ing it had been dropped accidentally by a depositor, she had thought to obtain the money before the depositor applied for it. At the same bank, one man who drew out his deposits was so intoxicated that he could hardly stand ; quite likely, he lost the savings of years before the night was over. At another savings bank, one poor girl had her pocket picked of her little all — about seventy-seven dollars, before she had got out of the crowd. A vast deal of chaffing occurred among those who thronged the doorways of the banks. " I don't know," said one to a bystander, " where to put my money when I get it ! " "Give it to me," rejoined the other. " Sew it up in j'our shirt," said another ; and several other methods were promptly and merrily suggested by the sj'mpathiz- ing spectators, such as " Stick it in your wig" — "Let the old woman have it" — " Put it in your boots, and let me wear them ; " etc. At the Sixpenny Savings Bank, a little newsboy, without a jacket, and only one suspender (and that a string), confronted the teller on Monday, and demanded to know whether " She was all right " — meaning the Institution — because if she was, he didn't mean to be scared, if every- body else was. He'd got forty-two cents salted down there, and all he wanted was his (the teller's) word of honor that it wouldn't spile. The teller assured him that his money was ready for him at any moment. "'Nuff said, 'tween gen'l'men, but I don't want it," rejoined the youth, and with a self-complacent, well-satisfied air, walked out of the bank. "Is she good ? " cried two or three other news- boys who were awaiting the result, at the doorsteps. " Yes, s-i-r-r-e-e ! " he replied, THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 453 "as good as wheat. Ketch our bank to stop ! Yoos ought to seed the gold I seed in der safe ! " " How much was they ? " inquired a companion. " More'n a house- full ! " was the prompt response, " an' yoos don't ketch dis 'ere chile a-makin' an oold woman of his-self, an' drawin' out his money ; I ain't so green — I ain't ! " It will require but little strain of the imagination to realize, to one's mind, the case of Mrs. Jones, who, on receipt of the news of the banks suspending specie pay- ments, hastened to her savings bank, elbowed her way smartly to the desk, pre- sented her book, and demanded her money. " Madam," said the clerk, persuasively, "are you sure you want to draw this money out in specie ? " " Mrs. Jones," said a director, with an oracular frown, " do you know that you are injuring your fellow depositors ? " " And setting an example of great folly to less educated persons in this commu- nity ? " struck in another director. " Let us advise you simply to reflect," interposed the clerk, blandly. "To wait for a day, at least," said the director. At last there was a pause. Mrs. Jones had been collecting herself. She burst now. In a tone which was heard throughout the building, and above all the din of ordinary business, and at which her questioners turned ashy pale, she said : " Will you pay me my inoney ? — tes or no!" They paid her instantly. Not only in the great centers of business and finance, like New York, Philadelphia, Uoston, Baltimore, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and New Orleans, but in every town and village, the scarcity of money and the failure of banks and commercial houses, operated to paralyze industry and bring want to thousands of families. In conse- quence of the universal stoppage of facto- ries, the poorer classes in some of the man- ufacturing communities saw winter ap- proaching, with no prospect of earning a livelihood. Whole families began to suffer for bread — the fathers willing and eager to work, but absolutely nothing to do. Tales of distress were to be heard at almost every step, for the factories, forges, and foundries, had all ceased their cheerful hum of activity, and every day's intelli- gence from different parts of the land was that of fresh accumulations of disaster, increasing the severity of the situation, and adding to the general gloom. The oldest, heaviest, richest, and firmest mon- ej-ed institutions, corporations, companies and firms, which were considered equal to any pressure that might be brought to bear against them, were daily chronicled as having " gone to the wall." Fortunes were swept away, like ashes in a whirl- wind. Not even in 1837, when the bank- ing system of the country was in so preca- rious a condition, was there such a terrible downfall of old and wealthy houses. At the west, there was one short, tremendous collapse, that seemed to bring ruin, at one quick blow, upon everything and every- body ; and at the south, the devastation was no less wide-spread and fatal. Various means were resorted to, to real- ize cash for stocks of goods on hand, even at a ruinous discount. At numberless shop windows were to be seen in staring letters, such announcements as: 'These goods sold at wholesale prices.' 'Selling off at half cost.' 'Bargains to be had for two days — now or never ! ' ' We must realize ten thousand dollars to-day, at any sacri- fice ; ' etc. Indeed, in all the large cities, the dry goods dealers, being severely pressed for money, offered their goods in this way, and effected large sales. A large number of the most prominent wholesale dealers threw open their vast warehouses to retail customers, and by this means, probabljf, not a few houses, of that class, managed to escape the hard fate that befell others. Thus, in a word, there was exhibited the melancholy spectacle of a great nation's commercial, fiiancial, manufacturing, and industrial interests in utter ruin, from one end of the broad land to the other ; pros- perity succeeded by abject adversity ; con- 454 THE GEEAT PANIC OF 1857. fidence supplanted by total distrust; a paralysis of all trade ; the stoppage of almost every bauk iu every part of the United States, the cessation of factories, the discharge of thousands of laborers, the inability to bring our large crops of jwod- uce to market, the ruinous rate of two or three per cent, a month on the strongest paper, and a ruinous depreciation in the price of all stocks. The steamers on the great rivers and lakes stood still ; the canal boats ceased to ply ; the railroad trains conveyed less than half the usual amount of travelers and merchandise ; the navigating interest shared the common distress, so that the cargoes, brought from abroad, either passed into the public stores, or were re-exported at great loss ; the freighting business was nearly annihilated. Alarmed, too, at the prospect before them, ship-loads of emigrants were taken home to their native land, in the packets run- ning from Boston and New York to Eu- rope. Nor did the fortune-tellers fail to drive a brisk business in informing igno- rant and credulous inquirers what was to " turn up." That this great national calamity had its root in the fever for land and railroad speculation, involving enormous debt, with 110 corresponding sound basis or adequate means, cannot be doubted. Mr. Gibbons, one of the very ablest of American finan- cial writers, argues, in respect to this point, that, notwithstanding the appear- ances of prosperity previous to the panic, there existed all the conditions of extraor- dinary financial disturbance. A prodig- ious weight of insolvency had been carried along for years in the volume of trade. Extravagance of living had already sapped the foundations of commercial success, in hundreds of instances where credit sup- plied the place of lost capital. Misman- agement and fraud had gained footing in public companies to an incredible degree; hundreds of millions of bonds were issued with little regard to the validity of their basis, and pressed upon the market by dis- lionest agents, at any price, from sixty down to thirty cents on the dollar. False quotations were obtained by sham auction sales. The newspaper press, in particular instances, was bribed into silence, or became a partner in the profits to be derived from the various schemes which it commended to general confidence. The land grants by congress to railway compa- nies gave added impetus to speculation, and state legislatures were bribed to locate roads to serve individual interests. Public, as well as private credit, was comjjromised. It could not be otherwise than that bankruptcy and an overwhelming crash should succeed such an inflated and preca- rious state of things. Even when trade and business are conducted in accordance with fair and legitimate rules, the records of insolvency among American merchants tell a woful tale. Thus, General Dearborn, who for twenty years was collector of the port of Boston, and who had ample oppor- tunities for observing the vicissitudes of trade, ascertained, on investigation, that among every hundred of the merchants and traders of that city — whose character for carefulness and stability will compare favorably with that of merchants in anj' other portion of the land — not more than three ever acquired an independence. This conclusion was not arrived at without great distrust ; but an experienced mer- chant, who was consulted, fully confirmed its truth. A Boston antiquarian in the year 1800 took a memorandum of every person doing business on Long Wharf, and in 1840 only five in one hundred remained ; all but these had either failed or died insolvent. The Union Bank com- menced business in 1798, there being then only one other bank. The Union was overrun with business, the clerks being obliged to work till midnight, and even on Sundays. An examination, some fifty or sixty years from the starting of the bank, showed that of one thousand accounts opened at the commencement, only six remained ; all the others had either failed, or died insolvent, — houses whose paper had passed without question, the very par- ties who had constituted the solid men of the city, all had gone down in that period. THE GREAT PA^IG OF 1857. 455 Of the direful havoc, therefore, created by a sudden and violent panic, sweeping over the whole country like a hurricane, some idea may be formed from the statistics here given. Kotwithstanding the resumption of business on a specie basis, in about two months from the time of their suspension, by most of those banks which were in a solvent condition, it was a long while before trade and industry recovered from their crippled state; and the embarrass- ment and suffering which consequently weighed, during so protracted a period, upon all classes of the community, were painful to the last degree. THE "GREAT AWAKENING" IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD ; AND THE POPULAR REVIVAL MOVEMENT (IN 1875-6) UNDER MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.— 1857. Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer- Meetings Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the Rolling Prairies of the West and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from all Classes, to the Churclies of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost." — Early American Revivals. — Dr. Franklin and Mr. Whitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spontaneous, — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce. — Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the Week Alike. — Business Men in the Work. — Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Center of Influence — Fulton Street Prayer-Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors. — Countless Requests for Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence Reformed. — Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilist*, — Jessie Fremont's Gold Ring. — " Awful " Gardner's Case. •* What nnthinff earthly Kiv*i, or eon destro.v, The Boul's calm eunshine and the heartfelt J07.** ^ lEVIVALS of religious feeling and interest, attended with great numerical accessions to ■ ^s^ the church, have been not unfrequent among the various denominations of Christians in Amer- ica, from the very earliest period of the country's settlement ; and, during the eighteenth century, under the labors of such men as Whitefield, Edwards, the Tennents, and others, such results fol- lowed as had never before characterized BOOK OF KEQDESTs FOR PKAVERs. j^uy age Or people. The labors of Whitefield, iu especial, stirred the public mind to its depths, and reached all hearts. Even Dr. Franklin, rationalist though he was, was won upon, head, heart, and pocket, by the power of this mightiest of pulpit orators. Happening to attend one of his meet- ings in Philadelphia, and perceiving, in the course of the sermon, that Whitefield intended to finish with a collection, Franklin silently resolved that the preacher should get nothing from him, though he had in his pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As Whitefield proceeded, Franklin began to soften, and determined to give the copper. Another stroke of the preacher's oratory, made Franklin ashamed of that, and determined him to give the silver instead ; but GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 457 the preacher finished so admirably, that the philosopher emptied his pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all. On the same occasion, another gentleman, sus- pecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before leaving home. Towards the conclu- sion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend him some money for the purpose. The request was made to, perhaps, the only man in the assembly who had the firmness not to be affected by the preacher. His answer was, "At any other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freel3'; but not now, for thee seems to be out of thy right senses." The multitudes, of all denominations, that went to hear this won- derful man, were enormous — indeed, one great secret of his success was, his freedom from sectarian prejudice and animosity. As an illustration of this quality, it is related that in the midst of one of his most overpowering discourses, he stopped short for an instant, and then uttered the following impressive apostrophe: "Father Abraham, who have you in heaven ? any Episcopalians?" "No." " Any Presby- terians ? " "No." "Any Baptists?" " No." "Have you any Methodists, Sece- ders, or Independents there?" "No, no ! " " Why who have j'ou there ? " " We don't know those names here. All who are here are Christians, believers in Christ — men who have overcome by the blood of the Lamb, and the word of his testimony." "Oh, is that the case ? then God help me, God help us all, to forget party names, and to become Christians, in deed and in truth." The labors of such a champion could not be otherwise than fruitful of good. Without dwelling upon the scenes and results relating to the early religious efforts alluded to above, it may be said of the revival in 1857-8 — known as "the Great Awakening," and which is the subject of this chapter, — that it depended not upon any leader or preacher, however eloquent, but was the spontaneous out- growth of the heart's necessities, felt in common by the great mass of the public, in view of the financial tornado which, sweeping with such universal destructive- ness over the land, had given impressive weight to the truth, that " the things which are seen are temporal, out the things which are not seen are eternal." No words could convey a better idea of the general feeling which thus possessed men's minds at this period of mercantile ruin on the one hand, and of religious anxiety on the other, than those uttered by a promi- nent merchant of New York, at one of the business men's daily prayer-meetings in that cit}'. "Prayer," said he, "was never so great a blessing to me as it is now. I should certainly either break down or turn rascal, except for it ! When one sees his property taken from him every day, by those who might pay him if they were willing to make sacrifices in order to do it, but who will not make the least effort even for this end, and by some who seem de- signedly to take advantage of the times, in order to defraud him — and when he him- self is liable to the keenest reproaches from others if he does not pay money, which he cannot collect and cannot create — the temptation is tremendous to forget Chris- tian charity, and be as hard and unmerci- ful as anybody. If I could not get some half hours every day to pray myself into a right state of mind, I should either be overburdened and disheartened, or do such things as no Christian man ought." Tes- timonies like this were innumerable from business men, — they, as well as the laity in general, being most prominent in carry- ing on the work. But, though this movement was, in a very great degree, spontaneous, it was early accompanied by a systematic plan of family visitation, in the principal cities, and b^' noonday prayer-meetings, in almost every city, town, and village, from one end of the country to the other. In such places as New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Chicago, Richmond, as well as farther south and west, not only were the usual houses of worship crowded daily, but 458 GREAT AWAKENING IN THE EELIGIOUS WORLD. the largest public halls were hired for tlie same purpose, and resounded every day with fervent prayers, songs of praise, and earnest exhortations. Thus, in Philadelphia, the vast audience room of Jayne's Hall, and, in New York, Burton's well-known theater, were appro- priated for religious assemblings. The room hitherto occupied in the first-named hall, contained accommodations for about three hundred persons, and when it was decided upon to remove into the large hall, it was with no expectation that the room would be filled, at such an hour as noon- da}'. To the amazement of all, however, it was densely crowded, every seat being occupied, including the settees in the aisles, and a large portion of the immense galler- ies, and those who left for want of room upon the main floor, are said to have exceeded the number who could not gain admission on the day previous, when the meeting was held in the small room ad- joining. It was estimated that there were certainly not less than three thousand per- sons who entered the hall during the hour, and it was conceded, by those whose means of knowledge enabled them to judge, that this was the largest meeting convened for the simple purpose of prayer to God, that had ever been assembled in this country. From New York city, a vast religious influence went forth to all parts of the land, and details of the daily proceedings in the prayer-meetings held at Burton's theater, and in the Fulton street and John street church vestries, were published far and wide by tlie secular press. Indeed, the fullness and candor cliaracterizing the reports contained in the city journals, were, with scarcely an exception, most honorable to those influential mediums of public enlightenment. Of the now almost world-renowned Fulton street prayer-meet- ing, held at first in one room, but to which, as the revival progressed, it was found necessary to add two more, the Daily Tri- bune of March 6, 1858, said: "All three are now not only filled to their utmost capacity, but would be still more largely attended if there were sitting or even standing-room to be offered to the multi- tude. A placard is posted on the gate, inviting j^ersons to enter, though such an invitation seems no longer necessary : ' Step in for five minutes, or longer, as j-our time permits.' Inside notices are hung on the walls, to the effect that prayers and remarks should be brief, ' in order to give all an opportunity,' and for- bidding the introduction of ' controverted points,' for the purpose of preventing the- ological discussion. These precautions are taken, in order to give as much variety as possible to the exercises, for it is always unpardonable to render a crowded meeting dull. The frequenters of this meeting come from all classes of society, and are invited as such, without regard to their differences. Many clergymen of the city churches, and many prominent laymen, including merchants and gentlemen in the legal and medical professions, are seen there every day — as they ought to be seen — side by side with the mechanic and the day laborer, and even the street beggar. Draymen drive up their carts to the church, and, hitching their horses outside, go in with the crowd; and 'fine ladies,' who sometimes have Christian hearts in spite of unchristian fashions, driven down from *up town ' in their fine carriages, also step in and mingle with the same multi- tude. The exercises consist about equally of prayers, remarks, and singing. Of course it is impracticable for so many to take part in the speaking or the audible praying, but they all join in the singing with great zeal and emphasis. On one occasion, the volume of sound was so lieavy as to dislodge from its place on the wall the clock which had been securely fastened, as was supposed, and bring it crashing to the floor. It is not unfrequent, during the continuance of the meeting, to see a crowd of persons collected in the street in front of the church, to listen to the spirit-stirring hymns that are sung inside. The prayer- meeting held in the old Methodist church in John street is similar to this. The attendance here is already found sufficient GREAT AWAKENING IN THE REIIGIOUS WORLD. 459 to crowd the entire ground floor of the building. Many Methodist bretliren at- tend this meeting in preference to the other, but tlie proceedings are character- ized with entire catholicity and freedom from sectarianism." Perhaps no better illustration could be afforded of this unsec- tarian feeling, as well as of the prevailing spirit of the times, than the following dis- patch, which was sent by telegraph, at noon, March 12th, to the great union prayer-meeting in Jayne's Hall, Philadel- phia : " Christian Brethren — The Kew York John street Union Meeting sends you greeting in brotherly love : ' And the in- habitants of one city shall go to another, saying, Let us go speedily to pray before the Lord, and to seek the Lord of Hosts — I will go also. Praise the Lord — call upon his name — declare his doings among the people — make mention that his name is exalted.' " To the above message, the following dispatch from Mr. George H. Stuart, a prominent Old School Presbyterian and chairman of the Philadelphia meeting, was immediately telegraphed and read to the John street meeting : " Jayne's Hall daily Praj-er Meeting is crowded ; upwards of three thousand pres- ent ; with one mind and heart they glorify our Father in heaven for the mighty work he is doing in our city and country, in tlie building up of saints and the conversion of sinners. The Lord hath done great things for us, whence joy to us is brought. May He who holds the seven stars in his right hand, and who walks in the midst of the churches, be with you by His Spirit this day. Grace, mercy, and peace, be with you." Even among those denominations unac- customed to what are known as 'revival measures ' for the furtherance of religion, such as the Unitarian, Universalist, and Episcopalian, a disposition was manifested to co-operate, in prayers and labors, for the success of the good work. In Boston, and other places, prayer-meetings were con- ducted by the Unitarian clergy and laity, which were thronged to the utmost capac- ity of the halls used for the purpose. In New York, the Orchard Street Universalist church. Rev. Dr. Sawyer, exhibited a warm sjmpathy with the revival, and took an active part in its progress ; praj'er-meetings were held twice a week, which were fully at- tended, a deep religious feeling pervaded the congregation, and large numbers united with the church. The card of invi- tation to their praj-er-meeting, which, like that of other denominations, was exten- sively circulated, read as follows : A gen- eral prajer-meeting will be held every Wednesday and Friday evening, at half- past seven o'clock, in the lecture-room of the Rev. Dr. Sawyer's church. Orchard street, near Broome. 'Ho, everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money ; come ye, buy and eat ; j-ea, come, buy wine and milk with- out money and without price.' Among the Episcopalians, meetings of deep interest were held, including regular evening services for prayer and short ad- dresses, at the Church of the Ascension, New York, Rev. Dr. Bedell's. One of these meetings was of a very impressive character. The meeting commenced with singing the hymn, "Stay, thou insulted Spirit, stay," a series of prayers followed, after which Rev. Mr. Dickson delivered a short address, founded on the words, " Lord, are there few that be saved ? " Other hymns were sung, and then remarks made by Rev. Drs. Dyer and Cutler, Epis- copal rectors. Doctor Cutler said that, twenty years ago, such a meeting as the present one would have been denounced as Mcthodistical ; but he felt that he could almost say, with Simeon of old, "Now, Lord, let thy servant depart in peace," foi he had witnessed that glorious "levia- than," the Episcopal Church, which for forty years he had lamented to see, with all its noble qualities and precious gifts, being fast in the stocks, at last launched and making full headway in the river that flows from the Citj' of God. Next to the Fulton street prayer-meet- ing, in point of wide-reaching influence, 460 GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS V, ORLD. GKOUP OF EMINENT REVIVAL PREiCHEBS DTJRINO THE NATIONAL CENTUBM. GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 461 the meetings for prayer held daily, at noon, in Burton's theater, may be spoken of as most conspicuous. It was hired for this purpose by the New York Young Men's Christian Association, and was crowded daily with earnest-minded men and women, fervent in their songs, prayers, and exhortations. The place made so famous, in years past, by the histrionic [lerformances of Burton, Blake, Placide, Holland, Davenport, Johnston, Lester, Jordan, Fisher, Brougham, and other celebrities, now resounded with the soul- stirring appeals of such men as Cuyler, Beecher, Hatfield, Armitage, and a host of warm-hearted merchants and professional men, all enlisted in the good work of ex- tolling the glad tidings of salvation. In- stead of polkas, schottisches, and waltzes — instead of fiddle and bow, orchestra and overture, — there were the grave and seri- ous hymns, " Children of the Heavenly King," and " Salvation, the joyful sound," " Return, my wandering eoul, return," etc. With the exception of now and then a fervid " Amen," or a hearty " Yes, Lord," the order and quiet of the audience during the speaking were entirely uninterrupted. At all the multitudinous prayer-meet- ings held in different places throughout the country, one marked feature of the proceedings was that of receiving and reading requests for prayers. The re- quests of this character sent to the Fulton street meeting have all been carefully pre- served in a book, constituting a volume upon which no one can look without the deepest interest. The scope and variety of these requests afford so apt a reflection of the state of feeling during the revival period, that a few specimens of those pre- sented at different times and places, will be a fair illustration of all : ' A Christian merchant earnestly desires the prayers of God's people for his co-part- ners in business, and for all the young men in their employment unconverted to God.' 'An anxious wife is praying earnestly at this hour for her husband, who once made a profession of religion, but is now fearful that he never was born of the Spirit, and is in darkness. She asks for an interest in your prayers in his behalf.' ' The prayers of those who are accus- tomed to intercede with God, are requested by a San Franciscan, that the Almighty would visit the city of San Francisco with a gracious outpouring of his Spirit. Re- member your brothers and fathers on the Pacific coast.' ' The prayers of this meeting are re- quested for a young lady who scoffs at religion. Don't forget her, brethren. She has no one to pray for her but the writer of this. Oh, pray for her.' ' A widow asks for the prayers of the brethren and sisters for a son brought up under careful religious instruction, who last night cursed his mother — that he may this day be brought to the feet of Jesus.' ' Prayers are requested for a sister who is given to intemperance.' ' The prayers of Christians are most earnestly requested by a son in behalf of an aged father, nearly seventy years old. A family of ten children are praying- morning, noon, and night for him.' ' The prayers of Christians are requested for a j'oung man — the son of a clergyman — who is an idle jester on the subject of religion, and who has, within the last hour, been heard to ridicule these meet- ings, and to jest upon these subjects.' * My husband is not a Christian, though often thoughtful. I have prayed for his conversion every day since our marriage — nine years. May I ask an interest in your prayers that my husband may seek now an interest in Christ, and that we may both become devoted, earnest, Bible- Christians ? ' ' The prayers of the Fulton street meet- ing are earnestly requested for a bible class of twenty-two young ladies, con- nected with one of the Dutch Reformed churches in this vicinity, some of whom appear to be anxious for their souls.' It was in this spirit that the Great Awakening showed its character and its power in all sections of the land, north, 462 GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. south, east, and west, tlie Wind of God sweeping benignly from the Atlantic to the Pacific, — reaching across the length and breadth of the continent, — from the granite mountains of the north to the roll- ing prairies of the west and the golden elopes of California. It was, in a word, the American Pentecost, — the great relig- ious epoch of the national century, un- equaled in earnestness, union, and univer- sality, by any similar movement that had preceded it, in the history of the western world. The spiritual activities of the denominations were everywhere constant and fruitful, the accessions to the churches being numbered by scores of thousands. In places the most obscure, remote and isolated, the most fervid religious engaged- ness was to be found, while, in the larger towns and cities, no business man, what- ever his location, needed to go forty rods to find a prayer-meeting in operation, with a printed invitation outside for him to enter and listen to the prayers and expe- riences of others, and, if he so desired, take a part in the exercises himself. There were special meetings for prayer, also, in behalf of firemen, policemen, waiters at hotels, seamen, and boys, maintained wholly or in part by the classes specially named, and resulting in a large amount of good. Men of established Christian char- acter were strengthened in their good pur- poses ; the indifferent and heedless were awakened to thoughtfulness on religious themes ; and multitudes, everywhere, who had led lives of immorality and wicked- ness, dangerous to society, were reclaimed, and henceforth walked in the path of virtue and honor. Of the many interesting incidents which transpired during this wonderful period, only a few can here be cited. Just after the commencement of the great panic, (says Rev. Mr. Adams, a well- known Methodist preacher in New York,) a young man called on me late on Satur- day night. He was the picture of distress and despair. Supposing him to be one of the many cases that daily came under my notice, I invited him in. He sat some minutes in perfect silence, and finally burst into tears. It was some time before he could control himself sufficiently to go on, and then said, "Can you do anything for me ? " I requested him to state his case. He said he was miserable beyond description — had been blessed with pious parents and a religious education, but had gone far away from the counsels of his fathers ; he had fallen into shameful sin, until his soul loathed himself, and he had been on the verge of self-destruction. "This afternoon," said he, "feeling a hell within, I went and bought poison, — went into my room, and was about to take it, when something seemed to say to me, ' Go down and see the minister,' and I have come. Will you pray for me ? " He fell on his knees and cried aloud for mercy. After two hours of prayer, he grew calm, and finally joyful. He gave me a package, and requested me to destroy it; there was laudanum in it — enough to have killed half a dozen men. One of the first conversions among the sailors, was that of a man who had been greatly addicted to gambling, and to other vices that usually accompany this. When he went to the meeting, he had just left the gaming-table ; but when he returned, his first act was to consign his cards and dice to the flames. He then knelt down, prayed, and was converted. He went to sea, and on board the ship daily prayer- meetings were held both in the cabin and forecastle. A merchant, after having attended one of the crowded prayer-meetings held in the city, determined, on returning home, to make an effort for the spiritual good of some of his friends and neighbors. One of these was a man who avowed himself an infidel. A prayer-meeting was organized, to which this man with others was invited, and, after several days' attendance, rose on one occasion, and requested that prayer should be made in his behalf. To the surprise and almost astonishment of his acquaintances, he shortly afterward re- nounced infidelity, and embraced the Christian religion. GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 463 At many of the telegraph offices, mes- sages were constautlj' being sent to all jiarts of the land, announcing conversions, kjome of these were exceedingly tender and touching, such as, 'Dear mother, the revi- val continues, and I, too, have been con- verted.' ' My dear parents, j-ou will re- joice to hear that I have found peace with God.' 'Tell mj' sister that I have come to the Cross of Christ.' 'At last I have faith and peace.' The influence of personal effort and a good example was forcibly illustrated in the following case of a man and wife, who were utterly regardless even of the forms of religion, the husband, indeed, being an infidel. The wife had, however, been taken by some one to the meetings in a neighboring Methodist church, and, un- known to her husband, had become inter- ested in them. One day he was scoffi.'-g in her presence at the revival, expressing his disbelief in everything of the kind, especially ridiculing the Methodist modes of labor, and winding up with a threat that he would soon stop any of his family who should be guilty of the foil}' of going up to the altar. " Why," said his wife, throwing her arms round his neck, and giving him a kiss, " do you know that / was there last night ? " " No," he replied, returning her kiss ; " but I am glad of it." He was softened ; that same evening he accompanied her to meeting, and went up to the altar himself. St. Paul's Episcopal church, on Broad- way, New York, was filled with multi- tudes, on Wednesday and Friday evenings, in attendance on the devotional services performed there. On one of these occa- sions, soon after the exercises commenced, the large and fashionable congregation was surprised by the entrance of three Indian maidens, wrapped in their blue blankets. They paused for an instant at the door, and then advanced to the front of the altar with quiet dignity and self-possession, and knelt down to their devotions. As the solemn ceremonies drew near to a close, they rose, crossed themselves, and, saluting the altar, glided down the aisle and from the church. They were of the Caughne- waga tribe, residing near Montreal, and had visited New York for the purpose of selling their trinkets, bead moccasins, and baskets. Being mostly Catholics, they usually worshiped in the church of that order on Canal street; but it seemed that they had observed the brilliantly illumin- ated church in passing bj-, and had entered, forgetful of form or sect, to kneel with their white sisters before the common Father of all. In Mr. Beecher's church, Brooklyn, at the close of one of the morning meetings, a charitable collection was taken up. Among the audience was Mrs. Fremont (" Our Jessie "), who, happening to have no money in her pocket, as the plate was passed, took from her finger a heavy gold ring, and threw it in as the only contribu- tion which she was able at the moment to make. The ring contained on the outside an engraved bee, — in allusion to a beautiful incident in Fremont's passage of the Rocky Mountains, — and, on the inside, the inscription, ' March 4, '57.' One of the most remarkable conversions among the dangerous and criminal classes, was that of Orville Gardner, commonly called " Awful " Gardner, a noted prize- fighter and trainer of pugilists. He was induced to attend one of the Methodist meetings, and, to the surprise of multi- tudes, he requested the praj-ers of the con- gregation, a request which on three differ- ent occasiops he repeated. At this time, he was residing in the vicinity of New York. Having some unimportant busi- ness to do in that city, a friend asked him if he would " jump into the cars and go down and attend to it." He replied, " I have more important business to attend to first, and I shall not go to the city till it is done." He had then three men under his training for a prize-fight. On being asked if he would give them further les- sons, he replied that "he would go to them soon, but on a different errand from boxing and training — he would try to per- suade them to reform, and to embrace religion." 464 GREAT AWAKENING IN THE EELIGIOUS WORLD. A young man, hearing himself prayed for by some friends, became so angry, that he resolved to sell his farm and go west, away from such interfering relatives. They continued to pray, and he finally sold his farm, and was going to start for Albany, on his way to the west. While going to take the cars, he passed the prayer-meeting, and, having some time to wait for the train, thought he would just step in, to pass the time away, and see what was going on. He went in, was deeply impressed, and his case was imme- diately added to the great multitude of similar instances of reformation, which made the Great Awakening of 1857-8 so memorable in the religious history of the nation. world-wide fame, who had some time prcs- viously been on a tour of active and suc- cessful religious labor in different parts of Europe. Returning to their native land, they devoted themselves, for consecutive months, and with great and disinterested earnestness, among the masses, and this, too, as it appeared, not only without stated or assured pecuniary compensation, but absolutely without consideration of money or hire, beyond what was voluntarily con- tributed by friends for their current ex- penses. Never before, perhaps, were the fount- ains of the higher life in man opened up so abundantly and universally in our land, as by the efforts of these simple-spoken but intrepid and warm-hearted reformers, ^'^^eHT.im^^ 0.5ANKE'' But, in addition to the Great Awaken- ing thus distinguishing the periods de- scribed, and which wrought such mighty results, there was to succeed another, which, in some of its aspects, was to prove even more noteworthy. Indeed, it may be said, without exaggeration, that one of the most happy, conciliatory, and widely useful religious movements characterizing the history of our country, and, in fact, the history of modern times, — creating an enthusiasm as genial and far-reaching as it was decorous and practical, — was that which commenced in the fall of 1875, under the personal auspices of Messrs. Moody and Sankey, lay evangelists of as they went from town to town and from city to city, with the proclamation, by fer- vent discourse, and cheering, melting song, of the " glad tidings of good." Standing aloof from even the shadow of sectarian propagandism or theological dis- putation, they enlisted the co-operation — or, at least, the good will and God-speed — of all denominations of Christians, and, so conciliatory was their speech, and so ra- tional their methods, in appealing to the irreligious or indifferent, that, unlike the experience which would probably have at- tended a different course, little if any time was lost in provoking criticism or combat- i ing objections. And this, in a word, was GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLL. 465 the cause of the welcome extended them, wherever they went, and of the almost invariably rich harvests which accom- panied their labors. Nothing, in fact, could better evince the favorable impres- sio'i made by these evangelists upon soci- ety, than the judgments of the value of their work, expressed by those not holding their opinions. Thus, the Tablet, an in- fluential journal of the Roman Catholic faith, published in New York, spoke of Mr. Moody as affording, in "the midst of an age of mocking and unbelieving, a kind of earnest testimony to Jesus, and we can not find it in our heart to say it is not of God ; " and, though guarding its conces- sions by the claim for its own Church of possessing solely the real truth, it admit- ted, nevertheless, that "it is something in cities where the divinity of Christ and His divine teaching are openly blasphemed, and where to the great bulk of the popula- tion the Christian religion is a matter of complete indifference, when it is not one of scorn, that their ears should be accus- tomed to words of adoration and love of Him, and that even the dreary wastes of heresy should echo with the name of Jesus. . . . This work of Mr. Moody's is not sin. It cannot be sin to invite men to love and serve Jesus Christ." And in a similar spirit to that just cited, the Jewish Messenger, referring to the meetings contemplated to be held by these evangelists, in the vast hippodrome, New York city, expressed it as its opinion that, whatever objection might be urged to emotional religion as spasmodic, lacking in substantial good, no man of sense could declaim against such services, if conducted in the same orderly and earnest way that had characterized the meetings else- where. In the same vein was the utter- ance of a distinguished preacher in Brooklyn, N. Y., — one representing the extreme wing of the ' liberal ' school, — who declared, in a sermon, that, if Moody and Sankey could reach the masses of the people, " they would jjer- form a work for which all lovers of man- kind would be grateful." That this hope 30 was largely realized, in the case of Brooklyn itself, is well known. One of the events in Mr. Moody's career which peculiarly conspired to awaken pop- ular enthusiasm in behalf of him and his cause, on this side of the Atlantic, was the account, which preceded his arrival in America by some weeks, of the extraordi- nary occasion attending the close of the evangelists' wonderful labors in London, and which, on being read by their friends in this country, seemed like a prophecy of great things in store for their native land, when their homeward voyage should be accomplished. It appeared, according to the account of the meeting referred to— the last of the immense gatherings of this kind in that metropolis — that, for some days prior to its taking place, the anxiety of the people to obtain admission to the hall amounted almost to a frenzj', and not altogether a harmless one. Numbers were waiting for admission as early as three o'clock in the morning, or hours before the opening, — all the approaches were crowded with surging throngs, some of whom had come from great distances, — and, all around, dense masses of men, women, and children, were present, worked up to the highest point of interest and expectation. Mr. Moody found entrance through a pri- vate house adjoining, and with the help of a ladder. Meetings were held outside, but nothing less than seeing and hearing Mr. Moody would satisfy the densely packed multitude. Among the great dignitaries present were the Queen of the Netherlands and the Duchess of Sutherland. The last words of the evangelist ware very impres- sive, as indeed, was the whole scene of this most memorable occasion, and his sen- timents, as then and there uttered — rapid, spontaneous, gushing, — may be said to fitly represent the preacher's character and jjower. ■' It is," he said, " the last time I shall have the unspeakable privilege of preaching the gospel in England. I have never enjoyed preaching so much as I have in this country." " Have another week," shouted a man. " I want to have you all saved t(Miight," said Mr. Moody, looking 466 GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. Ki;vi\ ^L MEETING IN IIKOUKLVN, CONDOCTED BV MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEV. toward the speaker. " If I were to stay another week, I could tell you no more. I have not told you a hundredth part of the story, but I have done the best I can with this stammering tongue. I don't want to close this meeting until I see you safe behind the walls of the city of refuge. During the past thirty days I have been preaching here, I have tried to allure j-ou away to that world of light. I have told you of hell to warn you, and I have told you of the love of God. To-night I have been trying to illustrate salvation. You can receive Christ and be saved, or reject him and be lost. By-and-by there will be a glorious future, and I want to know how many there are willing to join me for eternity. How many will stand up here before God and man, and say, by that act, you will join me for heaven ? Those who are willing to do so to-night, will you just rise ? '"' Multitudes rose to their feet. Of this remarkable European tour of the evangelists, one of them afterwards said, " I remember when we left home, not knowing what was before us. We landed in Liverpool, and found the friends who invited us over both dead. We were strangers, but God led us ; His Spirit directed us up to a dead town, where we held a prayer-meeting, at which, at first, there were hut four 2}ersons 2}resent. After- ward more came. People thought we were two Americans with sinister designs. The meetings, however, increased in interest and power, and then the work began." In due time, after returning to this countrj', the evangelists commenced their public labors, selecting Brooklyn, N. Y., as their first field. No church edifice, however, in that city, having the seating capacity to accommodate the throng of people who desired to listen to Mr. Moody's powerful exhortations and Mr. Sankey'a GKEAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 467 singing, the large structure known as the rink, on Clermont avenue, was fitted up for this purpose. It accommodated five thousand persons. The interior of this vast building, as viewed from the platform, a large semi-circular dais, was in the high- est degree inspiring. Mr. Moody's posi- tion, when speaking, was at the center of this platform, in front; on his left were seats for visiting clergj'men; on his right, in front, was Mr. Sankey's position, at a small organ, on which he played the ac- companiment to his admirable rendering of the hymns which formed such a marked and helpful feature of these services. It was in this rink, that, day after day and night after night, for successive weeks, dense throngs assembled, and discourse, song, and prayer united to bring thousands of hearts to religious consecration. Out- door meetings, as well as meetings in the neighboring churches, were also held daily, with the most beneficial results, the pastors joining heartily in the work, — and, in fact, all over the land, the stimulus to renewed zeal and activity in spiritual things, received from this source, was most decided. Commencing in Brooklyn, October 24th, and continuing some weeks, only a brief interval elapsed before the revivalists com- menced their labors in Philadelphia, namely, on Sunday morning, November 21st, the meetings being held in the old freight depot, at Thirteenth and Market streets, which had been fitted up for this use. The inclemency of the weather did not prevent the assembling of at least ten thousand' persons at the opening services, including hundreds of prominent persons. Indeed, long before the hour of opening, the streets leading to the building were alive with people of every age and condi- tion, and of both sexes ; thousands came by the various lines of passenger railway running by or near the spot, and other thousands wended their way thither on foot, many of them coming weary dis- tances. Within the building, the sight of such a vast sea of humanity — now eager to catch the earnest words of the speaker, and, again, with heads bowed in solemn prayer — was most impressive ; nor was it less so, when, under Mr. Sankey's in- spiring leadership, the joyous multitude united in singing those sweet and favorite songs, "Hold the Fort," "The Ninety and Nine," " Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by,' etc. The interest and enthusiasm in these meetings continued without abatement for consecutive weeks, not the least interested among the attendants, during one of the December sessions, being President Grant, with members of his cabinet. New York city was the next field of labor chosen by the evangelists, the hippo- drome being chosen by the Young Men's Christian Association of that city, for the meetings, the opening one taking place February 4, 1876. Both halls, the larger containing seven thousand persons, and the smaller, containing four thousand were filled, and several thousand persons more stood outside. Distinguished preach- ers occupied the platform ; a choir of twelve hundred voices conducted the sing- ing; Mr. Moody preached with great power; and the spectacle altogether was truly sublime. Mr. Sankey carried all hearts with him while he sang "Hold the Fort," the people joining in the chorus. There was not only no diminution in enthusiasm or attendance while the meet- ings were in jiirogress, but rain and storm offered no obstacle to the pressing throngs. Mr. Moody gained favor constantly by the judicious judgment which he showed in his management both of the people and himself ; and when, on one occasion, he said, " I want no false excitement," the expressions of approval were unmistaka- ble. On Sunday, February 13th, the en tire attendance was estimated to be fronj twenty to twenty-five thousand ; even as early as eight o'clock, A. M., at a special meeting for Christians, the admission being by ticket, over four thousand per- sons were present; at three o'clock, p. m., a meeting specially for women was at- tended by more than six thousand of them ; and in the evening, when men alone were admitted, the audience numbered some ten 468 GREAT AWAIiENING IN THE EELIGIOUS \\'ORLD. thousand. At all these services the order was perfect, and all hearts seemed in accord. Though a Eoman Catholic, Dom PeJio, emperor of Brazil, being in the city on his American tour, during the holding of the meetings, became an audi- tor, and was not only deeply moved bj such a vast and unusual spectacle, but expressed his admiration of Mr. Moody's fervid preaching and Mr. Sankey's beauti- ful songs. The New York meetings were succeeded by visits from the evangelists to the south and west, with the most benefi- cial results. LTir. POLITICAL DEBATE BETWEEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS, IN ILLINOIS.— 1858. Cause of this Remarkable Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts of the Land. — ^the Heart of Every American Citizen Enlisted in the Momentous Issue Involved. — Eminent Character of the Com- batants. — their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally Acknowledged. — the Discussions Attended by Friends and Foes. — Victory, Defeat, Life and Death. — Condition of the New Territories. — Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic Institutions : Slavery. — Mr. Douglas Advocates " Popu- lar Sovereignty." — " Prohibition" Urged by Mr. Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The Public Mind Divided. — Joint Debates Proposed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Ap- pearance and Style. — Plans, I'laces, Scenes. — Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroit- ness of the Disputants. — Immense Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated. — Mr. Douglas Re-elected Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas' Magnanimity. — The Olive Branch. — Shoulder to Shoulder as Unionists. — Sudden Decease of the Great Senator. ■ ? T^?iTd Lincoln as a kind, nmioble, •nd Intelligent ccnllemQn. a pood citizen, and an honorable opponcnt.**-.JllDaB DOUOLXS. ' Thu man who itumpi a Stale with Stepiien A. Uou^iaB, iind tni ct3 him, day after day, before the people, haa pot to lie no fool." U>lBAl-l£ tiaEELliy. T HE tremendous political excitement -nhich convulsed the nation in 1858, ^ growing out of the agitation of tlie slavery question, in its relation to the vast terri- tories of Kansas and Nebraska, found two of the most able and conspicuous men in the great west, and especially Illinois, pitted against each other in the discussion of that issue, — representing, respectively, the two prevailing political parties in pub- lic affairs, — and the interest created by this fact throughout that region, and, in- deed, from one end of the whole land to the other, was still farther heightened by those two gentlemen being not only candi- dates — the one of the democratic and the other of the anti-slavery party — for the senatorial seat of that State in the capitol at Washington, but their names were also looming up in the near presidential horizon of 1860. The question at issue was immense — permanent not transient — universal not local, STATE CAPITOL OF ILLINOIS. 470 DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. and the debate attracted profound atten- tion on the part of the people, whether democratic or free soil, from the Kennebec to the Rio Grande. Briefly stated, Mr. Douglas took the position in this contro- versy, that the vote of a majority of the man were closely scanned. Finally, after the true western style, a joint discussion, face to face, between Lincoln and Douglas, as the two great representative leaders, was proposed and agreed to, — seven public debates, one each at Ottawa, Freeport, DEli.4TK BETWEE.X LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. people of a territory should decide this as well as all other questions concerning their domestic or internal affairs, and this theory came to be known as that of " Popular Sovereignty." Mr. Lincoln, on the con- trary, urged in substance, the necessity of an organic enactment excluding slavery in any form, — this latter to be the condi- tion of its admission into the Union as a St.ate. Tlie public mind was divided, and the utterances and movements of every public Jonesboro', Charleston, Galesburg, Quincy, and Alton, — the seven oratorical tourna- ments being thus held in all quarters ut the state, from the extreme of one point of the compass to the extreme of the op- posite, and everywhere the different par- ties turned out to do honor to their cham- pions. Processions and cavalcades, bands of music and cannon-firing, made every day a day of excitement. But far greater was the excitement of such oratorical con- tests between two such skilled debaters, DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 471 before mixed audiences of friends and foes, to rejoice over every keen thrust at the adversary, and, again, to be cast down by each failure to " give back as good," or to jiarry the tlirust so aimed. In person, appearance, voice, gesture, and general platform style and imjiros- sion, nothingcould exceed the dissimilarity of these two speakers. Mr. Douglas possessed a natural build or frame and physique uncommonly attractive, — a pres- ence which would have gained for him access to the highest circles, however courtl}', in any land; a thick-set, finely- built, courageous man, with an air, as natural to him as his breath, of self-con- fidence that did not a little to inspire his supporters with hope. That he was every inch a man, no friend or foe ever ques- tioned. Eeady, forceful, animated, keen and trenchant, as well as playful, by turns, and thoroughly unartificial, he was one of the most admirable platform speakers that ever appeared before an American audi- ence, — his personal geniality, too, being so abounding, that, excepting in a polit- ical sense, no antagonism existed between him and his opponent. Mr. Lincoln's personal appearance was in unique contrast with that presented by Mr. Douglas. He stood about six feet and four inches high in his stockings ; long, lean, and wiry; in motion, he had a great deal of the elasticity and awkward- ness which indicated the rough training of his early life ; his face genial looking, with good humor lurking in every corner of its innumerable angles. As a speaker he was ready, precise, fluent, and his man- ner before a popular assembly was just as lie pleased to make it, being either superla- tively ludicrous, or very impressive. He employed but little gesticulation, but, when desiring to make a point, produced ft shrug of the shoulders, an elevation of his eyebrows, a depression of his mouth, and a general malformation of countenance so comicallj' awkward that it never failed to ' bring down the house.' His enuncia- tion was slow and emphatic, and his voice, though sharp and powerful, at times had a tendency to dwindle into a shrill and unpleasant sound. In this matter of voice and of commanding attitude, so as to af- fect the multitude, the odds were quite in favor of Mr. Douglas. The arrangements, places, etc., for the great debate, having, as already remarked, been perfected, the first discussion took place, August 21st, at Ottawa, in La Salle county, a strong republican district. The crowd in attendance was a large one, and about equally divided in political senti- ment — the enthusiasm of the democracy having brought out more than a due pro- portion, if anything, of that party, to hear and see their favorite leader, Douglas. His thrilling tones, his manly defiance to- wards the enemies of the party, assured his friends, if any assurance were wanting, that he was the same unconquered and unconquerable democrat that for twenty- five j'cars he had proved to be. Douglas opened the discussion and spoke one hour ; Lincoln followed, the time assigned him being an hour and a half, though he yielded a portion of it before the expira- tion of its limit. In this first debate, Mr. Douglas ar- raigned his opponent for the expression in a former speech of " a house divided against itself," etc., — referring to the slavery and anti-slavery sections of the country ; and Mr. Lincoln reiterated and defended his assertions on that subject. It was not until the second meeting, how- ever, and those held subsequently, that the debaters grappled with those profound constitutional questions and measures of administration which were so soon to con- vulse the whole land and cause it to stag- ger almost to the verge of destruction. But, as Mr. Lincoln's jiosition in relation to one or two points growing out of the former speech referred to had attracted great attention throughout the country, he availed himself of the opportunity of this preliminary meeting to reply to what he regarded as common misconceptions. 'Anything,' he said, ' that argues me into the idea of perfect social and political equality with the negro, is but a specious 472 DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. and fantastic arrangement of -words, by which a man can prove a liorse-chestnxit to be a chestnut horse. I will say here, while upon this subject, that I have no purpose, directly or indirectly, to interfere with the institution of slavery in the states where it now exists. I believe I have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so. I have no pur- pose to introduce political and social equality between the white and the black races. There is a physical difference be- tween the two, which, in my judgment, will probably forever forbid their living together upon a footing of perfect equal- ity, and inasmuch as it becomes a matter of necessity that there must be a differ- ence, I, as well as Judge Douglas, am in favor of the race to which I belong having the superior position. I have never said anything to the contrary, but I hold that, notwithstanding all this, there is no rea- son in the world w^hy the negro is not en- titled to all the natural rights enumerated in the Declaration of Independence — the right to life, libert}', and the pursuits of happiness. I hold that he is as much en- titled to these as the white man. I agree with Judge Douglas he is not my equal in many respects — certainly not in color, perhaps not in moral or intellectual en- dowment. But, in the right to eat the bread, without the leave of any one else, which his own hand earns, he is my equal, and the equal of Judge Douglas, and the equal of every living man.' Touching the question of respect or weight of opinion due to deliverances of the United States Supreme Court, — an element which entered largely into this national contest, — Mr. Lincoln said : ' This man sticks to a decision which for- bids the people of a territory from exclud- ing slavery, and he does so not because he says it is right in itself — he does not give any opinion on that, — but because it has been decided by the court, and being de- cided by the court, he is, and you are bound to take it in your political action as law ; not that he judges at all of its merits, but because a decision of the court is to him a ' Thus saith the Lord.' He places it on that ground alone, and you will bear in mind that, thus committing himself unreservedly to this decision, com- mits him to the next one just as firmly as to this. He did not commit himself on account of the merit or demerit of the de- cision, but it is a ' Thus saith the Lord.' The next decision, as much as this, will be a ' Thus saith the Lord.' There is nothing that can divert or turn him away from this decision. It is nothing that I point out to him that his great prototype, Gen Jackson, did not believe in the binding force of deci>ions, — it is nothing to him that Jefferson did not so be- lieve. I have said that I have often heard him approve of Jackson's course in disre- garding the decision of the Supreme Court pronouncing a National Bank unconstitu- tional. He says I did not hear him say so; he denies the accuracy of my recollec- tion. I say he ought to know better than I, but I will make no question about this thing, though it still seems to me that I heard him say it twenty times. I will tell him though, that he now claims to stand on the Cincinnati platform, which affirms that Congress canvot charter a National Bank, in the teeth of that old standing decision that Congress can char- ter a bank. And I remind him of another piece of history on the question of respect for judicial decisions, and it is a piece of Illinois history belonging to a time when the large party to which Judge Douglas be- longed were displeased with a decision of the Supreme Court of Illinois, because they had decided that a Governor could not remove a Secretary of State. I know that Judge Douglas will not deny that he was then in favor of overslaughing that decision by the mode of adding five new- judges, so as to vote down the four old ones. Not only so, but it ended in the Judge's sitting down on that very bench as one of the five new judges to break down the four old ones'. In this strain Mr. Lincoln occupied most of his time. But, if the opponents of Judge Douglas wtre elated at the animated effort put DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 473 forth by his rival, at Ottawa, the debate which followed at Freeport gave ample op- portunity for the Judge to exhibit his great intellectual prowess, nor did he fail to improve it. At this meeting, Mr. Lincoln pro- pounded certain questions, and to these prompt and vigorous response was made. ' He desires to know, If the people of Kansas shall form a Constitution by means entirely proper and unobjectionable, and ask admission into the Union as a state before they have the requisite popu- lation for a member of Congress, whether I will vote for that admission ? Well, now, I regret exceeding!}' that he did not answer that interrogatory himself before he put it to me, in order that we might understand, and not be left to infer, on which side he is. Mr. Trumbull, during the last session of Congress, voted from the beginning to the end against the ad- mission of Oregon, although a free state, because she had not the requisite popula- tion for a member of Congress. Mr. Trumbull would not, under .any circum- stances, consent to let a state, free or slave, come into the Union until it had the requisite population. As Mr. Trum- bull is in the field fighting for Mr. Lin- coln, I would like to have Mr. Lincoln answer his own question, and tell me whether he is fighting Trumbull on that issue or not. But I will answer his ques- tion. In reference to Kansas, it is my opinion that, as she has population enough to constitute a slave state, she has people enough for a free state. I will not make Kansas an exceptional case to the other states of the Union. I hold it to be a sound rule, of universal application, to re- quire a territory to contain the requisite population for a member of Congress be- fore it is admitted as a state into the Union. I made that proposition in the Senate in 1856, and I renewed it during the last session, in a bill providing that no territory of the United States should form a Constitution and apply for admission until it had the requisite population. On another occasion, I proposed that neither Kansas, nor any other territory, should be admitted until it had the requisite popula- tion. Congress did not adopt any of my propositions containing this general rule, but did make an exception of Kansas. I will stand by that exception. Either Kansas must come in as a free state, with whatever population she may have, or the rule must be applied to all the other ter- ritories alike.' Mr. Douglas next proceeded to answer another question proposed by Mr. Lincoln, namely. Whether the people of a territory can in any lawful way, against the wishes of any citizen of the United States, ex- clude slavery from their limits prior to the formation of a state Constitution. Said Mr. Douglas : ' I answer emphatically, as Mr. Lincoln has heard me answer a hundred times from every stump in Illi- nois, that in my opinion the people of a territory can, by lawful means, exclude slavery from their limits prior to the forma- tion of a state Constitution. .Mr. Lincoln knew that I had answered that question over and over again. He heard me argue the Nebraska Bill on that principle all over the state in 1854, in 1855, and in 1856, and he has no excuse for pretending to be in doubt as to my position on that question. It matters not what way the Supreme Court may hereafter decide as to the ab- stract question whether slavery may or may not go into a territory under the Con- stitution, the people have the lawful means to introduce it or exclude it as they please, for the reason that slavery cannot exist a day or an hour unless it is supported by local police regulations Those police regulations can only be established by tho local legislature, and if the people are op- posed to slavery they will elect representa- tives to that body who will, by unfriendly legislation, effectually prevent the intro- duction of it into their midst. If, on the contrary, they are for it, their legislation will favor its extension. Hence, no mat- ter what the decision of the Supreme Court may be on that abstract question, still the right of the people to make a slave terri- tory or a free territory is perfect and com- 474 DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN" AND DOUGLAS. plete under the Nebraska Bill.' This right or freedom of the people thus to act, and which Mr. Douglas so strenuously ad- vocated, was commonly termed ' Popular Sovereigntj',' and, as one of the battle- cries in the great contests, was most ef- fectively used. One of the most interesting features of this memorable debate, covering as it did ahnost the whole issue involved in the canvass, consisted of the following inter- rogatories propounded by Mr. Douglas, and Mr Lincoln's replies: — Mr. Douglas : I desire to know whether Lincoln to-day stands, as he did in 1854, in favor of the unconditional repeal of the Fugitive Slave law ? Mr. Lincoln : I do not now, nor ever did, stand in favor of the unconditional repeal of the Fugitive Slave law. Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer whether he stands pledged to-day, as he did in 1854, against the admission of any more slave states into the Union, even if the people want them ? Jlr. Lincoln : I do not now, or ever did, stand pledged against the admission of any more slave states into the Union. Mr. Douglas : I want to know whether he stands pledged against the admission of a new state into the Union with such a Constitution as the people of that state may see fit to make ? Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand pledged against the admission of a new state into the Union, with such a Constitution as the people of that state may see fit to make. Mr. Douglas: I want to know whether he stands to-day pledged to the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia ? Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand to-day pledged to the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia. Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer whether he stands pledged to the proliibi- tion of the slave-trade between the differ- ent states ? Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand pledged to the prohibition of the slave-trade be- tween the different states. Mr. Douglas : I desire to know whether he stands pledged to prohibit slavery in all the territories of the United States, North as well as South of the Missouri Compromise line ? Mr. Lincoln : I am impliedly, if not expressly, pledged to a belief in the riglii and Jutij of Congress to prohibit slavery in all the United States territories. Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer whether he is opposed to the acquisition of any new territory unless slavery is first prohibited therein ? Mr. Lincoln : I am not generally op- posed to honest acquisition of territory ; and, in any given case, I would or would not oppose such acquisition, according as I might think such acquisition would or would not aggravate the slavery question among ourselves. It was with great vigor and adroitness that the two distinguished combatants went over the ground covered by the above questions, at the remaining five places of debate, all of which were attended and listened to by immense concourses. On both sides the speeches were able, elo- quent, exhaustive. It was admitted by Lincoln's friends, that, on several occa- sions, he was partly foiled or, at least, badly bothered, while, on the other hand, DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 475 Douglas' admirers allowed that, in more than one instance, he was flatlj" and fairly floored by Lincoln's logic, wit, good hu- mor and frankness. Douglas, while more brusque and resolute, was also rather the superior of the two in a certain force, direct- ness and determination, that greatly helped his side. But it was, altogether, about an equal match in respect to the ability di.s- played by these foremost champions. Both of them were self-made men ; both of them able lawyers and politicians ; both sprang from obscurity to distinction ; both belonged to the common people ; and both were strong and popular with the masses. The portrait which we give of Mr. Doug- las (Mr. Lincoln's will be found in another part of this volume) represents him at this victorious stage in his career. As for the result, Lincoln took more of the popular vote than Douglas, but the latter secured a majority in the legislature, — sufficient to insure his re-election to the United States senate, and this majority would probably have been greater, but for the hostility towards him of a certain por- tion of his own party, who favored a more thorough southern or pro-slavery policy than Douglas would consent to. In May, 1860, the Eepublican Nomi- nating Convention met at Chicago, 111., and after successive ballots, Mr. Lincoln was chosen standard-bearer of the party in the presidential contest. His election followed in November ensuing. Mr. Douglas failed of a nomination at the Democratic conven- tion. Secession raised its gory front. Forgetting past differences, Douglas mag- nanimously stood shoulder to shoulder with Lincoln in lieh.alf of the Union. It was the olive branch of genuine patriotism. But, while proudly holding aloft the ban- ner of his country in the councils of the nation, and while yet the blood of his countrymen had not drenched the land, the great senator was suddenly stricken from among the living, in the hour of the republic's greatest need. LYIII. PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA.— 1859. Discovery of Prodigious Quantities of IlluminBting Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innu- merable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires — The Supply of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Kxportations of the Article. — Vast Source of National Wealth and Industry. — Revolution in Artificial Light — Ancient Knowledge of this Oil — Floating on Ponds and Creeks — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin. — Local- ity of the Springs — Great Value of the Oii — First Attempt at Boring. — Plans for Sinking Wells. — Their Exhaustless Yield — Intense Excitement Prevails — Eager Crowds at the Oil Region. — Buying and Leasing Lands. — Enterprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made — Other Side of the Pic- ture. — Towns and Cities Built — Fire: Awful Scenes and Losses — Bringing the Oil into Market. — Its Cheapness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. " The rock i>oufed me out rivers of oil."— Job. >^ICHER than the gold mines of California, in the qualities of <^r\ usefulness and convenience to the human race, are the oil wells which, so unexjjectedly to the country and the world, spouted forth their liquid treasures from the bowels of the earth, in the year 1859, and in such quantities as soon to revolutionize both the material and mode of artificial illumination, — bringing untold wealth into regions hitherto comparatively valueless, — creating, almost as if by magic, new, vast, and profitable industries, — and well-nigh realizing the wildest conceptions of sudden and golden fortune found in Arabian legends. But, even long prior to the year just named, the existence of this oleaginous substance was known at the head-waters of the Alleghany _ river in New York and Pennsylvania. A writer in the American Cyclopedia states that the Indians collected it on the shores of Seneca lake, and it was sold as a medicine by the name of Seneca or Genesee oil. A stream in Alleghany county, New York, was named Oil creek, in consequence of the appearance of oil in its banks ; and the same name was given to another branch of the Alleghany river in Venango county, Pennsylvania. Several localities are designated upon the old maps of this part of the country as affording oil ; and upon Oil creek in Venango county, two spots were particularly noted, one of which was close to the north line of the county, and one about twelve miles further down the stream. At these points, springs PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 477 issuoJ from the banks of the stream, bring- ing up more or less oil, which collected upon the surface of the water as it stood in the pools below the springs. The inhabitants were accustomed to collect the oil by spreading woolen cloths upoa the water, and wringing them when saturated. Down the valley of this creek there are numerous ancient pits which appear to have been excavated for the purpose of collecting oil, but by whom made no one can now tell. From the fact that logs have been found in them notched as if with an axe, some have supposed that the work was done by the French, who occupied this region in the early part of the last century ; but others believe that the Indians, who are known to have valued the oil, dug the pits. Day, in his historj' of Pennsylvania, gives an account of the estimation in which they held this product, using it mixed with paint to anoint themselves for war, and also employing it in their religious rites. He quotes an interesting letter from the commander of Fort Duquesne to General Montcalm, describing an assembly of the Indians by night on the banks of the creek, and in the midst of the ceremonies their firing the scum of oil that had collected upon the surface of the water. As the flames burst forth, illuminating the dark valley, there rose from the Indians around triumphant shouts that made the hills re-echo again. As early as 1826, the knowledge that such a natural illuminating substance ex- isted on the Little Muskingum river, in Ohio, was quite general, on account of its appearance in the wells that were bored in that region for the purpose of obtaining salt. In a communication to the American Journal of Science for the year 1826, by Doctor Hildreth, he says : They have sunk two wells, which are now more than four hundred feet in depth ; one of them affords a very strong and pure water, but not in great quanti ty. The other discharges such vast quantities of petroleum, or, as it is vulgarly called, ' Seneka oil,' and beside is subject to such tremendous explosions of gas as to force out all the water and afford nothing but gas for several days, that they make but little or no salt. Nevertheless, the petroleum affords considerable profit, and is beginning to be in demand for lamps in workshops and manufactories. It affords a brisk, clear light, when burnt in this way, and will be a valuable article for lighting the street-lamjjs in the future cities of Ohio. So useful was the product of the oil springs gradually found to be, that, in 1854, the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company was formed. It is said, by a writer thoroughly conversant with the subject, and from whose well-stored pamphlet, "The Petroleum Region of America," much of the information here given is drawn, that this was the first oil company ever formed, and was also prior to the sink- ing of any well, and before any such thing was suggested. Great quantities of the oil had, however, been collected during the year 1853, by absorbing it in blankets, and wringing it out, — a method originated by Dr. F. B. Brewer, of the eminent firm of Brewer, Watson & Co., so conspicuous in their efforts to develop the wonderful resources of the oil region. The Pennsyl- vania Rock Oil Company purchased one hundred acres of land on Oil Creek, below Titusville, for the purpose of collecting ths surface oil, but the project was in a short time abandoned. No important progress took place in the business until the winter of 1857, when Col. E. L. Drake, of Connecticut, arrived at Titusville, and he tva^ the first man who attempted to bore for oil. In December, 1857, he visited Titusville, examined the oil springs, and gave the subject of sur- face oil a thorough investigation. He soon concluded that rock oil could be ob- tained by sinking a well ; and acting upon this, he, in company with James M. Town- send and E. B. Bowditch, leased the lands of the Pennsylvania Eock Oil Company, for the term of twenty-five years, for the purpose of boring for oil. The operations were to commence the following spring. Soon after closing this lease. Colonel Drake and friends from Connecticut formed 478 PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. «, company called tlie Seneca Oil Company, for the purpose of working the lands and sinking wells, under the management and control of Colonel Drake. Early in the spring he removed his family to Titusville, then containing not over one hundred and fifty inhabitants. He first informed him- self thoroughly on the subject of boring, and visited the salt-wells on the Alleghany river for that purpose, where, after some difiScult^y, he emploj'ed a man who agreed to sink wells for the Seneca companj-; but he and others to whom he had applied failed to keep their engagements, and it was not until the following spring, that he could obtain a suitable person to commence the well. lying along the valley of Oil Creek and its tributaries in Venango, Warren, and Crawford counties. The Drake well — the first ever sunk for oil, and the first petro- leum ever obtained by boring — was Imme- diately thronged with visitors, and within two or three weeks thousands began to pour in from the neighboring states. Everybody was eager to purchase or lease oil-lands at any price demanded. Almost in a night, a wilderness of derricks sprang up and covered the entire bottom lands of Oil Creek. Merchants abandoned their storehouses, farmers dropped their ploughs, lawyers deserted their offices, and preach- ers their pulpits. The entire western part of the st;ite. in especial, became so PETROLEUM WELLS IN' lENNSVLVANIA. Boring through forty-seven feet of gravel and twenty-two feet of shale rocks, with occasional small apertures in it, he struck, on the twenty-ninth of August, 1859, at the depth of about seventy feet, a large opening, filled with coal oil, some- what mixed with water and gas. A small pump on hand brought up from four hundred to five hundred gallons of oil a day. An explosion soon blew it up. One of three times its size and power was put in its place, and during the first four days threw up five thousand gallons of oil— one thousand two hundred and fifty gallons per day, or one gallon per minute for twenty hours fifty minutes per day. And now commenced an intense excite- ment in all the oil-region of Pennsylvania, wild with excitement upon the subject, that scarcely anything else was thought of. Very soon after the success of Colonel Drake, Messrs. Brewer, Watson & Co. leased the farm of Hamilton M'Clintock, and commenced a well on it, which was successful at the depth of seventy feet ; then followed the sinking of many wells on the different farms on Oil Creek. The Barnsdell Mead and Rouse well was opened in the spring of 1860; then the Crosley well, in April of the same year. During this summer, many wells were opened in the vicinity of Tideoute on the Alleghany river. In June, 1861, A. B. Funk sunk a well four hundred and sev- enty feet deep, on the M'lllheny farm, which was the first large flowing well. Then followed the Brewer, Watson & Co. PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 479 well on the G. W. M'Clintock farm, the Phillips well on the Tarrfarm, the Willard well on the H. M'Clintock farm, and the Rouse, Mitchell, and Brown well on the Buchanan farm. This latter well flowed a stream of oil without pumping, equal to one thousand barrels per day. In every direction, new borings were undertaken, and new discoveries of flowing wells were made, almost dailj' ; while other regions of similar geological structure were carefully explored for evidence of their capacity for producing oil. Soon there were oil-wells, — either pumping or flowing, — yielding considerable quantities, in Western Vir- ginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Canada ; and, subsequentlj', discoveries were made of the existence of petroleum in large quantities in California and in some of the north- western states. At first, vast quantities of oil flowed into the creek and were wasted, before suit- able tanks could be prepared to receive it; but after a while, the flowing wells were fitted with strong tubing and stop-cocks, by means of which the supply was en- tirely controlled. As might well be expected, the owners of farms in the oil-regions believed that the fortune of almost unlimited wealth had now smiled upon them, and (says Eaton, in his exhaustive and invaluable work on the subject,) the price of lands throughout its whole extent, from the new well to the Alleghany, immediately rose to a very high figure. Sometimes entire farms were sold, but generally they were leased in quite small lots. The terms of lease were at first easy, the operators giving one-fourth or one-fifth of the oil as a royalty to the owner of the soil. Gradually, the terms became more exacting, until not unfre- quently one-half and even five-eighths of the oil was demanded, with the addition of a considerable sum of money as a bonus. Sometimes the proprietor of the soil re- quired the proposed operator to furnish him his share in barrels ; that is, not only turning him over a third or a half of the oil, but furnishing him the barrels to con- tain it. With this arrangement, it after- wards came about that, as the price of oil fell and the price of barrels advanced, the entire proceeds of some wells would hardly purchase barrels to contain the royalty share pertaining to the owner of the land. The leasing of land for oil purposes amounted, at one time, to a monopoly, in PKOCESS OF liOKIXG FOR PETKOLEUM. some sections of the oil valley. The land- holders in many places were men in very moderate circumstances. By great fru- gality, they had been able to live comfort- ably, but had no extra means with which to embark in speculations. Sometimes they had neither taste nor energy for this business, or lacked f.iith in the general result, but were willing that others should embark in the business by sharing the •iSU PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. profits with them. In this state of affairs, shrewd and enterprising men made a busi- ness, for a time, of leasing all the lands in certain localities, with no intention of oper- ating themselves, but with the design of sub-leasing to real operators. In the midst of the excitement occa- sioned by the prodigious success of the Rouse well, the gas and oil issuing there- from took fire from some unknown cause, and, as described by an unknown witness, columns of black smoke rolled upward into the air, the blazing oil leaped heavenward, and, falling over on all sides from the fiery jet, formed a magnificent fountain of liquid fire. The sight was awfully grand, but, sad to relate, invoL-ed a most melancholy loss of life, no less ,'han nineteen human beings meeting theii death in the flames. The scenes of terror and woe accompany- ing such a catastrophe can be better imag- ined than described. Among the victims of this destructive occurrence was Mr. Rouse, one of th3 proprietors of the well and a very prominent man in the oil region. Mr. Rouse lived for several daj's after being injured, and, in framing his will, after making certain bequests, left to the county of Warren a handsome sum — subsequently' reaching one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in value, — to be applied one-half for road purposes and one- half to the poor of the county. Other terrible scenes caused by the com- bustion of the oil and gas in the wells, — of natural or accidental origin, — though happily not involving loss of life, have occurred from time to time in the oil regions. The phenomenon of the " burn- ing well" has been often described as one of those grand and amazing exhibitions to be found only within the arena of nature's kingdom. Before approaching near enough to see the well, (says an eye witness,) the observer's ears were saluted with a roaring sound similar to that of the Geysers in Iceland, and seemingly due to the rush of gas from the depths below, or from the flame itself as it rises high in the air. The well was of course bored for oii. It had reached a depth of some five hundred feet, when the immense column of gas rushed up and became ignited from the furnace of the engine. Soon, of course, the derrick, engine-house, and fixtures were consumed, and the engine itself a wreck. An attempt was made to fill up the pit with earth and extinguish the flames. But this proved a failure, as the pressure of the gas was so great that it rushed through the loose earth in a thou- sand jets, the result being that a column of flame constantly emerged from the pit equal to its size — about eight feet square; this column rose to a height of from fifty to one hundred feet, varj-ing every few seconds from the minimum to the maxi- mum height. The pillar, rough and jagged in form, and sometimes divided, sent out its tongues of flame in every direction. As it reached its greatest height, the top of the flame leaped off and was extin- guished. This was the appearance in daylight. At night, the appearance was awfully grand and imposing. Every three or four seconds, a cloud of dark smoke rolled up with the flames, and, after b^ing swept to its very summit, disappeared. Some visitors computed the height at one hundred and fifty feet. The roaring sound was constant, and almost resembled that of distant thunder. For successive weeks, the well continued to burn, with no appar- ent diminution in its power, or in the quantity of gas. At one time, the phe- nomenon assumed a very strange appear- ance. The atmosphere was somewhat cloudj', and, in addition to the usual ruddy glow, the light appeared to concentrate itself into a bright lance-like figure, about four or five degrees in length, that re- mained stationary about midway between the horizon and the zenith, where it con- tinued all the evening. Immense destruc- tion of oil and other property, by fire, has, in fact, taken place in almost every part ot the petroleum region, from the very first, and in spite of every precaution. The next large flowing well that was opened was the Empire, in the vicinity of the Funk we'l, that flowed three thousand barrels of oil per day. The Sherman well PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 481 was opened in April, 1862, then the Noble and Delameter well in May, 1863. . This celebrated well was commenced in 1860, and was bored to the depth of one hun- dred and sixty-seven feet, and then aban- doned. Mr. Noble went further down the creek and became interested iu other wells on the Tarr farm, but in the spring of 1863 he re-commenced the work on his old well, and n'eut down to the depth of four hundred and seventy-one feet, without, however, any indications of oil. At that depth he concluded to tube and puiiip, abandoning the idea of obtaining a flowing well, — but, to the great astonishment of himself and every one else, after pumping a very short time, suddenly the great Noble well commenced to flow. Long before the opening of this well, petroleum bad become so plenty that most of the pumping wells were abandoned. Every person wanted a flowing well. The discovery of a method of refining the crude oil is said to be due to Mr. Samuel M. Kier, of Pittsburg. Mr.W. H. Abbott, of Titusville, erected the first large refin- ery at Titusville, which was before the days of railroads in that region. The heavy iron castings and machinery were brought in wagons from Union Mills and Franklin, through mud that was axle-deep. Parties interested with him became dis- heartened, and would have abandoned the enterprise had it not been for the energy of Mr. Abbott, who finally succeeded in completing his building. But the really great pioneers in the introduction of petro- leum in large quantities, were P>rewer, Watson & Co., whose enterprise was so determined and imtiring, that they ex- pended nearly eight hundred thousand dollars in cash for barrels alone, before they realized one cent of profit. All they required was the actual cost of the barrel. They however ultimately rea]5ed a rich harvest from their arduous efforts in this new field of business, and were handsomely repaid for the hardships and trials through which they had passed. During the sum- mer of 1861, Samuel Downer, of Boston, established a branch of his works and com- menced the refining of oil at Corry, giving his entire attention to the business, and during that year his refinery absorbed nearly all of the oil product. George M. Mowbray, agent for Scheifflin & Co., of New York, made the first extensive pur- chase of petroleum for shipment. Messrs. Drake, Watson, Brewer, Kier, Abbott, Jlowbray, Downer, the firm of Brewer, Watson & Co., and others, exerted their utmost endeavors to acquaint the public with the value of the article, and to create a demand equal to the supply ; but before this could be accomplished, oil at the wells was offered for sale at prices ranging from ten to fifty cents a barrel. In consequence of the abundant supply of the oil, its cheapness, and the continued small demand, the entire oil regions of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Ohio became, for a while, almost wholly deserted, and the then so-called " oil bubble " exploded. Most of those who had taken leases and had opened wells, now removed the tubing, sold their engines, tools, etc., and retired from the oil trade disgusted with their enterprise, and, no doubt, much displeased with themselves, returned to their deserted homes to be ridiculed bj^ the knowing ones, who "always said the undertaking would prove a failure." Much time, however, did not elapse before a new demand for petroleum was created, and once more thousands poured into the oil regions, and ultimately the use of petrolemn became almost universal, as a cheap and excellent cil for Inirning. So vast did the business now become, that, from the third of March, 1865, to the close of that year, the quantity of crude petro- leum produced in the Venango countj' region was 1,020,126 barrels; in western Virginia, 13,066; in Ohio, 10,676; in Kentucky, 2,405. The trade involved in this immense production became the most important business of several cities in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York, af- fording emploj-ment and support for tens of thousands of people. An immense export trade soon began, amounting, in 1863, to 252,000 tons' 482 PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IX PENNSYLVANIA. BURKINO OF ONE OF THE GREAT OIL WELL8. weight, or 28,000,000 gallons, valued at $12,000,000, and emijloying no less than 252 vessels of one thousand tons burden. Of course, many hitherto comparatively poor persons became millionaires all of a sudden, and of these, "some were wise and some foolish," in the use of their wealth. An illustration of the latter class was that of a widow, whose farm proved to be one of the earliest and best for the produc- tion of oil, in the whole county of Venango, several wells with products ranging from two hundred to twenty-five hundred bar- rels per day being struck at intervals, and the income in money from the territory proving almost fabulous in amount. The old lady did not live long to enjoy her good fortune, and, dying, left her great property, without any reservation, to her adopted son John, then about twenty years old. This youth, — like the hero of that well-known novel, " Half a Million of Money," who came suddenly into posses- sion of a like sum, — had not been taught to understand the value of dollars and cents ; and, unlike that character, he had no refined tastes, and threw his wealth away with the most lavish folly. Of course he rushed to New York ; and there, in only a year and a half, he squandered two millions of dollars. Presumably the most ingenious extravagance was neces- sary to accomplish this enormous result. "Johnny," as his associates called him, not only entered into every species of debauchery, not only lost a hundred thou- sand dollars in two nights at faro, but bought superb teams and gave them away after an hour's ownership, supported a swarm of human leeches of both sexes, and even equipped a negro-minstrel troupe, presenting each member with a costly dia- mond ring and pin. By-and-by, however, Johnny's brilliant career came to a close, and, oddly enough, he was glad at last to fill the position of door-keeper to the trav- eling minjtrel company which his own munificence had organized, — his farm on Oil Creek having been disposed of at public s.ile, for arrears due the government. Time and space would indeed fail to adequately record the doings of those sham PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 483 and reckless companies, which, availing themselves of the oleaginous fever and a credulous public, involved themselves and others in operations well-nigh ruinous. One of these companies selected a site in the woods, which had been "prospected" by one of their number and highly recom- mended (located about six miles from a railroad station laid down on the map, but not }'et built), and having organized, agreed to have the first of a series of pro- posed wells dug, not by contract, ns was usual, but by day's work. Having procured the necessary tools, including a compass for guidance in the woods, the work was duly proceeded with, and progress from time to time reported. Calls for the "sinews" were also made, and promptly met, until the well was said to be down over one hundred feet, with a good show for oil. This was about the time for the "Annual Meeting," and more money being called for, it was deemed advisable to have the well re-measured and reported on. Judge of the surprise of the stockholders when, to use the language of one of the patri- archs in oil, the force of the oil from be- low had shoved the hole np to eighty-six fi'et! Here was a stunner; and, as the well had already cost a good round sum, and the resources of the company were limited, matters continued to remain in statu quo. The most plausible plan for getting out of the difficulty was that which proposed to have the balance of the hole taken up and cut into lengths for pump logs ! — a fair hit at many of the chimerical oil projects of that day. Various opinions are entertained as to the origin and source of this remarkable substance. According to Professor Silli- man, it is of vegetable origin, and was pro- duced by the agency of subterranean heat. Professor Dana says that it is a bitumin- ous liquid resulting from the decomposi- tion of marine or land plants, mainly the latter, and perhaps, also, of some non-nitro- genous animal tissues. By many, it is supposed to be a product of coal ; some supposing that the coal, being subjected to the enormous pressure of the overlying beds, has 3-ielded oil, as a linseed cake under an hydraulic press. The theory has even been advanced, that the coal, heated (as it evidently has been in the coal regions of eastern Pennsylvania), gave off oily vapors which, rising to the cold region of the upper air, condensed, and subsequently fell in oily showers, making its way as best it could to the hollows of the earth's interior, where now it is found by the oil- borer. An extensive survey and examination of the coal region by Mr. Ridgeway, an emi- nent geologist, convinced him that the petroleum was not produced from the coal fields, as in that ease it would have had to flow up-hill into the oil basin; it is, rather, the result of the decomposition of marine plants, in the Oil Creek valley, though that found in bituminous coal basins, orig- inates, no doubt, from beds of coal. Ac- cording to this theory, the plants which produced the oil in the rock existed and flourished at a long period of time before the vegetation which now forms coal beds ; they are unlike the vegetable impressions found in the accompanying shales and clays associated with beds of coal, and they grew where the flag-stones and shales of Oil Creek were laid down by salt water currents. The climate was so hot, during this age of marine vegetation, and the growth of plants so rapid and rank, caused by the supposed large amount of carbonic acid and hydrogen then composing the atmosphere, that these conditions on the face of the earth produced plants contain- ing more hydrogen and less carbon than the plants which produced coal beds, and hence their fermentation resulted in jsetro- leum. But the theory that the oil was pro- duced at the time of the original bitumin- ization of the animal or vegetable matter, has many difficulties in its way, especially the fact that such large quantities of inflammable gas always accompany the oil. That the oil is a product, not of coal, but of coral, is the opinion of some ; and thus, stored away in cells, forming, in the ag- gregate, immense reefs, as it was collected 484 PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVAJSIA- from the impure waters of the earJy oceans by minute coral insects, it has been driven by heat and pressure into reservoirs and crevices, where man's ingenuity at last discovered it. Of the uses of petroleum, much might be said. Unrivaled and universal for illu- mination, it is also valuable as a lubricar tor, and, in some of its chemically prepared states, is employed as a dryer ir pain*^8 and varnishes. For fuel and gas its util- ity has been amply proved. Medically, it has been found efficacious in suppurating wounds, also in headache, toothache, swell- ings, rheumatism, dislocations, and as a disinfectant. And even as a base in the production of colors, some of the most gratifying results have followed the chem- ist's experiments with this wonderful aj.- ticle. LIX. GKAND EMBASSY FROM THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN, WITH A TREATY OF PEACE AND COMMERCE, TO THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.— 1860. First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land— Their Official Reception by President Buchanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities— Public Interest Excited by this Extraordinary Mission. — Their Oriental Costume, Manners, Ceremonies, etc.— Japanese Distinc- tion Shown to Americans. — Character of the Embassy. — Headed by Eminent Princes. — Numerous and Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington.- Procession to the Hotel.— Most Curious Spectacle —How the Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the White House. — Salutations and Speeches — Impressive International Scene — Japanese Diplomacy. — Delivering the Tycoon's Letter. — Personal Appearance of the Ambassadors. — President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — " Tommy," the Ladies' Pet. — Gallantry to Miss Lane. — The Embassy at the Navy Yard. — Astonishment Expressed by Them. — Adieu to the President — America's Message to the Emperor. ** Henceforth, the intercourne of frit-ndflhip shall be held hetween hoth ountrles, and benevolent fecllDgs ehall be cultivated more and more, and never altered."— LErTKK of tub Tycoo."* to the l*BB»ibENT. OJSTTRARY to all precedent in the history of Japan, and its dealings with the family of na/- tions, the rulers of that country sent an official embassy to the government of the United States, in the spring of 1860, charged with the duty of presenting for final ratification a treaty of amity and commerce between the two nations, — such as had never be- fore been made by the Japanese court with any other peojale, — and to express to the president the emperor's profound respect for him, and for the great republic of which he was the elected chief. It was justly regarded as something flattering to the national pride of Americans, that this country should be the first to receive the distinction of an embassy from that ancient and almost unknown people, and that a republican government of the freest form should have been selected for such an honor by a nation barred in by the prejudice of centuries against all but the most despotic rule; and the curiosity which everywhere prevailed to behold men from a region so distant, so long shut out from the rest of the JAPANESE BOX CONTAINING THE TREATY. 486 GRAND EMBASSY FROM JAPAN. world, and now, for the first time, not only admitting the visits of other nations, but themselves undertaking along and fatigu- ing voyage to visit strangers in the utter- most end of the earth, was certainly natural. The embassy consisted of two princiiaal ambassadors, princes of the highest rank among the nobility of the empire, and two associates, — nobles of nearly equal rank. These four were of the emperor's council, and were accompanied by a suite of sixteen officers, together with fifty-three servants. Arriving at Honolulu, in the United States ship Powhatan, Commodore Tat- nall, from Japan, thej' proceeded thence to San Francisco, where they arrived March 27, 1860, in good health and spirits. A grand public ) e(;eption was given them by the city, the chief dignitaries of the em- bassy being loagnificently dressed in em- broidered s'ik robes, and each wore a sword of beautiful workmanship. In due time, the embassy reached Wash- ington, the capital of the nation, and the special place of their official destination. Here they were amply and elegantly ac- commodated at Willard's Hotel, many of the apartments being newly furnished for the occasion. A fine military and naval detachment performed escort duty, as, in regular procession, the high officials and their numerous retinue moved from the wharf to the hotel. The Nourimon, a black lacquered frame, square in shape, and in size and roof very much resembling a dog-kennel, in which was fixed the treaty box, hidden from the public eye by a loose cover of red oil-cloth, preceded the first ambassador, in the line of procession, and was borne by two of the men belonging to the navy yard. General Cass, secretary of state, received the embassy on Wednesday, May 17th, ^nd made a short speech of welcome. The next day was appointed for the grand cer- emonial of their presentation to the presi- dent of the United States, at the executive mansion. The accounts given in the Washington newspapers, of this memorable proceeding, state that long before the time indicated for the passage of the procession from the quarters of the embassy to the president's house, the neighborhood was filled with a dense multitude, intent on witnessing a spectacle so unjirecedented. The United States marines, ordnance guards, and ma- rine baud, were in attendance to do the honors of escort. True to the time they had appointed, the Japanese officials com- menced leaving their hotel at half-past eleven o'clock, and as soon as they were seated in the carriages drawn up to convey them, the procession moved forward to the presidential mansion. Each carriage bore an officer of the embassy in full ceremo- nial costume, and, between every two car- riages, from two to four Japanese guards, armed with swords, not di-awn, marched on foot, one of them carrying aloft a small ensign in Japanese fashion, on a pole about twelve feet high. Occupying the first carriage, was an officer arrayed in a loose slate-colored gown of state, of a general form like the pulpit gown worn by the Ejiiscopal clergy, with huge sleeves stiffly extending right and left, the texture having a brocade-like appearance. The lower dress consisted of a pair of trousers, very wide and full, and of the same material. On the crown of the head, immediately over the tonsure, extending from the forehead to the crown, was worn an ornament, shaped like a band of three or four inches wide and eighteen inches long, bent in the middle, and the ends tied, but not close together. Nearly all the ambassadors wore this distinction, but in some the bend stood forward, in others backward. After the official in the slate-colored dress, came one in a rich green brocade ; next one in light green ; then one in yel- low ; next a dark slate, and another in yellow or orange, a third in green, and two riding with Mr. Portman, the interpreter, both arrayed in blue. One little official, in a skirt richly embroidered with pink and gold, attracted considerable attention. On arriving at the doorway of the exec- utive mansion, the Japanese guards took the advance and distributed themselves in GRAND EMBASSY PROM JAPAN. 487 488 GRAND EMBASSY FROM JAPAN. a double line, between which the ambassa- dors and superior officers passed into the interior of the building. Here they re- mained about ten minutes, until the cen- tral folding-doors of the great East room were thrown open, when the oriental strangers found themselves in the presence of a brilliant throng of ladies and gentle- men, the latter comprising the president and his cabinet officers, senators, members of the house of representatives, and officers of the army and navy, all in full dress, and the whole scene being most striking and impressive. After every arrangement had been con- summated for the august interview, the Japanese princes charged with the custody of the treaty, after advancing a few paces, bowed reverentially ; then took a few more steps, and bowed again, with rigid formal- ity ; and, having bowed once more as they approached the president, they then stood fast. The caps, or ornaments, which they wore upon their heads, they retained throughout the ceremonies. The ambas- sador in chief, who stood in the center, now read from a paper which he held in his hand, his speech, or official address, to the president. It was read with rather a strong nasal intonation, indicating earnest- ness rather than eloquence. This speech was interpreted as follows : "His majesty, the Tycoon, has com- manded us that we respectfully express to his majesty the President of the United States, in his name as follows : Desiring to establish on a firm and lasting founda- tion the relations of peace and commerce so happily existing between the two coun- tries that lately the plenipotentiaries of both countries have negotiated and con- cluded a treaty, he has now ordered us to exchange the ratification of the treaty in your principal city of Washington. Hence- forth the friendly relations shall be held more and more lasting; and he is very happy to have your friendly feeling, and pleased that you have brought us to the United States, and will send us to Japan, in your men-of-war." When the ambassador concluded this address, a square red sort of box or bundle was, with some delay, unfolded, and its contents presented ceremoniously' and with an official air to the president, containing a letter to the latter from the Tycoon, or chief magistrate of Japan, and which the president immediately handed to Mr. Cass, secretary of state, who stood on his left hand. Having done this, the ambassador re- tired, explaining that it would not comport with the etiquette of his country that he should be present while the letter was read, and that he must report the delivery of the letter to " the commissioner," — an officer who remained at the door, outside. After a short delay, the princes, again entering as at first, and having, as they advanced, stopped three times to bow themselves, presented to the president their letters of credence, which were in like manner passed over to the secretary of state. The president now commenced to read, in a very distinct and audible voice, his official address to the ambassadors, in the words following : " I give you a cordial welcome as repre- sentatives of his imperial majesty, the Tycoon of Japan, to the American gov- ernment. We are all much gratified that the first embassy which your great empire has ever accredited to any foreign power has been sent to the United States. I trust that this will be the harbinger of perpetual peace and friendship between the two countries. The ratifications you are about to exchange with the secretary of state cannot fail to be productive of benefits and blessings to the people of both Japan and the United States. I can say for myself, and promise for my successors, that it shall be carried into execution in a faithful and friendly spirit, so as to secure to the countries all the advantages they may justly expect from the happy auspices under which it has been negotiated and ratified. I rejoice that j-ou are pleased with the kind treatment which you have received on board of our vessels of war whilst on your passage to this country. You shall be sent back in the same manner to your geajS^d embassy from japan. 489 native land, under the protection of the ] American flag. Meanwhile, during your residence amongst us, which I hope may be pro- longed so as to enable you to visit different portions of our country, we shall be happy to extend to you all the hospitality and kindness eminently due to the great and friendly sovereign whom you so worthily represent " The tone and language of the president seemed to be listened to by his bowing auditors with great satisfaction, and espe- cially the promise that the embassy should be returned to Japan at the expense of the United States government, and under the protection of the American flag. The princes retired, as before, to report what had been done and said, to " the commissioner ; " but soon returned, and were then introduced successively to each member of the cabinet, who all shook hands with them. Next came General Scott, who made them one of his most gra- cious bows, hut before whose imposing stature the ambassadors seemed almost extinguished. The vice-president of the United States was then called for, but was not in presence. The speaker of the house of representatives was next sum- moned, and, with difficulty, and not a little delay, oared his way through the sea of ladies' bonnets and officers' epaidettes which tossed and billowed between him and the high place of honor. Finally, under the surveillance of Captain Dupont, the illustrious strangers, after a profound adieu to the president, which he returned with a bow as low, retired from the East room, and made their way through ranks of their kneeling subordinates to another room, where they prepared for their re- turn to their quarters. The following is a translation of the letter of the Ty-coon to the president, which was delivered by the ambassadors : " To His Majesty the President of the United States of America, I express with respect: Lately the governor of Simoda Insooye Sinano No-Kami and the Metske Iwasi Hego No-Kami had negotiated and decided with Townsend Harris, the minis- ter plenipotentiary of your country, an affair of amity and commerce, and con- cluded previously the treaty in the city of Yeddo. And now the ratification of the treaty is sent with the commissioner of foreign affairs, Simmi Boojsen No-Kami and Mooragaki Awajsi No-Kami, to ex- change the mutual treaty. It proceeds from a particular importance of affairs and a perfectly amicable feeling. Hence- forth, the intercourse of friendship shall be held between both countries, and benev- olent feelings shall be cultivated more and more, and never altered. Because the now deputed three subjects are those wdiom I have chosen and confided in for the present post, I desire you to grant them your consideration, charity, and respect. Herewith I desire you to spread my sincere wish for friendly relations, and also I have the honor to congratulate you on the security and welfare of your country." The first ambassador was a man of small frame, with a stoop across the shoul- ders ; he was about five feet five in height, and thirty-five in years, had a long face and a peculiar nose — being too thin to be called Jewish, and too even to be styled Eoman. The second ambassador looked twenty years older than the first. The countenance of the first indicated dignity beyond all affectation, and the highest refinement. The others were of less dis- tinguished mien, but all possessed an agreeable expression. They were all thick-skinned and dark in complexion, the general color being that of a bamboo w.ilking-cane. The hair was shaved from all parts of the head excepting the sides and back, from which it was gathered in long bands to the crown, and there fast- ened with a white string, leaving a lock three or four inches long, stiffened with oil, and brought forward to the forehead. They wore silk or crape undercoats, of various hues, looser robes of the same material, and mostly blue, being thrown and folded over them. In their belts of crape, they wore two swords, one short (the barrikarri sword, which no plebian 49U GEAND EMBASSY UKOM JAPAN. can make use of), the other longer. These weapons are of a finer steel than is else- where made, and were borne in neatlj'- wrousrht scabbards of thick skin, inlaid with ornaments of gold and jewels. Their trousers were very wide and short, de- scending only to within five or six inches of tlie ground, and were made of silk, some of them being covered with beautifully embroidered figures of birds and flowers. These trousers were held up by a flat braid resting in the small of the back, and around which the crape belt passed. Upon their feet were white cloth coverings, half sock, half gaiter, closely fitting, and fast- ened by cords. Their sandals were of straw, and composed of a small, flat matting for the foot, and two cords to keep it in its place. Another article, almost inseparable from the dress, — the jiipe, — was carried in the back part of the belt, and was brought into very frequent, though not long sus- tained, use, three whiffs being the extent of Japanese indulgence in the weed. The princes, and most of the higher officers, wore watches purchased from the Dutch. For pockets, they used a part of their flowing sleeves and the front of their robes above the belt, the customary occu- pation of which by goodly-sized packages gave the wearers a protulierant appearance quite unaccountable at first sight. The dresses of the officers of lower grade were similarly fashioned, but not so rich in text- ure or color. Their coats were all marked with the stamp of the particular prince whom they served. President Buchanan extended the cour- tesies of the nation to the distinguished strangers in a manner befitting his high station, nor was he an imappreciating observer of their manners and peculiarities. "They never speak to me," he humor- ously said, "without calling me 'Emperor' and 'His Majestj',' and are the most par- ticular people about what they should do. Everything was written down for them, stating the course they were to take, the number of bows they were to make, and all that, before they left Japan. They can't understand me at all. They were here in front, to hear the band, on Satur- day. Well, I went down the steps to speak to some of my friends that I saw, and they couldn't tmderstand tliat at all. To think that I — ' Emperor of the United States ' — should go down among and shake hands with the jieople, astonished them wonderfully. Oh, no ! they couldn't un- derstand that, it was so unlike any thing in their own country. They are the queerest people to deal with j>ossible ; there's no getting anything out of them, the3''re so close about everything. Ah ! these Japanese; they're the most curious people I ever saw. They take notes of every incident. They've got down a long description of how I looked when they had the reception, and every matter they've seen — nothing escapes them. They're always sketching and taking notes of things. They're very proud, too, I can see ; they bow very low, but they won't do more than is prescribed for them in their instructions." The observations of the president, on these points, accorded pre- cisely with the views expressed by others. Tlie interest manifested by the public in the appearance and movements of the Japanese was a source of continued grati- fication to the oriental visitors ; they ap- peared pleased with the motley crowds that assembled under their windows, pre- senting to them quite frequently their smiling countenances, — sometimes amus- ing themselves, also, by throwing their native coin into the street, to be scrambled for. Large numbers of ladies and gentle- men paid their respects to them, and begged a card written in Japanese charac- ters, which were exhibited, in connection with the singular coin, as trophies and mementos of this memorable occasion. The Japanese were particular to inquire the occupation of their visitors, their salary, whether married, and numerous other ques- tions, all of which were written on their note-books. With the ladies they were less particular. They smiled upon them most benignly, and were profuse in their admi- ration, as they were minute in their exam- ination of their jewelry. The piano was GRAJSTD ElIBASSY FROM JAPAN. 491 a special object of curiosity ; the source whence such beautiful harmonies proceeded was a profound mystery to them, but they never seemed to tire of the instrument. One of the most popular members of the embassy was Tataiesi Owasjero, the young- est of the interpreters, and called by his American friends " Tommy." He was a particular favorite with the ladies. When fans were handed to him for his autograph, he wrote upon them, " I like American lady very much ; I want to marry and live here with pletty lady " — (' pletty ' being an emendation of his own upon ' pretty.') Moreover, the sentiments of Tommy ap- peared to be liberally reciprocated. He which he persisted in calling 'Poppy Goes the Weasel,' — thinking the extra syllable rather a good thing. He also extended his American acquirements in a less praise- worthy direction, — getting to swear after a curious manner, and, when over-excited, mingling undue profanity with his conver- sation, but with no notion of the impro- priety he was committing. A beautiful little girl, six or seven years old, was car- ried by Mayor Berret to see the Japanese. Tommy directly assumed a deep interest in her. He explained to her all sorts of Japanese notions, and for once repressed his boisterous instincts. He kept calling all his companions to look at the pretty AMLAS.^AL'URS SIMMI BOOJSEN XOKAMI AND MOOItAGAKI AWAJSI IfOKAMI. was a thorough pet. Bevies of maidens gazed beneficently upon him all day, and until late in the evening, and extended to him unreluctant hands. Matrons, too, proffered him attentions ; but, with keen discrimination, he was generally taken with a fit of business when the smiles that greeted him were not the smiles of youth- ful beauty. He soon learned to sing and whistle — a great acquisition, since the Japanese are not a singing people, and have but few musical instruments. Among the tunes which he mastered were ' Hail Columbia,' and ' Pop Goes the Weasel,' stranger, and when she was about going away, asked : " Is it permitted here to kiss a little girl so young as that ? " — adding that in Japan it was considered exactlj' the correct thing to do. On the occasion of the embassy visiting, in a social way, the president's grounds, Miss Lane, the president's niece, exhibited some curiosity to examine the blade of Ogoori Bungo-No-Kami's sword. No sooner did that official comprehend the desire of the lady to unsheath his catanna (the name of the weapon,) than he smiled most graciously, and said in Japanese, 492 GEAND EMBASSY FEOM JAPAN. "Take it, tny ladj'," at the same time handing it to Iier most gracefully. She, upon this, drew the glittering blade from its scabbard — half wood, half leather, with an inlaying of silver, — and eyed it woman- like and closely, and then returning it to its sheath, handed it back to its owner, who took it with evident j)leasure that the thing of his honor and defense should have excited interest on the part of one so fair. Visiting the navy yard, they were aston- ished at beholding the forging of a main stem of a large anchor. They then pro- ceeded to the steam boiler department, and were evidently delighted with a large new boiler destined for the steamer Pensacola, as they examined it minutely. In the punching establishment, the mode of drill- ing amused them very much, as did also the explosion of a large mass of powder, in the shape of signal lights, as used in the navy. The extending of an immense chain, by hydraulic pressure, greatly ex- cited their curiosity. Alter a tour through different portions of the country, including visits to the principal cities, where the}' were the recip- ients of the most lavish and magnificent hospitalities, they had their final ceremo- nial audience with President Buchanan, in Washington. On this occasion, the first ambassador read, quite in a whisper, the following words of farewell, as repeated by the interpreter : "The exchange of the ratification of the treaty having taken place, and the time of our departure having arrived, we have come to take leave of j'our excellency, and to wish you continued health and prosper- ity. We may be allowed to-day to tender your excellency our heart-felt thanks for your friendly feelings on our behalf, .and for the very kind treatment we have met with in Washington. It has been a source of gratification to us to visit several government institutions, where we have seen many things in which we have felt much interest. Of all this, and of our journey home in the Niagara, a full account will be submitted by us, on our return, to the Tycoon, who will be greatly pleased by it, and who will always endeavor to strengthen and to increase the friendly relations so happily established between the two countries." To the speech of the ambassador, the president replied as follows ; " The arrival of these distinguished commissioners from the Tycoon has been a very propitious and agreeable event in my administration. It is an historical event, which, I trust, will unite the two nations together in bonds of friendship through all time. The conduct of the commissioners has met my entire approbation, and the Ty- coon could not have selected out of all his dominions, any representatives who could have more conciliated the good-will of the government of the United States. I have caused the secretary of state to prepare a letter of re-credence — a letter from under my own hand — to the Tycoon, stating my opinion of the manner in which they have performed their business ; and a copy of that letter will be placed in their hands before their departure. I wish you a very agreeable time during the remainder of your residence in the United States, and a safe and happy return to your own country, under the flag of the American Union. I desire, for mj-self, to present to each of the commissioners a gold medal, struck at the mint, in commemoration of their arrival and services in this country. There have been several presents pre- pared for his imperial majestv the Tycoon, which will be sent to your lodgings in the course of the day." The embassy jeft the United States on the first of July, in the magnificent ship- of-war Niagara, carrj'ing with them, in addition to the treaty by which American commercial privileges in Japan were much extended, a large number of valuable gifts from our government, and the remem- brance of a visit in every respect happy and auspicious. The results of the mission were in the highest degree Satisfactory to both governments, and naturally excited much interest on the part of other nations. LX. TOUR OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, ALBERT EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, THROUGH THE UNITED STATES.— 1860. Friendly Letters between President Buclianun and Queen Victoria on the Siiliject. — The Prince's First Entrance into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. — Hunting Excur.sinn?, Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, etc. — Splendid Banquet at the White House — England's Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King. — Heir to the British Throne — Arrival at Detroit, Chicago, etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Hira. — His Way Completely Blocked Up— On a Hunt: Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of Presi- dent Buchanan. — Courtesies and Ceremonials —Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washing- ton. — Unparalleled Historical Scene — He Plants a Tree at the Grave — Hare Scenes in Philadelpliia. — New York and Boston Festivities — Present from Trinity Church, New York. — Greatest Balls Ever Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America — Incidents, Anecdotes, Inter- views. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. *' Toa may tie well Bsrareil tliat evervwliere in ttiii couDtrv he will he greeted by 'lie American people in Bucti a manner as cannot taii to l»e gratifying to .vour Majesty."— Pkhsidknt Buchanan to Qukkn Vicroau. R. Buchanan's closing presidential year was ren- dered memorable bj' the visit to this country of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, who, being the eldest son of Queen Victoria, and great grandson of George III., — the king who waged against America the wars of 1776 and 1812 — naturally riveted all eyes, and excited univer- sal attention, as he journeyed from one part of the Union to another. At the time of this visit, the prince was in his nineteenth year; had been educated at Oxford University, and was reputed a worthy son of a good mother, — and destined, on the death of the latter, to be King of the British realm. President Bu- chanan, having been informed of the Prince's g^^^l intention to make a Canadian tour, addressed THE PRINCE OF WALES AT WASHINGTON'S TO^B. ^^^ followlng letter to the Queen, which was presented by Mr. Dallas, United States Minister at the Court of St. James : "To HER Majesty, Queen Victoria: I have learned, from the public journals, that the Prince of Wales is about to visit 49i TOTIR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. your Majesty's North American domin- ions. Sliould it be the intention of His Eoyal Highness to extend his visit to the United States, I need not say liow happy I should be to give him a cordial welcome to Washington. You ma}' be well assured that every- where in this country he will be greeted by the American people in such manner as cannot fail to prove gratif^'ing to your Majesty. In this they will manifest their deep sense of your domestic virtues, as well as their convictions of your merits as a wise, patriotic, and constitutional sover- eign. Your Majesty's most obedient servant, James Buchanan." In reply to the foi-egoing highly courte- ous letter, dated at Washington, June 4, 1860, Queen Victoria dispatched the fol- lowing most happily worded response, dated at Buckingham Palace, June 22d : "My GrooD Friend: I have been much gratified at the feel- ings which prompted you to write to me, inviting the Prince of Wales to come to Washington. He intends to return from Canada through the United States, and it will give him great pleasure to have an opportunity of testifj'ing to you in person that these feelings are fully reciprocated by him. He will thus be able, at the same time, to mark the respect which he enter- tains for the Chief Magistrate of a great and powerful state and kindred nation. The Prince of Wales will drop all roj-al state on leaving my dominions, and travel under the name of Lord Renfrew, as he has done when traveling on the continent of Europe. The Prince Consort wishes to be kindly remembered to you. I remain ever, your good friend, Victoria E." It was on the 23d of July, 1860, that the prince arrived at St. Johns, N. F., and, after journeying for some weeks in the various British Provinces, where he was received with the most distinguished and enthusiastic attentions, he finally en- tered American waters, between Windsor, Canada, and Detroit, Mich. When the boat reached the center of the stream, the Mayor of Detroit stepped forward and said : "Baron Renfrew, we luelcome yov, to the United States, trusting that your visit may he a happy one — that you may long remember it %i:ith pleasure avd satisfac- tion." At least fifty thousand persons were present, and when the band struck up The Star Spangled Banner, the cheer- ing and enthusiasm were tremendous. After witnessing a magnificent illumin- ation in his honor, the next morning he departed for Chicago. He was attended, as usual, by his somewhat numerous suite, the Duke of Newcastle being chief, A magnificent open barouche, drawn by four superb white horses, had been provided to convey him from the hotel. The party seated themselves in the barouche, when the immense crowd gathered around, and blocked up the avenues so thickly as to make it next to impossible to proceed. Clieer after cheer was given for the baron, and the wildest enthusiasm prevailed. The carriage was followed by prodigious throngs on foot, many hanging to the wheels, while the streets and sidewalks on the route were so obstructed by people, that the royal party were intercepted at every turn. Arriving at Chicago, a vast assembly greeted him. Baron Renfrew rode along a line of excited people, — who were kept from him by ropes, — bowing, with hat off, amidst repeated cheers. As he passed, a rush was finally made, and, in spite of every effort of the policemen, the crowd surged in like the sea. Ar- riving, at last, at the hotel, five thousand persons were there found gazing at the windows, in almost perfect silence and order, waiting to see the prince's shadow even. Here, the most splendid honors and hospitalities were heaped upon him, exceeding anything of the kind ever be- fore known in that young and powerful city of the west. Leaving Chicago in a special train for Dwight's Station — from which place the prince was to start on a hunting excursion, TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 495 — he arrived there at dark, on Saturday evening. The next day, the prince at- tended divine service at the Presbyterian church. In the afternoon, a courier ar- rived with dispatches from the queen, and the party spent the rest of the day in read- ing their letters and answering them. On Monday they shot prairie chickens ; on Tuesday, they went in pursuit of quail, and were very successful, the prince, who enjoyed the sport highly, bagging over a hundred birds. His host, Mr. Spencer, an experienced hunter, pronounced the prince an excellent sportsman, handling a gun finel}'. The whole party dressed roughly, and walked about the village smoking pipes in the most free-and-easy style. A couple of Irishmen called to see the prince, who welcomed and shook hands with them. Before leaving this place, he expressed his regret that he could not make his stay longer, and presented his hosts with several beautiful gifts, among which was a Manton gun, etc. From this place he went to St. Louis, and thence to Cincinnati. When he landed at the former place, loud cheers greeted him, and the crowd surrounded his carriage to such an extent, that he was obliged to close the windows of the vehi- cle ; the carriages of the suite were also driven in opposite directions, to divide the throng. At the agricultural fair at St. Louis, the royal party passed twice around the arena, and then alighted in the center. After this, they ascended to the second story of the pagoda, where the band struck up God Save the Queen. This was followed by Hail Columbia and Yankee Doodle. At Cincinnati, the prince attended a ball given at the opera-house, Saturday even- ing, and the next day attended worship at St. John's church, and heard a sermon from Bishop Mcllvaine. In the evening he dined with the mayor and other citi- zens. From Cincinnati the prince went to Pittsburg ; dined at Altona ; and ar- rived at Harrisburg late in the evening of October 2d, where he was received by Gov- ernor Packer, in the following unique and off-hand address of welcome ; " Lord Renfrew, — It affords me infinite pleasure to welcome your lordship to the capital of the commonwealth of Pennsyl- vania, one of the old thirteen colonies that oiuginally acknowledged allegiance to the crown of Great Britain, and, notwithstand- ing that allegiance has been severed, your lordship will perceive, by a glance at that long line of colonial and state governors (pointing to the portraits which adorn the executive chambers), that we still have a very, very great veneration and regard for our ancient rulers. That line of portraits is almost a perfect type of our American families. We cannot follow our ancestry more than a few generations back, without tracing the line to a British red-coat." On the third of October, he left Harris- burg, early in the morning, for Baltimore and Washington. On his way, in descend- ing the mountain, the prince and his friends rode upon the locomotive, so as to obtain a better view of the magnificent scenery of the eastern slope of the Alle- chanies, and expressed themselves much gratified with their ride. Declining any reception at Baltimore, the prince pro- ceeded at once to Washington. It would be as impossible to describe the varied honors and ceremonials which were showered upon the prince during his stay in the nation's metropolis, as to detail the fetes, ovations, and multitudinous pa- geants, which attended him at every prin- cipal point along his journey from one end 496 TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. of the country to the other. Suffice it to say, in brief, that at Washington he was received by General Cass, secretary of state, and two nephews of President Bu- chanan. He was at once conducted to the White House, where he was welcomed by the president. At six o'clock he dined, the members of the cabinet and one or two senators with their wives being of the party. On Thursday, October 4tli, the prince and suite visited the capitol and the patent office. A reception was given at the White House, at one o'clock, in honor of the prince, and an immense crowd was present. On this occasion, the prince was dressed in blue coat and gray pants, and, with ungloved hands, stood upon the right of the president ; near the prince stood Lord Lyons. As each person passed, the president shook hands with his customary urbanity, and the prince bowed as usual, though several ladies succeeded in shaking his hand. In the evening, a diplomatic dinner took place at the White House, at which were present a splendid array of high officials and foreign dignita^ ries, the banquet being, in all respects, one of the most splendid of its kind ever given on this continent. The next day, the prince, with his suite and a distinguished company-, visited Mount Vernon and the Tomb of Washing- ton. It was a scene never before enacted by any prince or potentate, — the heir to the proudest throne in the world making a pilgrimage to the tomb of a rebel general, one who, though once pronounced a traitor by the very ancestors of the prince, now ranks above all kings — the Father of a Country second to none. The day was all tliat could be desired, one of October's finest. The prince and his suite, accom- panied by President Buchanan and other eminent persons, went on board the gov- ernment steamer Harriet Lane, and in a short time reached their destination. Having carefully inspected the various apartments of the mansion — the place where the patriot wrote, the room in which be slept, the bed on which he expired, and examined the key of the Bastile, the piano presented by Washington to Mrs. Lewis, and other relics and curiosities, the partj' tlien proceeded in silence to the great patriot's last resting-place. Approaching the hallowed spot, each one reverentially uncovered his head. The Marine Band had arrived before them, and, concealed by a neighboring thicket, began playing a dirge composed by the leader. The scene was most impressive. The vis- itors, ranging themselves in front of the tomb, looked in, through the iron-grated door, at the sarcophagus which contains the mortal remains of the illustrious chief- tain. Then, retiring a few paces, the prince, the president, and the ro^'al party, grouped in front, silently contemplated the Tomb of Washington. Turning their attention once more to the surrounding grounds and scenerj', one cut a cone to carry back to England, as a relic of the place ; another plucked a flower, as a memento of the day and scene ; and the prince, at the request of the Mount Vernon Association, planted, with but little formality, a tree, upon a beauti- ful little mound near the tomb, and took with him a companion seed to plant in Windsor forest. This pleasant commemorative ceremony being over, the visitors again stood for a few moments before the tomb, and then, turning away in thoughtful silence, slowly retraced their way to the Harriet Lane, which during their absence had been trans- formed, by means of canvas and gay flags, into a beautiful dining saloon, with covers laid for the entire party. Going from Washington to Richmond, Va., he there attended St. Paul's church, on Sunday, after which he visited Gov- ernor Letcher. Baltimore was the next place visited, and, after a drive around the city, with the mayor, he left for Philadel- phia, on arriving at which city, he put up at the Continental. As he reached this hotel, an amusing incident transpired. He sprang out of his carriage with his I usual agility, and, to avoid the crowd. I rushed for the stairs, and into the arms of I the superintendent of order, who, presum- TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 497 ing him to be an interloper, stopped him, and would not allow him to pass. In vain the prince struggled and kicked. The superintendent kept fast hold of the " in- truder," until Mayor Henry rushed up and relieved His Royal Highness from this international embrace. The superintend- ent bowed low, and begged pardon, but, with the natural tendency to self-defense, asked, " Why didn't he just speak ? " " Oh," said the prince, running ahead, " that would have spoiled the joke." Some time before the prince arrived in Philadelphia, the ladies swarmed in large numbers to the Continental, to inspect the prince's splendid apartments, to sit where he was to sit, etc. They were escorted in and out of the rooms in parties of three and four, and seemed to feel easier after the visit. After his arrival, hundreds of people stood around the hotel all day. Some, indeed, mostly ladies, who had fought or bribed their way up stairs, hung around the door of his apartments, and touched him curiously as lie slipped past. The principal receptions of the prince, after his departure from Philadelphia, were at New York, West Point, and Boston ; but no account of these receptions, short of an elaborate volume, would be equal to their variety, extent, and magnificence, and consequently only a few incidents can be here narrated. While at New York, he attended wor- ship at Trinity church, three front pews in the center aisle being reserved for the prince and suite. In one of them, and immediately in front of the prince's seat, two magnificent prayer-books were depos- ited, the one a small octavo size, the other a half-quarto. They were both got up in the most perfect style of typographical art, and the skill of the binder had exhausted itself on the exterior decorations. The large one was bound in bright red morocco, and was fastened by a golden clasp, chastely embellished with filigree work, and finely worked with the Prince of Wales's plume and his motto " Ich Dien," ("I serve.") The clasp alone cost two hundred and fifty dollars. On its outer 32 cover, the book bore this inscription . " To His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, from the Corporation of Trinity Church, New York, in Memory of the Munificence of the Crown of En- gland." At the Academy of Music, October 12th, there was given the greatest ball, in honor of the prince, ever known in this country. Over three thousand persons were present — the creme de la creme of New York soci- ety. The ball-room comprised the par- quette of the academy, and embraced the stage. It was one hundred and thirty-five feet in length by sixty-eight feet in breadth. The end toward the stage was arranged in a semi-circular form, while toward the other end were placed three superb couches. The central one was for the prince, while those on either side were for his suite. The decorations were floral throughout the ball-room. The scene was magnificent. There was a sea of heads in a sea of colors — the light flashing back from the gayest and richest of dresses, from pearly white shoulders and brilliant complexions, and from jewels iris-hued and rivaling the stars in brightness. The full-dress black coats absorbed the superfluous light, and softened the blaze of the thousand lamps. The rich military uniforms, ornamented with golden lace and epaulettes, relieved the uniformity of the gentlemen's toilets. While the royal party were observing the throng and the decorations of the room, a sudden rustle and movement of the crowd backward indicated that some acci- dent was about to happen, and, in a mo- ment after, one of the flower vases upon the front tier fell with a great crash to the floor, scattering its roses upon all who stood near. The supper-room was especially erected for the occasion, and its length was one hundred and forty-four feet, by twenty- eight feet breadth. The entire vast apart- ment was draped in alternate strips of pink and white muslin, with twenty-four splen- did mirrors intervening ; magnificent chandeliers, suspended from the roof, con- tributed to the brilliancy of the display. 4'J8 TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. ORAND BALL GIVEN TO THE PRIXCE OF WALES, IN BOSTON. All along the supper-room were two tables, gorgeous in all the appointments of gold, silver, and china ware, and the feast was magnificent. It was at first contemplated to give the prince a grand public dinner, but this was changed to a ball, because the prince, being so j'oung a man, could not be expected to make an extemporaneous speech, and eti- quette forbade any one speaking as his substitute. From New York, the prince sailed in the government steamer Harriet Lane, for West Point. Here he was received with the highest honors known to the military service ; and after visiting the command- ant, and riding round the place, he ac- cepted an invitation to review the cadets. Eight battalion companies of cadets, eleven files front, presented themselves on the right of the line ; then the company of sappers and miners; then the battery of four guns of light artillery, with a corps of cadets acting as cannoneers; and the left v,-2s occupied by a detachment of dragoons. In a few minutes after the formation of the line, the prince and suite, with Lieu- tenant-General Scott, appeared on the parade ground, when Major Rej-nolds gave the order to " Prepare for Review." Tlie ranks of the troops were opened, the artil- lery unlimbered, the oflicers and colors to the front, when the reviewing party marched to the head of the military col- umn, while the band played the air of God Save the Queen. As the prince and escort passed down the military line, the band pla_yed the very elegant air of the Flowers of Edinburgli. The reviewers passed down the front, and between the open ranks of the troops, back to their original position on the parade ground. The troops were then broke into column by companies and marched in review — first in common time, then in quick time, and finally in double quick time. As the commandants of the companies passed and saluted the prince, he gracefully raised his hat in acknowledgment. Leaving West Point, the princa pro- TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 49"J ceeded to Albany, where he was received by Governor Morgan and the state author- ities. After spending an hour or two at the capitol, he repaired to the governor's residence, and dined there, Mr. Seward and others being guests. The next day he took a special train for Springfield, Mass., and thence to Boston. He was conducted to his quarters by the Boston authorities, an immense crowd following. The principal occasions of interest, while stopping in Boston, were as follows : On Thursday he witnessed a great political procession ; then received Ralph Farnhani, the survivor of Bunker Hill battle ; re- viewed the troops on Boston Common ; attended a children's musical entertain- ment at the music hall ; and went to the ball in the evening. On Friday, visited Harvard college, and examined all the objects of interest at that venerable seat of learning ; and subsequently visited Mount Auburn, Bunker Hill, and the Charles- town navy yard. A very interesting interview was that with Ralph Farnham. The Duke of New- castle, who, with most of the suite, was present, asked the revolutionary veteran if he saw Burgoyne when he surrendered, adding, " You rather had him there ! " The old soldier then remarked, chucklingly, that hearing so much said in praise of the prince, he began to fear that the people were all turning royalists. This and Mr. Farnham's manner elicited much laughter, in which the prince fully joined. The prince then sent for pen and ink, and exchanged autographs with his visitor — one of the men who had stood before Brit- ish soldiers in 1776, in a manner and with a bearing very different from that vrith which he received the prince's courtesies and exchanged glances with the majors, colonels, and guardsmen of the royal suite. Mr. Farnham afterwards spoke of the interview with the greatest pleasure, re- marking that "he wished to show the boy and his soldiers that he bore no anger for old times." The musical festival was a novel and pleasant entertainment, at Music Hall. Twelve hundred school children were ar- ranged upon seats sloping from the floor to the ceiling, and from the platform one could see two large triangles of boys, and two immense parallelograms of gayly- dressed girls, while between them was an orchestra of sixty performers. As the prince entered, the whole comjjany rose, and the masses of children waved handker- chiefs and clapped hands, producing a fine effect. A grand success, too, was the ball, given at the Boston Theater, — not exceeded in splendor by that in New York. If one can imagine the immensity of this thear ter ; the dancing floor inclosed as by a pavilion, each tier differently and most richly decorated, and crowded with su- perbly dressed ladies ; the royal box all aglare with light, and rich in gilt, purpile, and azure; the frescoed ceiling, with its pendant dome of light, the marquee, with its groves, flowers, mirrors, arabesque ceiling, its multiform and varied decorations, and its view of Windsor Castle, seen as if from gome immense window ; — if one can imag- ine this scene, and then crowd it with richly dressed ladies, with gentlemen in every variety of ball costume, while, over all, the lights streamed their brilliant radiance, mirrors and jewels flashing back and reduplicating the rays, and the soft, sweet swell of the music bearing with it the graceful moving throng in a bewilder- ing maze of beauty, an adequate idea of the magnificent occasion may possibly be gained. Curiously enough, the Boston ball op- ened something like that in New York ; for all the committees, being anxious to speak to the prince, and leaning forward to do so, crash went a large vase of flowers, scattering its contents over the prince. There were profuse apologies, but the prince was laughing so heartily, that ha could not hear nor speak. The prince's appreciation of American ladies was very marked. At the Boston ball, he remarked slyly to a beautiful belle, "They made me dance with the old chaps in Canada." At Montreal, he 500 TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. danced with Miss Blackburn, of Katchez, ' ^'^'^'^^ *° ^^ **^^° terrors, for they ' ^-^ rode down footmen without mercy. they seemed to infect those with whom they came in contact. The retreat soon became a rout, and this soon degenerated into a panic. Finding this state of affairs was beyond the efforts of all those who had assisted so faithfully during the long and hard day's work in gaining almost the object of their wishes, and that nothing remained on the field but to recognize what could no longer be prevented. Gen- eral McDowell gave the necessary orders to protect their withdrawal, begging the men to form in line, and after the appear- ance, at least, of organization. They re- turned by the fords to the Warrenton road, protected by Colonel Porter's force of reg- ulars. Once on the road, and the different corps coming together in small parties. An artilleryman was seen running between the ponderous fore and after wheels of his gun-carriage, hanging on with both hands, and vainly striving to jump upon the ordnance; but the drivers were spurring the horses; he could not cling much longer, and a more agonized expression never fixed the features of a drowning man ; the carriage bounded from the roughness of a steep hill leading to a creek, he lost his hold, fell, and in an instant the great wheels had crushed the life out of him. And still the flight continued. It did not slack in the least until Centreville was reached. There the sight of the reserve Miles's brigade — formed in order on the hill, seemed somewhat to reassure the van. But still the teams and foot soldiers pushed 522 BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. on, passing their own camps and heading swiftly for the distant Potomac, until for ten miles the road over which the grand army had so lately marched southward, gay with unstained banners, and flushed with surety of strength, was covered with the fragme'its of its retreating forces, shat- tered and panic-stricken in a single day. From the branch route the trains attached to Hunter's division had caught the con- tagion of the flight, and poured into its already swollen current another turbid freshet of confusion and dismay. The teamsters, many of them, cut the traces of their horses, and galloped from their wagons. Others threw out their loads to accelerate their flight, and grain, picks, and shovels, and provisions of every kind, lay trampled in the dust for leagues. Thousands of muskets strewed the route, and when some of the fugitives were ral- lied and induced to form into a line, there was hardly one but had thrown away his arms. Many who went into the battle with Heintzelman and Hunter fled by the road over which Tyler had advanced. In the general race, all divisions and all regiments were mingled. There was not even an attempt to cover the retreat of Tyler's division. With Heintzelman's it was bet- ter j Lieutenant Drummond's cavalry troop keeping firm line, and protecting the artillery until its abandonment was imper- atively ordered. Regulars and volunteers shared the disorder alike. Whole batter- ies were left upon the field, and the cutting off of others was ordered when the guns had already been brought two miles or more from the battle-ground. A perfect frenzy was upon almost every man. Some cried piteously to be assisted in their help- lessness, and others sought to clamber into wagdns, the occupants resisting them with iayonets. Even the sentiment of shame had gone. Some of the better men tried to withstand the rush, and cried out against the flying groups, calling them "cowards, poltroons, brutes," and reviling them for so degrading themselves, espe- cially when no enemy was near. There were, of course, numerous excep- tione to the general spirit of fear and frenzy. Thus, when the order was given at head-quarters for retreat, the word was passed down the line to the New York Zouaves. " Do not ! " exclaimed a score of the " pet lambs " in a breath ; " Do not ! " " We are ordered to retreat," said the commander, to his brave men. "Wot'n thunder's that?^' responded one of the hard-heads, who evidently did not comprehend the word exactly. " Go back — retire," continued the commander. "Go back — w/tere?" "Leave the field." "Leave? Why, that ain't what we come for. We're here to fight," insisted the boys. " We came here with one thousand forty men," said the commander ; " and there are now six hundred left. Fall back, boys ! " and the " lambs " sulkily retired, evidently displeased with the order. It was these who received the first charge of the famous Black Horse Guard, a splendid corps of cavalrj', all the horses of which were coal-black. They came upon the Zouave regiment at a gallop, and were received by the brave firemen upon their poised bayonets, followed instantly bj' a volley, from which they broke and fled, though several of the Zouaves were cut down in the assault. They quickly returned, with their forces doubled — per- haps six or seven hundred — and again they dashed with fearful yells upon the excited Zouaves. This time they bore an Ameri- can flag, and a part of the Zouaves sup- posed for an instant that they were friends, whom they had originally mistaken. The flag was quickly thrown down, however, the horses dashed upon the regiment, the nise was discovered, and the slaughter com- menced. No quarter, no halting, no flinch- ing, marked the rapid and death-dealing blows of the men, as they closed in upon each other, in mutual madness and despera- tion. The brave fellows fell, the ranks filled up, the sabers, bowie-knives, and bayonets, glistened in the sunlight, horse after horse went down, platoon after platoon disap- peared, — the carnage was dreadful, the bravery on both sides unexampled. BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 523 BATTLE OF Blenker's brigade did heroic service. Steady and watchful, he held his line throughout the evening, advancing his skirmishers at every token of attack, and spreading a sure protection over the multi- tudes who fled disordered through his col- umns. With three regiments he stood to fight against an outnumbering host al- ready flushed with victory and eager to complete its triumph. As the darkness increased, his post became more perilous and more honorable. At eleven o'clock, the attack came upon the advance company of Colonel Stahel's rifles, not in force, but from a body of cavalry whose successful passage would have been followed by a full force, and the consequent destruction of the broken hosts of the routed army. But the cavalry was driven back, and never returned, and at two in the morning, the great body of federal troops having passed and found their road to safety, the com- BULL RUN. niand was given to retreat in order, and the brigade fell slowly and regularly back, with the same precision as if on parade. Over and over again, Blenker begged per- mission to maintain his post, or even to advance. "Retreat!" said he in a voice of thunder, to the messenger from head- quarters, "bring me the word to go on, sir ! " But the command was peremptory, and he was left no alternative. As an illustration of the almost univer- sal lack of military order and discipline characterizing the conduct of the federal army, after being seized with panic, the following is in point: At five o'clock p. M., the New York Sixteenth and Thirty- first regiments being well in advance toward Blackburn's ford, were called upon to stem the tide of the Virginia cavalry, who were swooping at the retreating forces. An order from Miles, conse- quently, sent the First California regi- 524 BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. ment, under Colonel Matheson of the New York Thirty-second, forward to their sup- port ; but, though the cavalry was thus turned to the right about, it was found impossible to withstand the mad career of the extraordinary mass that came pouring back upon Centreville. The best that oould be done, therefore, was for the Cali- fornia regiment to stay just where it was, and, in absence of further orders, lend what aid it could to the protection of Green's battery, which was busily plying its fire upon the harassing approaches of the Virginia horse. While the Thirty- second was in this position, the Sixteenth and Thirty-first having passed within its range, a youthful orderly rode up to Colonel Matheson to inform that the Black Cav- alry, sheltered from his observation by a piece of woods, were coming upon the right, and if he would take a cut with his regiment across the fields, they would be turned back upon their errand. The evo- lution was performed, gave the protection that was desired, and the Black Horse gave up its purpose in that quarter. While the regiment, however, was adher- ing to this position, the same youth who had imparted the previous suggestion rode up to the regiment again, and told Matheson he had better fall back on Centreville, as his duty at that spot had been thoroughly performed. As this was the first sign of orders (with one single exception) he had received dur- ing the entire day, Matheson felt some curioaity to learn who this young lieu- tenant was, and whence these orders came ; he therefore turned sharply on the youth, wlio, he now perceived, could not be more than twenty-two or three, and said: " Young man, I would like to know your name." " I ain a son of Quartermaster-General Meigs." " By whose authority, then, do you de- liver me these orders ? " " Well, sir," replied the youth, smiling, "the truth is, that for the last few hours I have been giving all the orders for this division, and acting as general, too, for there is no general on the field." The fortunes of war seemed to favor the confederate army, in some respects quite unlocked for, during the day's struggle, though at one time their fate hung trem- bling in the balance. Generals Bartow and Bee had been stricken down ; Lieutenant- Colonel Johnson, of the Hampton Legion, had been killed; and Colonel Hampton had been wounded. General Beauregard, however, promptly offered to lead the Legion into action, which he executed in a style unsurpassable. He rode up and down the lines between the federal troops and his own men, regardless of the heavy firing, cheering and encouraging his troops. About this time, a shell struck his horse, taking his head off, and also killing the horses of two of his aids. General Johnston threw himself into the thickest of the fight, seizing the colors of the Georgia regiment, and rallying them to the charge. At this critical moment. General Johnston was heard to exclaim to General Cocke, " Oh, for four regiments !" His wish was answered, for in the distance some re-enforcements appeared. The tide of battle now turned in their favor, for Gen. Kirby Smith had arrived from Win- chester with four thousand men. General Smith heard while on the Manassas rail- road cars the roar of battle. He stopped the train and hurried his troops across the field to the point just where he had been most needed. They were at first supposed to be federal troops, their arrival at that point of the field being so c-ntirely unex- pected. Jefferson Davis left Richmond at six o'clock in the morning, and reached Manassas Junction at four, where, mount- ing ahorse, and accompanied by numerous attendants, he galloped to the battle-field just in time to join in the pursuit by a magnificent bod}' of cavalry. As he waved his hat, and exclaimed "Onward, my brave comrades ! " cheer after cheer went up from the enthusiastic host. Thus, with the arrival of Davis on the field, the con- federate army may be said to have had three commanders-in-chief during the BATTLE OF BULL KUN, VA. 525 &>arse of the battle. The whole south was, of course, jubilant over the victory which their arms had achieved. Te Deums were sung in the churches, and a day of thanksgiving observed. Through- out the north, the gloom and humilia- tion at this most unlooked-for defeat was intense. According to General McDowell's report, the federal army's losses in this engage- ment were 481 killed and 1,011 wounded. The confederate losses, according to Gen- eral Beauregard's report, counted up 269 killed and 1,533 wounded. An immense quantity of ordnance, ammunition, etc., fell into the hands of the victors. In the summer of 1865, on the return of peace, a monument was erected by friends of the Union, about three-fourths of a mile beyond Bull Run bridge, in "memory of the patriots" who fell in this celebrated battle, and the dedicatory ceremonies consisted of a solemn dirge, the reading of the Episcopal burial-service, the singing of an original hymn composed by Pierpont, and addresses by Generals Wilcox, Farns- worth, Heintzelman, and others. The interest attaching to this famous battle- field, viewed in all its historic circum- stances and consequences, is not exceeded by that of any other on the American con- I tinent. LXIV. EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRON-CLADS MERRIMAC AND MONITOR, IN HAMPTON ROADS.— 1862. Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Araont; the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible Destmc- tion by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the " Little Monitor " at the Scene of Action. — She Engages and Disablea the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval War- fare the World Over by tliis Remarkable Contest. — How the Merrimac Changed Hands. — Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va — Her Hull Raised by the Confederates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated. — Proof Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in Her Prow. — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat. — In Command of Commodore Buchanan. — Departs from Norfolk, March 8th — Pierces and Sinks the Cumberland. — Next Attacks the Congress. — The Noble Frigate Destroyed. — Fight Begun with the Minnesota. — Suspended at Nightfall. — Trip of the Monitor trom New York. — Her New and Singular Build. — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple wiih the Monster. — The Two Together, Next Day. — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimaa " Bb it Rrsolted, bto., Thnt the thank" of ConfresD and of the American people are due, and are hereby tendered, to Lieutenants. L. Worden, nf the United Statei Navy, and t.. the offloem and men of the iron-clad ^tin-bnat Monitor, under his command, for the sltil) and Fillantry exhibited by them in the late remarkable battle between the Monitor and the rebel iron-ctad ateamer Merrimac."— RasoLUTtOM ASSKD BT COKOHKSa. UITTING the city of Norfolk, Va., on the eighth of March, 1862, the confederate iron-clad steam- ram Merrimac sailed down Elizabeth river into Hampton Eoads, Chesapeake Bay, and there sig- nalized the navai history of the civil war in Amer- ica by an action not only memorable beyond all others in that tremendous conflict, but altogether unprecedented in the annals of ocean warfare in any country or '". any age. On the abandonment and destruction, by fire, of the Norfolk navy yard, in April, 1861, by the United States officers in charge, among the vessels left behind was the steam frigate Merrimac, of four thousand tons burden, then under repair. In the conflagration she was burned to her copper-line, and down through to her berth-deck, which, with her spar and gun- Gwe'emfits! Hur- r i/i for the flag I " He lived tiU she sank. COMBAT BETWEEN MEERIMAC AND MONITOR. 5:^9 Having thoroughly demolished the Cum- berlaud, the Merrimac now proceeded to deal with the Congress, the officers of which, having seen the fate of the Cum- berland, and aware that the Congress must also be sunk if she remained within reach of the iron monster's beak, had got all sail on the ship, with the intention of running her ashore. The tug-boat Zouave also came out and made fast to the Cumberland, and assisted in towing her ashore. The Merrimac then surged up, gave the Congress a broadside, receiving one in return, and getting astern, raked the Con- gress fore and aft. This fire was terribly destructive, a shell killing every man at one of the guns except one. Coming again broadside to the Congress, the Merrimac ranged slowly backward and forward, at less than one hundred yards distant, and fired broadside after broadside into the Congress. The latter vessel replied man- fully and obstinately, every gun that could be brought to bear being discharged rap- idly, but with little effect upon the iron monster. Some of the balls caused splint- ers of iron to fly from her mailed roof, but still she seemed well nigh invulnerable. The Merrimac's guns appeared to be spe- cially trained on the after-magazine of the Congress, and shot after shot entered that part of the ship. Thus slowly drifting down with the current and again steaming up, the Merri- mac continued for an hour to fire into her opponent. Several times the Congress was on fire, but the flames were kept down. Finally, the ship was on fire in so many places, and the flames gathering such force, that it was hopeless and suicidal to keep up the defense any longer. The federal flag was sorrowfully hauled down and a white flag hoisted at the peak. After it was hoisted, the Merrimac continued to fire, perhaps not discovering the white flag, but soon after ceased firing. A small confederate tug that had fol- lowed the Merrimac out of Norfolk then came alongside the Congress, and a young officer gained the gun-deck through a port- hois, announced that he came on board to take command, and ordered the officers on board the tug. The officers of the Con- gress refused to go, hoping from the near- ness to the shore that they would be able to reach it, and unwilling to become pris- oners whilst the least chance of escape remained. Some of the men, thinking the tug was a federal vessel, rushed on board. At this moment, the members of an Indi- ana regiment, at Newport News, brought a Parrott gun down to the beach and opened fire upon the tug. The latter hastily put off, and the Merrimac again opened fire upon the Congress. The fire not being returned from the ship, the Mer- rimac commenced shelling the woods and camps at Newport News. By the time all were ashore, it was seven o'clock in the evening, and the Con- gress was in a bright sheet of flame fore and aft. She continued to burn until twelve o'clock at night, her guns, which were loaded and trained, going off as they became heated. Finally, the fire reached her mag- azines, and with a tremendous concussion her charred remains blew up. There were some five tons of gunpowder in her mag- azines, and about twenty thousand dollars in the safe of paymaster Buchanan, the latter officer being an own brother to the commander of the Merrimac. The loss of life on board the Congress was lamentable. After sinking the Cumberland and firing the Congress, the Merrimac (with her companions the Yorktown and James- town,) stood off in the direction of the Minnesota, which, in trying to reach the scene of action, had run aground, and could not be moved. An exchange of shot and shell, however, took place between the vessels, after which, nightfall setting in, the Merrimac steamed in under Sewall's Point, expecting the next day to capture the Minnesota as a prize, instead of destroy- ing her. The day thus closed dismally for the federal side, and with the most gloomy apprehensions of what would occur the next day. The Minnesota was at the mercy of the Merrimac, and there appeared no reason whj' the iron monster might not clear the Boads of the whole fleet, and 530 COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. destroy all the stores and warehouses on the beach. Saturday, therefore, was a night of terror at Fortress Monroe. But just here, the chief event of interest centers. It was at night, the moon shin- ing brightly, when, totally unexpected, there came into those blood-dyed waters, the little gun-boat Monitor, from New York, — a vessel which had just been completed, from designs of Mr. Ericsson, and differ- ing materially from any vessel ever before constructed, and believed by its inventor to be absolutely invulnerable. Externally, it had the appearance of a long, oval raft, rising only eighteen inches above the water, with a low, round tower upon its center. This raft was the upper part of the hull of the vessel, and was plated with iron so as to be ball-proof; it projected on every side be30nd the lower hull, which contained the machinery. The tower, con- taining two heavy guns, the only arma- ment of the battery, was of iron, and nearly a foot in thickness, and so constructed as to revolve, bringing the guns to bear upon any point. This tower, nine feet high and twenty in diameter, and a pilot-house, ris- ing three feet, were all that appeared upon the smooth, level deck. She was com- manded by Lieutenant Worden, U. S. N., and, though a mere pigmy, in size and armament, compared with the Merrimac, was soon to measure her prowess with the latter, in a contest such as had never entered into the imagination even of Mr. Ericsson himself. The succeeding day, Sunday, dawned fair. As the sun broke on the horizon, a slight haze was visible on the water, which prevented an extended vision. At half past six, A. M., this haze cleared away. Looking toward Sewall's Point, there appeared the Merrimac, and her attend- ants, the steamers Yorktown and Patrick Henry. They were stationary, — the Mer- rimac to the right of the others, blowing off steam. They seemed deliberating what to do — whether to move on to attempt the destruction of the Minnesota, which was yet aground, or move on to the federal fleet anchored near the Rip Raps. At seven o'clock, a plan seemed to nave been adopted, and the Merrimac steamed in the direction of the Minnesota, which was still aground. The Yorktown and Jamestown were crowded with troops, and steamed slowly after the Merrimac. The latter steamed along with boldness until she was within three miles of the Minnesota, when the Monitor essayed from behind the lat- ter, and proceeded toward the Merrimac. It should here be mentioned, that when Lieutenant Worden first arrived in the Roads and was informed of what had occurred, though his crew were suffering from exposure and loss of rest from a stormy voyage around from New York, he at once made preparations for taking part in whatever might take place the next day. To this end, the Monitor moved up, before daj-light on Sunday morning, and took a position alongside the Minnesota, lying between the latter ship and the fortress, where she could not be seen by the enemy, but was ready, with steam up, to slip out. At the sudden appearance of so strange- looking and diminutive a craft as the Mon- itor, the confederate monster seemed non- plussed, and hesitated, no doubt in wonder- ment that such an unaccountable and apparently insignificant an object should be making so bold an approach. The Merrimac now closed the distance between her and the Monitor, until they were within a mile of each other. Both batteries stopped. The Merrimac fired a shot at the Minnesota, to which no reply was made. She then fired at the Monitor ; the latter replied, hitting the Merrimac near the water-line. The Merrimac then commenced firing very rapidly, first from her stern gun at the Monitor, and then her broadside guns, occasionally firing a shot at the Minnesota. The fight went on in this way for an hour or two, both ves- sels exchanging shots pretty freely. Some- times the Merrimac would retire, followed by the Monitor, and sometimes the reverse. While the fight between the batteries was going on, one hundred solid nine-inch shot were sent up from Fortress Monroe on the steamer Rancocas to the Minnesota. COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 531 At a quarter-past ten o'clock, the Merri- mac and Monitor had come into pretty close quarters, the former giving the latter two broadsides in succession. It was replied to promptly by the Monitor. The firing was so rapid that both craft were obscured in colum: is of white smoke for a moment or more. The ramparts of the fort, the rigging of the vessels in port, the houses, and the bend, were all crowded with sailors, soldiers and civilians. When the rapid firing alluded to took place, these spectators were singularly silent, as if doubtful as to the result. Their impatience was soon removed by the full figure of the Monitor, with the stars and stripes flying at her stern, steaming around the Merri- J5 mac, moving with the ease of a duck on t the water. The distance between the ves- = sels was forty feet. In this circuit, the ~ Monitor's guns were not idle, as she fired ^] shot after shot into her antagonist, two of 2 which penetrated the monster's sides. S At eleven, a. m., the Minnesota opened '■ fire, and assisted the Monitor in engaging = the Merrimac. She fired nine-inch solid g shot with good accuracy, but with appar- £ ently little effect. The Merrimac returned S the fire, firing shell, one of which struck 5 and exploded the boiler of the gun-boat " Dragon, which was alongside the Minne- j sota, endeavoring to get her off. Pot the > next hour, the battle raged fiercely between '^ the Merrimac on the one side, and her antagonists, the Monitor, Minnesota, and Whitehall, but with no important result. The Minnesota being the best mark for the Merrimac, the latter fired at her fre- quently, alternately giving the Monitor a shot. The Merrimac made several attempts, also, to run at full speed past the Monitor, to attack and run down the Minnesota. All these attempts were parried, as it were, by the Monitor. In one of these attempts by the Merrimac, she ran her prow or ram with full force against the side of the Monitor; but it only had the effect of careening the latter vessel in the slightest degree. The Yorktown and Patrick Henry kept at a safe distance from the Monitor. The former vessel, at the beginning of the 532 COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. fight, had the temerity to come within respectable range of the Monitor. The latter fired one shot at her, which carried away her pilot-house, and caused her to lose no time in retiring. As the Monitor carried but two guns, whilst the Merrimac had eight, of course she received two or three shots for every one she gave. The fight raged hotly on both sides, the opposing batteries moving around each other with great skill, ease, and dexterity. The Merrimac, though the strongest, did not move with the alertness of her antagonist ; hence the Monitor had the advantage of taking choice of position. At a quarter before twelve o'clock, noon, Lieutenant Hepburn, the signal officer on the ramparts at Fortress Monroe, reported to General Wool that the Monitor had pierced the sides of the Merrimac, and in a few minutes the latter was in full retreat. Whether true, or not, that the Merrimac's armor had actually been penetrated, her iron prow had become so wrenched in striking the sides of her antagonist, that the timbers within were started, and the vessel leaked badly. The little Monitor followed the retreating Merrimac until she got well inside Sewall's Point, and then returned to the Minnesota. It is probable that the pursuit would have been con- tinued still farther, but Lieutenant Worden had previously had his eyes injured, and it was felt that, as so much depended on the Monitor, it was imprudent to expose her unnecessarily. At the time he was injured, Lieutenant Worden was looking out of the eye-holes of the pilot-house, which were simply horizontal slips, half an inch wide. A round shot struck against these slits as Lieutenant Worden was looking through, causing some scalings from the iron and fragments of cement to fly with great force against his eyes, utterly blinding him for some days, and permanently destroying the power of his left eye. Stunned by the concussion, he was carried away helpless. On recovering sufficiently to speak, he asked — " Hxve I saved the Minnesota ? " " Yes, and whipped the Merrimac" was the answer. " Then Idon^t care what becomes of me " said Lieutenant Worden. No other real damage was received by the Monitor, during the action ; the deep- est indentation received by her was on the side, amounting to four and one-half inches ; on the turret, the deepest was one and one-half inches ; and on the deck, one- half inch. The Merrimac, in addition to the injury already mentioned, had her anchor and flag-staff shot away, her smoke- stack and steam-pipe riddled, two of her crew killed and eight wounded, including her commander, Buchanan. The latter officer went out on his deck, was seen by the federal sharp-shooters at Camp Butler, and was shot with a minie rifle ball in his left leg, which maimed him for life. His exploits gained him great favor at the south, and he was subsequently made Admiral of the Confederate States navy. The praises of Lieutenant Worden filled every loyal mouth, and he was successfully promoted to the highest rank in the ser- vice. Withdrawing to liorfolk, the Jlerrimac underwent extensive repairs for some weeks, and was provided with ordnance of great power. She then took her station at the mouth of the Elizabeth river, guard- ing it, and threatening the United States vessels in the Roads, but, on account of some defects in her working, not ventur- ing an attack. Finally, Norfolk having surrendered to the Union forces, May 10th, and the Merrimac being found to draw too much water to admit of her being removed up the river, she was on the 12th aban- doned and set on fire, and soon after b'ew up. The loss of two such fine war vessels as the Cumberland and Congress, with some four hundred brave men, cast a gloom over the nation, the weight of which was only relieved by the heroism displayed in their defense. Indeed, one of the greatest in- stances of patriotic devotion ever recorded in our own or any other nation's naval his- tory, is that which narrates the closing COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 533 scene on board the Cumberland. Neither the shots of the Congress, nor of the Cum- berland, had any more effect, for the most part, upon the iron-mailed Merrimac, than if they had been so many peas. But if they could have kept ihe Merrimac off, she never could have sunk the Cumberland. They had then nothing to do but stand and fight and die like men. Buchanan asked their commander, Lieutenant Morris — " Will you surrender the ship ? " " Never," said Morris, " never will we surrender the ship." Buchanan then backed his huge lam off again, and the Cumberland fired as rapidly as she could, but the Merrimac came once more and ran her steel beak in ; and now it was that Buchanan asked Lieutenant Morris, calling him by name — ■ Mr. Morris, will you surrender that ship?" " Never," said Morris, " sinJc her ! " The remaining act in this startling drama is well known. The guns of the Cumberland were coolly manned, loaded and discharged, while the vessel was in a sinking condition, and the good ship went down with her flag flj'ing defiantly at the gaff. Similar was the bravery exhibited on board the ill-fated Congress. The father of +-he gallant commander of that ship (Liei'*'enant Joseph Smith), who lost his life in that terrible encounterj was Com- modore Joseph Smith, of Washington. It appears that the elder Smith had exerted himself specially to finish the work on the Monitor, and hasten her departure. The son, too, had written repeatedly to the naval authorities at Washington, express- ing his fears for the consequences of an attack from the Merrimac, and urging plans for guarding against it. The father knew the spirit of his son, and that the only issue of a battle for him was death or victory. When he saw, therefore, by the first dispatch from Fortress Monroe, that the Congress had raised the white flag, he only remarked quietly, " Joe is dead ! " No Roman father ever paid a nobler or more emphatic tribute of confidence to a gallant son than is contained in the words 60 uttered, nor ever gave that son to his country with more cheerful and entire devotion. The sad assur- ance was well founded. The flag was not struck until his son had fallen. Not less conspicuous was the conduct of Charles Johnston, boats- wain of the Congress — a fine speci- men of the thorough seaman, who had been in the navy some thirty odd years — who greatly excited the admiration of the officers by his cool, unflinching courage. Sta- tioned in the very midst of the carnage committed by the raking fire of the Merrimac, he never lost his self-possession, and not for a moment failed to cheer on and encourage the men. Blinded with the smoke and dust, and splashed with the blood and brains of his shipmates, his cheering words of encouragement were still heard. After the engagement, from which he escaped unwounded, his kindness and care in pro- viding for the removal of the wounded, were untiring. The fact has already been mentioned that the paymaster of the Con- gress was an own brother of the com- mander of the Merrimac. His position was one of extreme agony, but his loyal heart did not fail him. " Just before the sanguinary engagement," said paymaster 534 COMBAT BETWEEN MEERIMAC AND MONITOR. Buchanan, " I volunteered my serv- ices to Lieut. Commanding Joseph B. Smith for duty on either of the upper decks, although the rebel steamer Mer- rimac was commanded by my own brother, when I received an order to take charge of the berth-deck division, which order I promptly obeyed, and, thank God, I did some service to my beloved country." The character of this contest may truly be said to have astonished the world, and its effect has been to revolutionize the principles and mode of naval warfare, ren- dering wooden vessels of war practically useless for active service. LXV. BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD.— 1862. Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw.— Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side.— General McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War."— Four Miles and Fourteen Hours of Fighting and Slaughter —The Shock and " Glory "of War on a Colossal Scale— Obstinate Brav- ery of the Contending Foes.— Some of the Regiments Almost Annihilated —The Union Troops Hold the Disputed Ground.— Lee's Great Military Object —His Troops Enter Maryland.— Frowning Masses of Soldiery.— Surrender of Harper's Ferry.— McClellan's Army in Motion— He Attacks the Enemy in Position.— Hooker Leads the Advance.— He is Shot and Disabled.— Death of General Mansfield.— Other Union Generals Wounded —Reno's Untimely End.— Rain of Shot and Shell.— Various Fortunes of the Day —Close and Stern Ordeal— Feat of Burnside's Corps —Their Struggle for the Hill.— A Fearful Crisis with General Burnside — He Asks for Re-enforcemente.- McClellan's Memorable Reply.— Driving the Enemy en masse.— Forty of their Colors Taken.— The After-Scene of Horror. " Our forcea slept that night conquerfira on lAL McClellan s official Repobt. a field won by their valor, and covered with the dead and wounded of the nemy."— Gbh- , EAVY and melancholy as was the loss of '4ife attending the bloody battle of Antietam, on the 17th of September, 1862, between the Union and confederate armies — numbering about one hundred thousand brave soldiers each — and com- manded, respectively, by General McClellan and General Lee, a burden of anxiety was rolled off the loyal hearts of the North, when, on the evening of that day, there came from General Hooker the following thrilling dispatch, dated at Centreville, Md. : " A great battle has been fought, and we are victorious. I had the honor to open it yesterday afternoon, and it continued until ten o'clock this morning, when I was wounded, and compelled to quit the field. The battle was fought with great violence on both sides. The carnage has been awful. I only regret that I was not per- mitted to take part in the operations until they were concluded, for I had counted on either cap- turing their army or driving them into the Potomac. My wound ha., been painful, but it is not one that will be likely to lay me up. I was shot through the foot. One great object of General Lee, during the summer of this ye.-ir. was to possess BOKTIHQ THE DEAD AT ANTIETAM. 536 BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. himself of Harper's Ferry, as the base of future and more important operations. To this end, the confederate forces under Gen- erals Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, en- tered Frederick, Md., in the early part of Septehiber, and occupied all the adjoining country, their right resting on the Mono- cacy river. The federal army, which with the exception of about fourteen thousand men at Harper's Ferry, had been concen- trated near Washington, and had been placed under the immediate command of General McClellan, advanced to meet the enemy. Passing up the Potomac, thej' interposed in force between the confeder- ates and the fords by which they had crossed, threatening to cut off their re- treat in case they should be defeated. Perceiving this, the confederates aban- doned Frederick, and went northward to Hagerstown, which was occupied Septem- ber 11th. A strong body was then sent to attack Harper's Ferry. The assault was opened on the 12th and continued on the following day, when the federal troops were driven from the heights on the Mary- land side. On Monday morning the place was fairly surrounded, and fire was opened from seven or eight different points. On the morning of the 15th, Colonel Miles, commander at Harper's Ferry, ordered the white flag to be raised, to General Jackson ; a few moments after, he was struck by a shot which mortally wounded him. The cavalry, numbering some two thousand, who had been at the Ferry, cut their way through the enemy's lines and escaped ; the remainder of the troops, to the number of about eleven thousand, surrendered, and were immediately paroled. The posses- sion of the place was of considerable ad- vantage to the confederates, though they retained it but for one day ; the bridge over the Potomac not being destroyed enabled them to cross the river, and take part in the battle of Antietam, which fol- lowed on the 17th. A close pursuit was kept up b}* the fed- eral armj', and, early on the morning of the 14th, the advance — the right and center under Hooker and Reno, the left under Franklin — came up with the enemy, who were strongly posted on the crest of the South Mountain, commanding the road to Hagerstown. The attack on both wings, which lasted from noon until nightfall, re- sulted in forcing the confederates from all their positions, so that they retreated during the night in the direction of Williamsport. In this action. General Reno was killed. Having hastily abandoned Harper's Ferry, the confederates re-crossed the Potomac, and joined the main body under Lee. In the meantime, McClellan had defi- nitely made his arrr.ngements for giving battle to the opposing hosts. In accord- ance with this plan, as detailed by McClel- lan, in his official report. Hooker's corps, consisting of Rickett's and Doubleday's divisions, and the Pennsylvania reserves, under Meade, was sent across the Antie- tam creek, by a ford and bridge to the right of Kedysville, with orders to attack, and, if possible, turn the enemy's left. Mansfield, with his corps, was sent in the evening to support Hooker. Arrived in position, Meade's division of the Pennsyl- vania reserves, which was at the head of Hooker's corps, became engaged in a sharp contest with the enem}', which lasted until after dark, when it had succeeded in driv- ing in a portion of the opposing line, and held the ground. At daylight the contest was renewed between Hooker and the enemy in his front. Hooker's attack was successful for a time, but masses of the enemy, thrown upon his corps, checked it. Mansfield brought up his corps to Hook- er's support, when the two corps drove the enemy back, the gallant and distinguished veteran Mansfield losing his life in the effort. General Hooker was, unhappily, about this time wounded, and compelled to leave the field, where his services had been conspicuous and important. About an hour after this time, Sumner's corps, consisting of Sedgwick's, Richardson's, and French's divisions, arrived on the field — Richardson's some time after the other two, as he was unable to start as soon as they. Sedgwick, on the right, i)enetrated the woods in front of Hooker's and Mans- BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 537 field's troops. French and Eichardson were placed to the left of Sedgwick, thus attacking the enemy toward their left center. Crawford's and Sedgwick's lines, however, j-ielded to a destructive fire of masses of the enefny in the woods, and. Buffering greatly, (Generals Sedgwick and Crawford being among the wounded,) their troops fell back in disorder ; they, never- theless, rallied in the woods. The enemy's advance was, however, entirely checked by the destructive fire of our artillery. Franklin, who had been directed the day before to join the main army with two divisions, arrived on the field from Browns- ville about an hour after, and Smith's division replaced Crawford's and Sedg- wick's lines. Advancing steadily, it swe^t over the ground just lost, but now perma- nently retaken. The divisions of French and Richardson maintained with consider- able loss the exposed positions which they had so gallantly gained, among the wounded being General Eichardson. The condition of things (says General McClellan,) on the right, toward the mid- dle of the afternoon, notwithstanding the success wrested from the enemy by the stubborn bravery of the troops, was at this time unpromising. Sumner's, Hooker's, and Mansfield's corps had lost heavilj', several general officers having been carried from the field. I was at one time com- pelled to draw two brigades from Porter's corps (the reserve) to strengthen the right. This left for the reserve the small division of regulars who had been engaged in sup- porting during the day the batteries in the center, and a single brigade of Morell's division. The effect of Burnside's move- ment on the enemy's right was to prevent the further massing of their troops on their left, and we held what we had gained. Burnside's corps, consisting of Wilcox's, Sturgis's, and Rodman's divisions, and Cox's Kanawha division, was intrusted with the difficult task of carrying the bridge across the Antietam, near Eohr- back's farm, and assaulting the enemy's right, the order having been communicated to him at ten A. M. The valley of the Antietam, at and near the bridge, is nar- row, with high banks. On the right of the stream the bank is wooded, and com- mands the approaches both to the bridge and the ford. The steep slopes of the bank were lined with rifle-pits and breast- works of rails and stones. These, together with the woods, were filled with the enemy's infantr}', while their batteries completely commanded and enfiladed the bridge and ford and their approaches. The advance of the troops brought on an obstinate and san- guinary contest, and from the great natu- ral advantages of the position, it was nearly one o'clock before the heights ou the right bank were carried. At about three o'clock, P. M., the corps again ad- vanced, and with success, driving the enemy before it, and pushing nearly to Sharpsburg, while the left, after a hard encounter, also compelled the enemy to re- tire before it. The enemy here, however, were speedily re-enforced, and with over- whelming masses. New batteries of their artillery, also, were brought up and opened. It became evident that our force was not sufficient to enable the advance to reach the town, and the order was given to retire to the cover of the hill, which was taken from the enemj' earlier in the afternoon. Of these brilliant movements, thus so briefly referred to by General McClellan, 538 BATTLE OF AJSTTIETAM, MD. a most graphic and admirable account was furnished by Mr. Smalley, a brilliant writer and an eye-witness, for the New York Tribune, a portion of which is here transcribed. After describing the gloomy condition of the federal troops on the right at one o'clock, Mr. Smalley says • All that had been gained in front had been lost ! The enemy's batteries, which, if advanced and served vigorously, might have made sad work with the closely-massed troops, were fortunately either partially disabled or short of ammunition. Sumner was confi- dent that he could hold his own, but an- ^/(4M4u^ other advance was out of the question. The enemy, on the other hand, seemed to be too much exhausted to attack. At this crisis Franklin came up with fresh troops and formed on the left. Slocum, com- manding one division of the corps, was sent forward along the slopes lying under the first ranges of rebul hills, while Smith, commanding the other division, was or- dered to retake the cornfields and woods which all day had been so hotly contested. It was done in the handsomest style. His Maine and Vermont regiments and the rest went forward on the run, and, cheer- ing as they wont, swept like an avalanche through the cornfields, fell upon the woods, cleared them in ten minutes, and held them. They were not again retaken. The field and its ghastly harvest which the reaper had gathered in these fatal hours finally remained with ua. Four times it had been lost and won. The splendid feat of Burnside holding the hill was one of the memorable deeds on that day of earnest action. At four o'clock (says Mr. Smalley,) McClellan sent simul- taneous orders to Burnside and Franklin ; to the former to advance and carry the batteries in his front at all hazards and at any cost ; to the latter, to carry the woods next in front of him to the right, which the rebels still held. The order to Frank- lin, however, was practically counter- manded, in consequence of a message from General Sumner, that if Franklin went on and was repulsed, his own corps was not yet sufficiently reorganized to be depended on as a reserve. Burnside obeyed the order most gallantly. Getting his troops well in hand, and sending a portion of his artillery to the front, he advanced them with rapidity and the most determined vigor, straight up the hill in front, on top of which the confederates had maintained their most dangerous battery. The move- ment was in plain view of McClellan's position, and as Franklin on the other side sent his batteries into the field about the same time, the battle seemed to open in all directions with greater activity than ever. The fight in the ravine was in full progress, the batteries which Porter sup- ported were firing with new vigor, Frank- lin was blazing away on the right, and every hill-top, ridge, and piece of woods along the whole line was crested and veiled with white clouds of smoke. All day had been clear and bright since the early cloudy morning, and now this whole mag- nificent, unequaled scene, shone with the splendor of an afternoon September sun. Four miles of battle, its glory all visible, its horrors all veiled, the fate of the re- puhlic hanging on the hour — could any one be insensible to its grandeur? There are two hills on the left of the road, the furthest the lowest. The rebels have bat- teries on both. Burnside is ordered to carry the nearest to him, which is the furthest BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 539 from the road. His guns opening first from tliis new position in front, soon entirely controlled and silenced the ene- my's artillery. The infantry came on at once, moving rapidly and steadily up, long dark lines, and broad dark masses, being plainly visible without a glass as they moved over the green lull-side. Underneath was a tumult of wagons, guns, horses, and men flying at speed down the road. Blue flashes of smoke burst now and then among them, a horse or a man or a half-dozen went down, and then the whirlwind swept on. The hill was carried, but mild it be held? The rebel columns, before seen moving to the left, increased their pace. The guns, on the hill above, sent an angrj' tempest of shell down among Burnside's guns and men. He had formed his columns apparently in the near angles of two fields bordering the road — high ground about them every- where except in rear. In another mo- ment a rebel battle-line appears on the brow of the ridge above them, moves swiftly down in the most perfect order, I; and though met by incessant discharges B of musketry, of which we plainly see the flashes, does not fire a gun. White spaces show where men are falling, but they close up instantly, and still the line advances. The brigades of Burn- side are in heavy column ; the}' will not give way before a bayonet charge in line. The rebels think twice before they dash into these hostile masses. Tliere is a halt ; the rebel left gives way and scat- ters over the field; the rest stand fast and fire. More infantry comes up ; Burnside is outnumbered, flanked, com- pelled to yield the hill he took so bravely. His position is no longer one of attack; he defends himself with unfaltering firmness, but he sends to McClellan for help. McClellan's glass for the last half hour has seldom been turned away from the left. He sees clearly enough that Burnside is pressed — needs no messen- ger to tell him that. His face grows darker with anxious thought. Look- 540 BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. ing down into the valley, where fifteen thousand troops are lying, he turns a half- questioning look on Fitz John Porter, who stands hy his side, gravely scan- ning the field. They are Porter's troops below, are fresh, and only impatient to share in this fight. But Porter slowly shakes his head, and one may believe that the same thought is passing through the minds of both generals — " They are the only reserves of the army ; they cannot he spared." McClellan remounts his horse, and with Porter and a dozen officers of his staff rides away to the left in Burnside's direction. Sykes meets them on the road — a good soldier, whose opinion is worth taking. The three generals talk briefly together. It is easy to see that the moment has come when everything may turn on one order OENEKAL "STONEWALL" JACKSON. given or withheld, when the history of the battle is only to be written in thoughts and purposes and words of the General. Burnside's messenger rides up. His mes- sage is — " I want troops and guns. If you do not spare them, I cannot hold my position for half an hour." McClellan's only answer for the moment is a glance at the western sky. Then he turns and says very slowly — "Tell General Burnside that this is the battle of the tvar. He must hold his ground till dark at any cost. I will send him Miller's battery. I can do nothing more. I have no infantry." Then, as the messenger was riding away, he called liim back : " Tell him if he can not hold his ground, then the bridge to the last man ! — always the bridge ! If the bridge is lost, all is lost." The sun was already down ; not h.alf an hour of daylight was left. Till Burnside's message came, it had seemed plain to every one that the battle could not be finished to-day. None suspected how near was the peril of defeat, of sudden attack on ex- hausted forces — how vital to the safety of the army and the nation were those fifteen thousand waiting troops of Fitz John Por- ter in the hollow. But the rebels haltet? instead of pushing on ; their vindictive can nonade died awaj' as the light faded. Be fore it was quite dark, the battle was over. With the day, (says the oflicial report o'» the commanding general,) closed this memorable battle, in which, perhaps, nearly two hundred thousand men were for fourteen hours engaged in combat. We had attacked the enemy in position, driven them from their line on one flank, and secured a footing within it on the other. Under the depression of previous reverses, we had achieved a victory over an adversary invested with the prestige of former successes and inflated with a recent triumph. Our forces slept that night con- querors on a field won by their valor, and covered with the dead and wounded of the enemy. This has been called the bloodiest day that America ever saw, and the fighting was followed by the most appalling sights upon the battle-field. Never, perhaps, was the ground strewn with the bodies of the dead and the dying in greater numbers or in more shocking attitudes. The faces of those who had fallen in the battle were, after more than a day's exposure, so black that no one would ever have suspected that they were once white. All looked like negroes, and as thej'lay in piles whore they had fallen, one upon another, they filled the bystanders with a sense of horror. In the road, they lay scattered all around, and the stench which arose from the bodies decomposing in the sun was almost unendurable. Passing along the turnpike BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 541 from Sharpsburg to Hagerstown, that night, it, required the greatest care to keep one's horse from trampling upon the dead, so thickly were tiiey strewn around. Along the line for not more than a single mile, at least one thousand live hundred there lay unburied. Such a spectacle was in keeping, of course, with the terrible carnage incident to such a prolonged and constant contest between two such vast armies. The loss of the union forces in this battle was, according to General McClellan, two thou- sand and ten killed, nine thousand four hundred and sixteen wounded, and one thousand and forty-three missing; and their total loss in the battles of the 14tli and 17th amounted to fourteen thousand seven hundred and ninet3'-four. Of the confederates killed, about three thousand were buried by the unionists, and their total loss in the two battles was estimated by General McClellan at four thousand killed, eighteen thousand seven hundred and forty-two wounded, and five thousand prisoners, besides stragglers sufficient to make the number amount to some thirty thousand. From the time the union troops first encountered the confederates in Maryland until the latter were driven back into Virginia, (says McClellan,) we cap- tured thirteen guns, seven caissons, nine limbers, two field forges, two caisson bod- ies, thirty-nine colors, and one signal flag; the union army lost neither gun nor color. The confederates also lost three of their bravest generals, Starke, Branch, and Anderson. General Reno's death was a severe blow to the union army. He had been most active all daj-, fearing no danger, and appearing to be everywhere at the same time. Safe ujj to seven o'clock, no one dreamed of such a disaster as was to hap- pen. He, with his staff, was standing a little back of the wood, on a field, the con- federate forces being directly in front. A body of his troops were just before him, and at this point the fire of the confeder- ates was directed. A minie-ball struck him and went through his body. He fell, and, from the first, appeared to have a knowledge that he could not survive the wound he had received. He was instantly carried, with the greatest care, to the rear, followed b^' a number of the officers, and attended by the division surgeon. Doctor Cutter. At the foot of the hill he was laid under a tree ; he died without the least movement, a few minutes after. The grief of the oflicers at this calamity was heart-rending. The old soldier, just come from the scene of carnage, with death star- ing him in the face on every side, here knelt and wept like a child ; indeed, no eye was dry among those present. Thus died one of the bravest generals that was in the service of his country, and the intel- ligence of his death was received by all with the greatest sorrow, as it was well known that but few could take the place of so able and brave an officer. The com- mand of the corps devolved upon General Cox, who, from that time, directed the movements of the army. The fighting qualities of the southern soldiers, in this battle, may be judged of by the fact that the Fiftieth Georgia regi- ment lost nearly all their commissioned officers, and that at night, after the battle, only fifty-five men, of the whole regiment, remained fit for duty,— nor did they have anything to eat and drink for more than forty-eight hours. This regiment was posted in a narrow path, washed out into a regular gully, and was fired into by the 542 BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. unionists from the front, the rear and left flank. The men stood their ground un- waveringly, returning fire until nearly two-thirds of their number lay dead or wounded in that lane. Out of two hun- dred and ten carried into the fight, over one hundred and twenty-five were killed and wounded in less than twenty minutes. The slaughter was horrible. When or- dered to retreat, the living could scarcely extricate themselves from the dead and wounded lying around — a man could have walked from the head of the line to the foot on their bodies. The survivors of the regiment retreated very orderly back to where General Anderson's brigade rested. The brigade suffered terribly. James's South Carolina battalion was nearly anni- hilated. There were not wanting also, inciaents of that class which show the qualities of ludicrousness and cunning in human na- ture, as, for instance, the following : The New York One Hundred and Sev- enth regiment supported Cotheren's bat- tery ; and, during the hottest part of the fight, the confederates massed themselves opposite the union front, for an assault on Cotheren's position. The battery was short of ammunition, and so reserved their fire, while throughout the whole field there came a lull in the tumult. The confeder- ates advanced in a solid mass, with a pre- cision of movement perfectly beautiful. It was a moment which tried the nerves of the bravest. In the meantime, one of the lads, — a noted sporting character — becom- ing quite interested in the affair, had climbed a rock where he could view the whole scene. He occupied the place, un- mindful of the bullets which were buzzing like bees all around. The confederates came on until the unionists could see their faces, and then Cotheren poured the canis- ter into them. The advancing column was literally torn to pieces by the fire. At this, the lad on the rock became almost frantic in his demonstrations of delight, and as one of the battery sections sent a shrapnel which mowed down in an instant a long row of confederates, he swung his cap, and, in a voice that could be heard by the flying enemy, shouted out, " Bull-e-e- e-e ! Set 'em ujd on the other alley ! " General Sumner had a son, a captain on his staff, who was but twenty-one years of age. During the battle, when the bullets were whistling around the general's ears, he found it necessary to send the young man upon a mission of duty to a certain portion of the field. After giving him the requisite instructions, the general em- braced him and said, " Good-by, Sammy." " Good-by, father," was the response, and the captain rode forth upon his mission. On his return from his perilous errand, the fond father grasped his hand, with the simple remark, "How d'ye do, Sammy?" Tlio spectators of this filial scene were much affected. A union soldier belonging to a New York regiment was wounded in the should- ers. After dark, missing his regiment, he became lost in the woods, and went in the direction of the enemy. Seeing a party of men ahead, he called out, " What regiment do you belong to ? " They answered, " The Third South Carolina. What do you belong to ? " " The Tenth Virginia," was the ready and apt reply ; saying which, he moved off in the opposite direction, and soon joined some union soldiers. His wits saved him. The report of this battle by Mr. Smal- ley, in the New York Tribune, was pro- nounced by General Hooker, in a conver- sation with Mr. George Wilkes (himself an accomplished journalist), a perfect repro- duction of the scene and all its incidents. In reply to a question by Mr. Wilkes, if he know who the Tribune reporter was, General Hooker said : " I saw him first upon the battle-field, when we were in the hottest portion of the fight, early in the morning. My attention was then attracted to a civilian, who sat upon bis horse, in advance of my whole staff ; aud though he was in the hottest of the fire, and the shot and shell were striking and sputtering around us like so much hail, he sat gazing on the strife as steady and undisturbed as if he were in a quiet theater, looking at a BATTLE OF AISTTIETAM, MD. 543 scene upon the stage. In all the experi- ence which I have had of war, I never saw the most experienced and veteran soldier exhibit more tranquil fortitude and un- shaken valor than was exhibited by that young man. I was concerned at the need- less risk which he invited, and told one of my aids to order him in our rear. Pres- ently, all my aids had left me, on one serv- ice and another ; whereupon, turning to give an order, I found no one but this young stranger at my side. I then asked him if he would oblige me by bearing a dispatch to General McClellan, and by acting as my aid, until some of my staff should com<:< up. He rode off with alacrity, through a most exposed position, returned with the answer, and served me as an aid through the remainder of the tight, till I was carried from the ground." " His name, General ?" asked Mr. Wilkes. "He was a young man, recently from college, named George W. Smalley, and I am writing to him now." No one will regard General Hooker's opin- ion of Mr. Smalley as any too high. Similar, too, in descriptive ability and power, was the war correspondence of such men as Knox, Richardson, Conying- ham. Coffin, Browne, Taylor, Bickham, Crounse, Colburn, Davis, Beid, and some others. LXVI. PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEAS- URE, BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN— 1 863, More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important Amer- ican State Paper Since July 4th, 1776 — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great Event of the Nineteenth Century." — The VVIiole System ot' Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Vic- tories in tlie Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's Views on Slavery. — Opposed to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — Alarming Progress ol" Events. — The Great Exigency at Last — Slavery versus the Union. — Solemn and Urgent Alternative — Emancipation Under the War Power. — Preparation of the Great Document, — Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opinions and Discussions — Singular Keason for Delay. — Mr. Lin- coln's Vow to God. — Waiting for a Union Triumph. — Deciiied by the liatlle of Antietam. — Final Adoption of the Measure. — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Keception of the Procla- mation. — Proinulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement Added to Freedom. " Ami iipxn this act, sincerely believed to be an act of juatice. warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I InTolce theeon- BMlerate judguiuut of mankind, and ttie gracious favor of Almigtity God."— Tue PBoci.AUATloif. EALOUSLY cherishing the humane personal wish, " that all men every- where might be free," — as expressed by himself in one of his most mem- orable political letters, — and inflexibly objecting to the introduction of slavery into the new national territories, President Lincoln, nevertheless, on every occasion avowed his opposition to all unconstitutional meas- ures of interference with that system, as it existed in the States of the South. Only under the stupendous exigency precipitated upon him and upon the country, by the war inaugurated at Fort Sumter, and now carried on with such direful loss of blood and treasure for two long years, for the destruction of the Union, did he avail himself of the high and solemn prerogative of his position, as the sworn protector and defender of the nation, to decree, substantially, the utter extinction of slavery throughout all the borders of the land. It was a war measure, done " upon military necessity," and in the grave performance of which President Lincoln said :" I could not feel that, to the best of my ability, I had even tried to preserve the Constitu- tion, if, to preserve slavery, or any minor matter, I should permit the wreck of government, country, and constitution altogether. V/hen, early in the war, General rremont attempted military emancipation, I forbade it, because I did not then think it an indispensable necessity. When, a little later. General Cameron, then secretary of war, suggested the arm- ing of the blacks, I objected, because I did not yet think it an indispen- sable necessity. When, still inter. General Hunter attempted military PEOCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 545 emancipation, I again forbade it, because I did not yet think the indispensable necessity had come. When, in March and May and July, 1862, I made earnest and successive appeals to the border states to favor compensated emancipation, I believed the indispensable necessity for military emancipation and arming the blacks would come, unless averted by that measure. They declined the proposition; and I was, in my best judgment, driven to the alternative of either surrendering the Union, and with it the Constitution, or of laying strong hand upon the colored ele- ment. I chose the latter." It will thus be seen that, so far from being rash or aggressive in his anti-slavery policy, he favored no step in that direction, until driven to it as a last and remediless alter- native, from which there seemed no possi- ble escape. Singularly enough, this great measure involving as mighty a moral, social, and political revolution as was ever accom- plished in any age or in any country— was distinctly expounded and foreshadowed by John Quincy Adams, in a remarkable debate which took place in the lower house of congress, in 1842, and in the course of which he said : " I believe that, so long as the slave states are able to sustain their institutions, without going abroad or call- ing upon other parts of the Union to aid them or act on the subject, so long I will consent never to interfere. I have said this ; and I repeat it ; but, if they come tc the free states and say to them, ' You must help us to keep down our slaves, you must aid us in an insurrection and a civil war,' then I say that, with that call, comes a full and plenary power to this house, and to the senate, over the whole subject. It is a war power; I say it is a war power; and when your country is actually in war, whether it be a war of invasion or a war of insurrection, congress has power to carry on the war, and must carry it on according to the laws of war ; and, by the laws of war, an invaded country has all its laws and municipal institutions swept by the board, and martial law takes the place of them. This power in congress has, perhaps, never been called into exercise under the present constitution of the United States. But, when the laws of war are in force, what, I ask, is one of those laws ? It is this : that when a country is invaded, and two hostile armies are set in martial array, the commanders of both armies have power to emancipate all the slaves in the invaded territory." In proof of the correctness of his assertion, Mr. Adams cited the well- known historical case of the abolition of slavery in Colombia, first by Murillo, the Spanish general, and subsequently by Bolivar, the American general, in each case as a military act, and observed and main- tained to this day. Though the great American Proclamar tion of Emancipation did not appear until January 1, 1863, President Lincoln's mind had for some months previously been drift- ing in the direction of some such act. As he himself expressed it, everything was going wrong— the nation seemed to liave put forth about its utmost efforts, and he really didn't know what more to do, unless he did this. Accordingly, he prepared a pre- liminary proclamation, nearly in the form in which it subsequently appeared, called the cabinet together, and n ■ !' m, with the following result, as repor Mr. Montgomery Blair -d. " If you issue that proclama es- ident," he exclaimed, "you all )o,- ry one of the fall elections." 016 PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION Mr Seward, on the other hand, said, " I apiiriive of it, Mr. President, just as it stands. I approve of it in principle, and I approve the policy of issuing it. I onl}' object to the time. Send it out now, on the heels of our late disasters, and it will be construed as the convulsive struggle of a drowning man. To give it proper weight, you should reserve it until after some vic- tory." The president assented to Mr. Seward's view, and held the document in reserve. It appeared to the president, that Mr. Seward's opinion was of great wisdom and force. Perhaps no account of this most memo- rable event can he said to equal, in relia- bility and graphic interest, that which is furnished by Mr. F. B. Carpenter, in his reminiscences of " Six Months at the White House," while employed there in Cq_(xkxk-#^iAa "^Xa/^ \jO'\/<>^ executing that unrivaled masterpiece of American historical painting — the Procla- 111 ition of Emancipation — which, by uni- versal consent, has placed Mr. Carpenter's name second to none on the roll of eminent modern artists. Enjoying, too, as he did, the most intimate personal relations with the autlior of that proclamation, the infor- mation which lie thus obtained from the president's own lips, as to its origin, dis- cussion, and final adoption, must forever be the source from which, on this subject, all historians must draw. As already stated, the opinion of the secretary of state in regard to the effect of issuing such a proclamation at such a time, impressed Mr. Lincoln verj' strongly. " It was an- aspect of the case that" — said President Lincoln to Mr. Carpenter, — " in all my thought upon the subject, I had entirely overlooked. The result was that I put the draft of the proclamation aside, as j-ou do your sketch for a picture, wait- ing for a victory. From time to time I added or changed a line, touching it up here and there, anxiously watching the progress of events. Well, the next news we had was of Pope's disaster at Bull Run. Things looked darker than ever. Finally, came the week of the battle of Antietam. I determined to wait no longer. The news came, I think, on Wednesday, that the advantage was on our side. I was then staying at the Soldiers' Home (three miles out of Washington). Here I fin- ished writing the second draft of the pre- liminary proclamation ; came up on Sat- urday ; called the cabinet together to hear it, and it was published the following Monday." At the final meeting of Sep- tember 20th, another incident occurred in connection with Secretary Seward. The president had written the important part of the proclamation in these words : — " That, on the first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever Fkee ; and the Executive Govern- ment of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recof)nize the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such per- sons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom." " When I finished reading this para- graph," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "Mr. Seward stopped me, and said, ' I think, Mr. Presi- dent, that you should insert after the word " recognize," in that sentence, the worda " and maintain." ' I replied that I had alreadj' considered the import of that ex- PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 547 pression in this connection, but I had not introduced it, because it was not my way to promise what I was not entirely sure tliat I could perform, and I was' not pre- pared to say that I thought we were exactly able to ' maintain ' this. But Seward insisted that we ought to take this ground, and the words finally went in. It IS a somewhat remarkable fact," he subse- quently added, " that there were just one hundred days between the dates of the two proclamations issued upon tlie 22d of Sep- tember and the 1st of January." bany, N. Y., in 1864 ; it is in the proper handwriting of Mr. Lincoln, excepting two interlineations in pencil, by Secretary Seward, and the formal heading and end- ing, which were written by the chief clerk of the state department. The final proc- lamation was signed on New Year's Day, 1863. The president remarked to Mr. Colfax, the same evening, that the signa- ture appeared somewhat tremulous and uneven. " Not," said he, " because of any uncertainty or hesitation on my part ; but it was just after the public reception, and The original draft of the proclamation was written upon one side of four half- sheets or official foolscap. " He flung down upon the table one day for me," continues Mr. Carpenter, " several sheets of the" same, saying, ' There, I believe, is some of the very paper which was used — if not, it was, at any rate just like it.' " The original draft is dated September 22, 1862, and was pre- sented to the Army Relief Bazaar, at Al- three hours' hand-shaking is not calculated to improve a man's chirography." Then changing his tone, he added : " The south had fair warning, that if they did not return to their duty, I should strike at this pillar of their strength. The promise must now be kept, and I shall never recall one word." In answer to a question from Mr. Car- penter, as to whether the policy of eman- 548 PROCLAiLlTION OF E.MA2s'CIPATI0y. cipation was not opposed by some mem- bers of the cabinet, the president replied : '•Nothing more than I have stated to yoiu Mr. Blair thought we should lose the fall elections, and opposed it on that ground only.'' " I have understood,"' said Mr. Carpenter, " that Secretary Smith was not in favor of your action. 3Ir. Blair told me that, when the meeting closed, he and the secretary of the interior went away to- gether, and that the latter said to him, that if the president carried out that pol- icy, he might count on losing Indiana, sure ! "' '• He never said anything of the kind to me," responded the president '• And what is ilr. Blair's opinion now ? •'' I asked. '-'Oh,"' was the prompt reply, '•■ he proved right in regard to the fall elec- tions, but he is satisfied that we have since gained more than we lost." " I have been told," I added, " that Judge Bates doubted the constitutionality of the proclamation." "He never expressed such an opinion in my hearing," replied Mr. Lincoln; "no member of the cabinet ever dissented from the policy, in conversation with me." It is well known that the statement found very general currency and credence, that, on the proclamation having been read to the cabinet. Secretary Chase ob- jected to the appearance of a document of such momentous character without one word beyond the dry phrases necessary to convey its meaning, and finally proposed that there should be added to the presi- dent's draft, the sentence — 'And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of jus- tice, warranted by the constitution, I invoke the considerate judgment of man- kind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God.' The facts of the case, however, as learned by Mr. Carpenter were these : While the measure was pending, Mr. Chase submitted to the president a draft of a proclamation embodving his views of the subject, and which closed with the solemn and appropriate words referred to. Mr. Lincoln adopted the sentence intact, as Mr. Chase wrote it, excepting that he inserted after the word ' constitution,' the words ' upon military necessity ; ' and in that form the document went to the world, ana to history. ilr. Carpenter also makes an interesting statement touching the religious aspect of ilr. Lincoln's mind, concerning this mo- mentous matter, as follows : Mr. Chase told me that at the cabinet meeting, imme- diately after the battle of Antietam, and just prior to the September proclamation, the president entered upon the business before them, by saying that "the time for the annunciation of the emancipation policy could be no longer delayed. Public sentiment," he thought, "would sustain it — many of his warmest friends and sup- porters demanded it — and he had prom- ised his God that he would do it!" The last part of this was uttered in a low tone, and appeared to be heard by no one but Secretary Chase, who was sitting near him. He asked the president if he had correctly understood him. ilr. Lincoln replied : " I made a solemn vow before God, that if General Lee was driven back from Pennsylvania, I would crown the resvdt by the declaration of freedom to the slaves." In February, 1865, a few days after the passage of the Constitutional Amendment, Mr. Carpenter went to "Wash- ington, and was received by Mr. Lincoln with the kindness and familiarity which had characterized their previous inter- course. I said to him at this time, (says Mr. Carpenter.) that I was very proud to have been the artist to have first conceived the design of painting a picture commem- orative of the Act of Emancipation ; that subsequent occurrences had only confirmed my own first judgment of that act as the most sublime moral event in our history. " Yes," said he, — and never do I remem- ber to have noticed in him more earnest- ness of expression or manner, — '• as affairs have turned, it is the central act of my administration, and the great event of the nineteenth century.''' The scope of this most important state paper ever issued since the Declaration of Independence, was, to give liberty to more than three mUlions of people, — a number equal to the whole population of the PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION 649 650 PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. United States when the revohitionary struggle with Great Britain commenced, and about four-fifths of the whole slave population. The work of emancipation throughout all the borders of the land was completed by victories in the field, and the adoption of the Constitutional Amendment, Article XIII., by which slavery was for- ever and entirely swept from the Republic. The reception of the proclamation by the millions who were ranged on the side of their country, praying and fighting for the success of the union cause, was warm and enthusiastic, the feeling being almost universally prevalent that the nation had entered upon a new and auspicious era, and that, under such a banner, heaven would crown our armies with victory, and give perpetuity to our republic among the governments of the earth. Generally, the great document was the theme of earnest and eloquent discourses from the northern pulpits, the current of the preachers' thoughts showing itself in the various sub- jects or titles under which the event was discussed, such as ' The Conflict between Despotism and Liberty,' 'The duty of uniting with our whole energies in execut- ing the Emancipation Edict of the presi- dent, to accomplish, by the blessing of God, its beneficent results, without possi- bility of failure,' ' The Jubilee of Free- dom,' 'The Influence of Christianity on the Abolition of Slavery,' — these, though but a few among thousands elicited by the proclamation, indicate the hearty appreci- ation of President Lincoln's course in issu- ing the decree. From countless pulpits, too, the momentous document was simply read, without comment. Great public meetings of congratulation and rejoicing were held in almost every large town and city in tlie various north- ern states. At the Cooper Institute, New York, a grand jubilee came off, the colored people of that city and of the surrounding towns for many miles, g.athering together to do honor to so great a boon to their race. The large hall was completely packed, long before the hour at which the proceedings were appointed to take place. and multitudes had to be turned away from the feast of eloquence and music which was there enjoyed for several hours. Two days after the issue of the procla- mation, a large body of people assembled before the White House, in Washington, with a band of music, and called for the president. He appeared, and made an address of thanks to them for their cour- tesy, in which, alluding to the proclama- tion, he said, " What I did, I did after a very full deliberation, and under a heavy and solemn sense of responsibility. I can only trust in God I have made no mis- take." From the colored people of Balti- more, Mr. Lincoln was the recipient of a superb copy of the Bible, of the largest size, and bound in violet-colored velvet. The corners were bands of solid gold, and the event carved upon a plate also of gold, not less than one-fourth of an inch thick. Upon the left-hand cover, was a design representing the president in a cotton- field, knocking the shackles off the wrists of a slave, who held one hand aloft as if in- voking blessings upon the head of his ben- efactor, — at whose feet was a scrcll upon which was written " Emancipation ; " upon the other cover was a similar plate, bear- ing the inscription : " To Abraham Lin- coln, President of the United States, the friend of Universal Freedom. From the loyal colored people of Baltimore, as a token of respect and gratitude. Baltimore, July 4, 1864." But the greatest interest necessarily attaches to the reception which such an amazing document met with on the part of those who were or had recently been slaves. Although by the terms of the proclamation, the cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth, Va., were excluded from its operation, the slaves fully believed that 'Massa Lincoln' had emancipated them all; with this view, they refused to work with- out wages, and, their former masters ac- ceding to this, virtual emancipation was the result in that region. On New Year's day, the slaves of Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Gosport, with the African strangers gathered there, to the number of some PROCLAMATION OF EMAI^CIPATION. 551 thousands, turned out en masse, and by processions, speeches, hymns and songs of jubihxtion, and bj' other demonstrations, celebrated what was ever afterward to be their Fourth of July. The exultation of the slaves was great, and many a notice- able incident presented itself. "Massa," said an old woman to a stranger near by, " I have had twenty children. My Massa and Missus sole 'em all off ; one of my gals was sole to buy young Missus her piano. I used to stop my ears when I heard her play on dat ar; I thought I heard my chile a crying out dat it was bought wid her blood. Dey was all sole off, — I'se not got one left to bury me. But I'se free ! and my ole heart is glad agin. I'll go happy to my grave." In one of the colored churches in Norfolk, the preacher took for his text, " Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ has made j'ou free," and with great inge- nuity, and without irreverence, the preacher showed how President Lincoln, in emancipating them, had stood in Christ's stead to them, and how it was now their duty to stand fast, and fight for the liberty which he, under God, had given them. Singular enough, there rose from the whole congregation a cry, as if with one voice, "Amen ! glory be to God ! we'll fight till de cows' tails drop off! " In the Department of the South, em- bracing Port Eoyal, S. C, and other islands, it was very difficult to convince the colored people that they were free, and that the government, or Yankees, could be in earnest. Christmas was to most of them a sad day. General Saxton, there- fore, who spared no effort to disabuse their minds and inspire them with confi- dence, issued his proclamation inviting the people to assemble at the head-quarters of the First South Carolina Volunteers, on the first of January. Missionaries, min- isters, superintendents and teachers, offi- cers and privates, joined heartily in the gathering. The word went out far and near, but the people were suspicious. Mischievous onos had told them it was a trap to fores them into the army ; others that they were to be collected on steam- boats that would run them to Cuba ; oth- ers that they were to be got away from their homes and sent into exile. But, at an early hour of the sublimely beautiful day, the people began to arrive at the camping-ground, and, despite their fears, thousands were there. The proceedings opened with prayer and music, after which, Judge Brisbane, of Wisconsin, but a son of South Carolina who, twenty-five years previously, set all his slaves free, read the emancipation act amidst the jubilant shouts of the vast multitude ; and when, succeeding this, the proclamation of Gen- eral Saxton was read, declaring that the great act should be enforced, twelve deaf- ening cheers burst forth from the thou- sands of grateful and joyous hearts to whom the good tidings of liberty and pro- tection had thus come. An original ode was then sung to the tune of ' Scots wha' ha' wi' Wallace bled," and then came the crowning feature of the day, the presenta- tion by the Rev. Mr. French of a splendid silk flag, with the embroidered inscription: " To the First South Carolina Regiment. The year of jubilee has come." It was a very elegant flag, a gift from Doctor Cheever's church in the city of New York. As it passed from the hands of Mr. French, the negroes struck up the national air, " My country, 'tis of thee," with fine effect. Colonel Higginson, who had received the flag, stood waiting his time to reply, with the golden tassels in his hands. After an eloquent speech by the colonel, he called the sergeant of Com- pany A, "Prince Rivers," and a corporal of another companj', named Sutton, both black men, and, handing over the flag which had been presented, called upon both to speak, which they did with great acceptance. Other exercites of rejoicing took place, and then attention was paid to the physical wants of the happy throng. For this purpose, ten beeves had been slaughtered and were roasting in their pits ; and these, with several hundred gal- lons of molasses and water, — a favorite beverage of the negroes, — and a full supply 552 PEOCLAMATION OF EMAI^CIPATION. of hard bread, awaited the hungry expect- ants. Thus ended the grand celebration of the emancipation of the slaves of South Carolina. The observance of the event in other parts of the south, wherever the authority of the union forces was present to permit it, was so similar in its character and enthusiasm to what has already been nar- rated, that it is unnecessary here to extend the descriptions. By the army and its officers, with here and there an exception, the proclamation was regarded as an act to which things Iiad long been tending, and which, under the circumstances of peril in which the union had so long been placed, was inevitable. Of course, no such proc- lamation, in time of war, could have any weight in the section of country at which it was aimed, excepting as the union mili- tary successes made it effective. Those successes in due time reached every por- tion of the south, and the fetters of every bondman on American soil were thus broken. Congress subsequently passed an amendment to the constitution, forever prohibiting slavery in any portion of the republic, and this amendment, on being ratified by the requisite number of states, became a part of the organic law of the land. The original draft of the emancipation proclamation, in the president's handwrit- ing, was presented by Mr. Lincoln to the great Northwestern Sanitary Fair, held at Chicago, in the autumn of 18C3. The fol- lowing letter accompanied the gift: Executive IMansion, Washington, October 26, 1863. To the Ladies having in charge the Northwestern Fair for the Sanitary Com- mission, Chicago, Illinois: — According to the request made in your behalf, the original draft of the emancipa- tion proclamation is herewith enclosed. The formal words at the top, and the con- clusion, except the signature, j'ou perceive, are not in my handwriting. They were written at the State Department, by whom I know not. The printed part was cut from a copy of the preliminary proclama^ tion and pasted on, merely to save writing. I had some desire to retain the paper; but if it shall contribute to the relief or comfort of the soldier, that will be better. Your obedient servant, A. Lincoln. This chief treasure of that great fair was purchased for three thousand dollars, by the Hon. Thomas B. Bryan, for the Chi- cago Soldiers' Home, of which he was president. Lithographic copies of the doc- ument were also sold for the benefit of the same institution, and netted it thousands of dollars. One of the most important results of this great measure, whether considered from a moral, political, or social point of view, was the Fifteenth Amendment to the Con- stitution of the United States, by which all citizens were made equal before the law. It was on the twenty-seventh of Febru- ary, 1869, that congress passed a resolu- tion in the following words: A resolution proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States. liesolved, By the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America, in Congress assembled, two- thirds of both Houses concurring, that the following article be proposed to the legis- latures of the several States as an amend- ment to the Constitution of the United States, which, wlien ratified by three- fourths of the said legislatures, shall be valid as a part of the Constitution, namely: — Article 15, Section 1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States, or by any State, on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude. Section 2. Congress sb'll have power to enforce this article by appropriate legisla- tion. In about one year's time from the pas- sage of this resolution, proclamation was made by the secretary of state. Hon. Ham- ilton Fish, that the proposed amendment had been ratified by the legislatures of the PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 553 states of North Carolina, West Virginia, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Maine, Louisi- ana, Michigan, South Carolina, Pennsj-1- vania, Arkansas, Connectii'ut, Florida, Illinois, Indiana, New York, New Hamp- shire, Nevada, Vermont, Virginia, Ala- bama, Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Rhode Island, Ne- braska, and Texas, — twenty-nine in all, and constituting three-fourths of the whole number of states, and thus becoming valid, to all intents and purposes, as a part of the constitution of the United States. Though not obligatory, as an executive duty. President Grant communicated the fact of the ratification to congress, in a special message, on the thirtieth of March, 1870. "The measure" — said the presi- dent — " which makes at once four millions of the people voters who were heretofore declared by the highest tribunal in the land not citizens of the United States, nor eligible to become so, with the assertion tjat at the time of the Declaration of In- dependence the opinion was fixed and uni- versal in the civilized portion of the white race, and regarded as an axiom in morals as well as in politics, that black men had no rights which white men were bound to respect, is, indeed, a measure of grander importance than any other one act of the kind from the foundation of our free gov- ernment to the present time. Institutions like ours, in which all power is derived directly from the people, must depend mainly upon their intelligence, patriotism, and industry. I call the attention, there- fore, of the newly enfranchised race to the importance of their striving, in every hon- orable manner, to make themselves worthy of their new privilege. To a race more favored heretofore by our laws, I would say, withhold no legal privilege of advance- ment to the new citizens." So great an event was not suffered to pass without pub- lic demonstrations of joy commensurate with its grand, beneficent, and elevating scope, in almost all parts of the country. LXVII. CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG, "THE GIBRALTAR OF THE MISSISSIPPI," BY THE UNION FORCES.— 1863. The Genius, Valor, ami Resources o£ Both Armies Tasked to their Utmost. — Final Capitulation of the Citv hv General Pemherton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege. — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the Seoession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. — Thirty-seven Thousand Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for Si.xty Thousand Men, the Trophies. — Geograph- ical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications — Farragut's Naval Siege Powerless — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command. — Vigorous Operations Undertaken. — His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm Vickslmrg — Hours of Terrific Can- nonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough Investment at all Points — Federal Sapping and Mining. — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. — Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Strug- gle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois — Their Colors Surmount tlie Work. — Pemher- ton Sends a Flag of Truce. — His Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms: "Unconditional Surrender." — The Victors Enter the City, July 4th. — Curious Reminiscences. " No thought nf fiich.. None of retrrnt, no iinbecominL' dpfd Thatarirued f<-ur ; eafh one hiinm-U relied A-'onlTinnia urm the Uiouieut lay Of Victory 1 " OPERATIONS AT TICKSBCRG. nU.-VVES, infantry, cavalry, artillery, — offi- cers and privates, — picket, scout, andsjJj, — brave legions, led on by brave generals of heroic purpose to noblest deeds, — won glo- rious honor to American arms, and to the more sacred cause of the American Union, y the capture of the city of Vicksburg, the stronghold of Mississippi, with all its defenses and munitions, and its valorous army ; — an event which, occurring on the fourth of Jul}', filled the hearts of all loj'al Americans with peculiar joy, while it was confessedly the heaviest and most disastrous military blow which the confederate cause had yet received during the two long j-ears of most eventful struggle. Situated on the Mississippi river, on a com- manding elevation, four hundred miles above New Orleans, and fifty miles west of Jackson, it was the most important point on the river between Natchez and Memphis, and, at an early day, was strongly fortified by the confeder- ate authorities of the state, forts being erected and abundance of artillery supplied. More than a year before the final CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG. 555 eapitnlation of the place under General Femberton to General Grant, the union forces laid siege to the city, and Farragut demanded the surrender of the forts ; the silencing of the confederate batteries at Grand Gulf, was among the earlier opera- tions of the union gun-boats, which also shelled the city for several weeks. Farra- gut raised the naval siege, July 24, 1862. General Grant had taken command of the union army in that quarter in June, of the same year, and, in December, organized his army into four grand corps, — the Thir- teenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven- teenth, commanded respectively by Gen- erals McClernand, Sherman, Hurlbut, and McPherson. At the close of this month, Sherman started from Memphis, passed down the Mississippi to the mouth of the Yazoo, some ten miles above Vicksburg, and ascending that river, advanced upon Vicksburg on the north side, but, after three days of severe fighting, was com- pelled to retire with heavy loss. For a time, the attack on the city was abandoned as futile. Early in February, 1863, General Grant arrived and assumed active personal com- mand of military operations, which he con- ducted with great tact and vigor, succes- sively defeating his opponents in engage- ments at Port Gibson, Fourteen Mile Greek, Raymond, Jackson, Champion's Hill, and Big Black Bridge. The naval forces co-operating in these movements were under the efficient direction of Ad- mirals Farragut and Porter. After thoroughly investing the city on all sides, the union troops forming a semi- circle, with both flanks resting on the river, an unsuccessful assault was made, May 23d, by the combined land and naval forces. The attack was a terrible one. According to the correspondent of the Chi- cago Tribune, it was characterized by the following incidents: During the night, the gun-boats and mortars lying in front of the city kept up a continual fire, and dropped their fiery messengers right and left without distinction. During this bom- bardment several buildings were set on fire by the exploding shells, and lighted up the darkness, revealing strange shapes and wonderful outlines, standing out in relief against the dark sky, which added wonderful interest to the bombardment as witnessed by the distant observer. It ia impossible to estimate the damage occa- sioned by thus dropping into Vicksburg those heavy eleven and thirteen inch shells. Imagination falls far short of its reality. Before the union forces approached the city, General Pemberton ordered all the women and children for miles around Vicksburg to go within the intrenchments, assuring them that in that way they would escajie all danger. The consequence was, that there were a large number of non- combatants in the city, exposed to all the dangers of siege and bombardment. At eight o'clock in the morning the cannon- ading began, and continued, with scarcely a moment's intermission, along the entire line, until ten o'clock. From every hill- top in front of the confederate works, cannon were belching forth, and the fiery tempest raged fearfully. Guns were dis- mounted, embrasures torn up, parapets destroyed, and caissons exploded. It was a fearful demonstration. For two long hours did this cannonade continue, when a general charge was made. Winding through the vallej's, clambering over the hills everywhere, subjected to a murder- ous enfilading and cross-fire, the advance pressed up close to the confederate works — to find that a deep ditch, protected by sharp stakes along the outer edge, lay between them and the intrenchments. They planted their flag directly before the fort, and crouched down behind the em- bankment, out of range c? Hie confederate fire, as calmly as possible, to await devel- opments. The soldiers within the forts could not rise above the parapet to fire at them, for if they did, a hundred bullets went whizzing through the air, and the adventurers died. The confederates, how- ever, adopted another plan ; taking a shell, they cut the fuse close off, lighted it, and rolled it over the outer slope of the em- bankment. Subsequently, with picks and _; 556 CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG. shovels, a way \i'.is dug into one fort, and through the breach the boys walked bravely in. The first fort on the left of the railroad was stormed by a portion of General Carr's division, and gallantly taken ; the colonel that led the charge was wounded. On the center the fire was per- sistent and terrible. Many brave ofiicers were killed and many more wounded. Colonel Dollins, of the Eightj'-first Illinois, fell dead while leading his men to the charge. Later in the afternoon, General Ransom's brigade charged the works oppo- site his position, with heavy loss. Steele and Tattle, on the right, were also vigor- ously engaged, the loss sustained by the former being ccasiderable. GENERAL J. C. PEMBERTON. The result of this assault rendered it quite certain that Vicksburg could not be taken by storm, and every possible appli- ance was immediately put into requisition by General Grant to accomplish his pur- pose by sj'stematic siege, and sappers and miners performed an important part in this great undertaking. The details of this kind of work are well understood by all, and need not be repeated here. Suf- fice it to say, that one of the principal con- federate forts was soon reached by this subterranean process, — the miners keeping incessantly busy, day and night, until they arrived far under the confederate fortifica- tions, and within such near proximity to the enemy, that the picks and shovels of the latter, similarly engaged in the bowels of the earth, could frequently be heard, — necessitating, above all things, incessant wariness and the utmost possible expedi- tion. How the matter was carried through, the following account, made up from the admirable dispatches of Messrs. Keim and Fitzpatrick, of the New York Herald, will abundantly show : On the morning of June 25th, the work of mining (says Mr. Fitzpatrick,) was com- pleted, an immense quantity of gunpowder was stored in the cavity prepared to re- ceive it, and the fuse train was laid. At noon, the different regiments of the Sev- enteenth corps, selected to make the assault on the breach when it should have been effected, were marshaled in long lines upon the near slopes of the hills immedi- ately confronting the doomed fortifications, where, disposed for the attack, imj)atiently awaited the event. The confederates seemed to have discovered that some move- ment was on foot, for, from the moment the federal troops came into position, until the explosion took place, their sharpshoot- ers kept up an incessant fire from the whole line of their works. At length all was in readiness ; the fuse train was fired, find it went fizzing and popping through the zigzag line of trenches, until for a moment it vanished. Its disappearance was quickly succeeded by the explosion, and the mine under Fort Hill was sprung. So terrible a spectacle is seldom ivitnessed. Dust, dirt, smoke, gabions, stockades, timber, gun-carriages, logs — in fact, everything connected with the fort — rose hundreds of feet into the air, as if vomited forth from a volcano. It is described by all who saw it as an awful scene. No sooner had the explosion taken place (writes Mr. Keim), than the two detach- ments acting as the forlorn hojje ran into the fort and sap. A brisk musketry fire at once commenced between the two par- ties, with about equal effect on either side. No sooner had these detachments become well engaged than the rest of Leggett's brig.ade joined them and entered into the struggle. The regiments relieving each other at intervals, the contest now grew CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBUEG. 557 severe, both sides, determined upon holding their own, were doing their best. Volley after volley was fired, though with less car- nage than would be supposed. The Forty- fifth Illinois now charged immediately up to the crest of the parapet, and here suffered its heaviest, losing many officers in the assault. After a severe contest of half an hour, with varying results, the flag of the Forty-fifth appeared vpon the summit of the work ! The position was gained. Cheer after chepr broke through the confusion and uproar of the contest, assuring the troops everywhere along the line that the Forty-fifth was still itself. The colonel was now left alone in command of the regiment, and he was himself badly bruised by a flying splinter. The regi- ment had also suffered severely in the line, and the troops were worn out by excessive heat and hard fighting. Belief was nec- essary. Accordingly, another Illinois reg- iment wag ordered up, and the Forty-fifth drawn off; this was at six o'clock p. m. After this, the action was kept up briskly but steadily for several hours, until dusk, when the firing lulled and the men took a respite. While the Forty-fifth was so hotly engaged in the fort, the Twenty-third Indiana followed its first detachment into the sap, from which place they were to hold the confederates at bay during the contest for the fort. The confederates fought desperately, as well at this point as the other ; but the character of the engage- ment was different, the troops firing at each other over breastworks of earth. This regiment did excellent service. The explosion of the mine was the signal for the opening of the artillenj of the entire line. The left division of General McPherson's Seventeenth or center corps opened first, and discharges were repeated along the left, through General Ord's Thirteenth corps and Herron's extreme left division, until the sound struck the ear like the mutterings of distant thunder. General Sherman, on the right, also opened his artillery about the same time and occu- pied the enemy's attention along his front. Every shell struck the parapet, and, bound- aer JTB^r -»r -CtBrr7T~jat ms. IE Sr-aHEL3t;>C3£r ~ss L as. "SHE ■JteSESJEST --JS TTm.-r "Vx^^-i-m ^^■ ^=*Tnp« ** .H "3^ T^' i|'i ' II. iS3BS;._ZL T ETm2Z!3I T. - — ■— - _ -sai p-'^e- T? tlieglZUZL "TIE- TT' ^ -TTT Tij: 3JC 5S} fV , - - . - . _- •..,"" " -- ■- — Tr "-jra. -■'■■■•-- - ■ ----- ———..;- _ - . _ -> . • xujenrsr . -: :ae: ir.-mrrKicas 11 -wriica. jesects, 'icsnt sa -lansi, "S... -^r- ^^. ,r-.;-.3. iiiear-rtniafssies. TjftTaary ,.-.-- ---^--~ -, — — ? 3iaiie -in 11 -aka saxz^ Ji -ne ^rnmsEira — C - n- „ : .,., ;_ ■_ ■ ^ ;_ . -— --r^;t^ eai 2nuo. if :&& -mum sca'^: saa. TJBSr- die: ■-£ "ise: iHiaiir-Gt-': -ixatssi tn.- Ztwai. m : _- IE :iie 3Er.- - . , -1 am&^^acs: snxsL Is was niiE: «mg 3^jrer iatiyftfr s3cl gryy ^suiiu in. i£e -E9E. L -ae 3ifliiieinins inasners ^ . 2nr -^ "' — " i jeis* — ■: ' -snnertniL jactus — I sige ja SBir .. m. the "■^"-^ asr TTgTiff - sad. 31 tne -stse -fie- aiTT — FnfTto' -tr -fri^ • ^ -fTc- -njif-i'iiiT- .^-r ^si^saa -ftpn mae: oi Tif^ t >f i f . r , i j7boae sous lu scattered ou the bleedmt^ ground." EE'S vast and powerful sriny had long waited, with eager and restlesa expectation, for the order of march from their chieftain which should r , , enable them to transfer the seat of civil war _~^ ..I' from the familiar encampments and blood- stained battle-fields of Virginia to the soil of the North. The plans of the commanding general were in due time arranged with this end in view, and, about the middle of June, 1863, he began to move his troops across the Potomac, and soon took possession of Hagers- town, Md., intending immediately to move thence, in full force, direct to Pennsylvania. Such a movement, on the part of the con- ""--' ' federate army, so sudden and well executed, produced great consternation throughout the north. President Lincoln issued a call for one hundred thousand addi- tional men from the ioyal states nearest the theater of military operations ; and Gen- eral Meade, who had just succeeded General Hooker in command of the. army of the Potomac, lost no time in advancing his army northward, as far as Harrisburg, Pa., the place of destination of Lee's forces. The army of General Meade consisted of the fol- lowing corps : First, under command of General Eeynolds, and subsequently under MEADE'S HEAD-QUARTEHS. 564 BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. General JDoubleday ; second, under Gen- eral Hancock ; third, under General Sick- les ; fifth, under General Sjkes ; sixth, under General Sedgwick ; eleventh, under General Howard ; twelfth, under General Slocum. Total number of men, sixty to eighty thousand, with two hundred guns. The army of General Lee consisted of General Hill's corps, General Longstreet's, and General Ewell's ; in all, about ninety thousand men, and two hundred guns. On the first of July, the advanced corps of the union army, led by Reynolds and Howard, engaged the confederate forces near Gettysburg. General Reynolds ap- proached the town from the south-east, the confederates evacuating it on his arrival. He passed through and out (says the account of a writer in the Philadelphia Age) on the west side toward Chambers- burg. He marched several miles, was met by the enemj' in stronger force, and after a slight contest was compelled to retire. The confederates pushed him very hard, and he came into the town on a run, his troops going along every available road, and rushing out on the east side, closely pursued. One of his brigades with a con- federate brigade on each side of it. All three were abreast, running as hard as they could, — the two outside ones pouring a heavy fire into the center, out of which men dropped, killed or wounded, at almost every footstep. This federal brigade, in running that terrible gauntlet, lost half its men. General Reynolds was killed, and Gettysburg was lost; but the federal troops succeeded in mounting the Ceme- tery Hill, and the confederates ceased pur- suing. At night, the latter encamped in the town, and the union troops on the hill. During Wednesday night and Thursday morning, the two armies were concentrating on the two ridges, which were to be the next day's line of battle, and by noon on Thursday each general had a force of eighty thousand men at his disposal. Then began the great artillerij contest, the infantry on both sides crouch- ing behind fences and trees and in rifle- pits. The federal soldiers ic the cemetery laid many of the tombstones on the ground to prevent injury, so that many escaped. There was but little infantry fighting on Thursday, and neither party made much im- pression on the other. The confederates in the other town erected barricades, and had their sharpshooters posted in every availa- ble spot, picking off federal soldiers on the hills to the north of the cemetery. The cannonade was fierce and incessant, and shells from both sides flew over and into the devoted town. Beyond killing and wounding, breaking trees and shattering houses, and making an awful noise, how- ever, this cannonade had but little effect on the result of the battle. Both sides fought with great ferocitj', and neither could drive the other out of position. On Thursday night, fearing that the enemy had flank parties which might turn his rear. General Meade had serious inten- tions of a change in his plan of movements, and he called a council of war. The ad- vice of some of his generals, however, and the caDture of a courier with dispatches from Richmond, from which it was learned that the confederates could receive no re-enforcements, made him decide not to alter his programme. On Friday morning. General Lee did not desire to make the attack. He saw the superiority of the federal position, and witched to entice them out of it and down into the valley. With this design in view, he withdrew all his sharpshooters and infantry from Gettys- burg. The deserted town lay there a very tempting bait, but General Meade's men hid quietly behind the fences and trees, and the banks upon the hills. They could look down into the streets and see every- thing that was in progress. They saw the confederates march out and retire to the seminary, but made no advance, and the confederates gained nothing by the move- ment. A parting salute of musketry, however, from a knoll north of the ceme- tery, accelerated the confederate retreat. For some time the town had scarcely a soldier in it. Scores of dead and wounded men and horses, with broken wagons, bricks, stones, timber, torn clothing, and BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 565 abandoned accoutrements, lay there. The frightened inliahitants peered out of their windows to see what the armies were doing to cause such a lull, and, almost afraid of their own shadows, they hastened away and crouched in corners and cellars at the sound of every shot or shell. Of the stirring scenes that so soon fol- lowed, the same correspondent says : Gen- eral Lee's evacuation, however, had no effect. Meade was neither to be enticed into the town nor into the vallej'. Enough dead bodies laj- in the fields and streets to give him warning of what happened to poor Reynolds two days before, and he wisely determined to stay where he was and let events shape themselves. The confederates soon became impatient. They could wait no longer; and after much solicitation from his subordinates, General Lee permitted General Longstreet to send his grand division on a charge upon the cemetery. The federal soldiers were on the alert. They were hid behind their embankments, some kneeling, and some flat on the ground. The confederate artil- lery opened. It was as fierce a cannonade as the one the day before, but instead of being spread all over the line, every shell was thrown at the cemetery. Experienced soldiers soon divined what was coming, and, m every portion of the federal line, the cannon were directed toward the valley in front of the cemetery. All were ready. Amidst the furious fire from the confeder- ate cannon scarcely a federal shot was heard. The artillerists, implements in hand, crouched in the little ditches dug behind their cannon. With arms loaded, the infantry awaited the charge. It soon came. Erom the woods of short, scrubby timber and the rocks near the seminary, there rose a yell. It was a long, loud, unre-iniUing, hideous screech, from thou- sands of voices. At the yell, the federal cannon opened. Soon the confederate col- umns emerged from the woods. They came on a rush down the hill, waving their arms and still screeching. They climbed the fences and rushed along, each one bent upon getting first into the cemetery. The cannon roared, and grape and canister and spherical case fell thick among them. Still they rushed onward, hundreds falling out of the line. They came within musket- shot of the federal troops. Then the small arms began to rattle. The confederates approached the outer line of works. They were laboring up the hill. As they mounted the low bank in front of the rifle- pits, the federal soldiers retreated out of the ditch behind, turning and firing as they went along. It was a hand-to-hand conflict. Every man fought for himself and by himself. Myriads of con!' derates pushed forward down the hill, across into the works, and up to the cemetery. All were shouting, and screaming, and swear- ing, clashing their arms and firing their pieces. The confederate shells flew over the field upon the federal artillerists on the hills above. These, almost disregard- ing the storm which raged around them, directed all their fire upon the surging columns of the enemy's charge. Every available cannon on Cemetery Hill, and to the right and left, threw its shells and shot in the valley. The fight was terrible ; but, despite every effort, the confederates pushed up the hill and across the second line of works. The fire became hotter. Tlie fight swayed back and forth. One moment the confederates would beat the railings of the cemetery; then a rush from the federal side would drive th-^m down into the vallev. Then, with one of 566 BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. their horrid screeches, thej- would fiercely run up the hill again into the cemetery, and have a fierce battle among the tomb- stones. It was the hardest fight of the day, and hundreds were sl.ain tncre. Sev- eral attempts were made to take the place, but they were not successful, and late in the afternoon, leaving dead and v.ounded behind them, the confederate forces re- treated upon their own hill and into their woods again. They were not routed. They can scarcely be |fiid to have been driven. They made an attack and were repulsed, and, after renewed attempts, feeling that it was useless to try any more, they retreated. It was now General Meade's turn to make an attack. Though they had lost heavily they felt elated. They saw hopes of a victory, and were ready to do almost anything to secure it. Although there had been a battle in the valley below Gettysburg,-yet the town was as quiet and as much deserted as ever. Shells flew over it, and now and then one of its houses would have a wall cracked or a roof broken, but neither force possessed it. General Meade turned his attention there. The day was waning and the battle had lulled, .' I'.d Meade determined, if possible, to drive the confederates out of the semin- ary. This was done, according to the writer already quoted, as follows : His troops were placed in order, and charged down the hill and into the town. They ran along every street, chasing a few of the enemy still hid there, before them. They came out upon the west side, along the Emmettsburg and Chambersburg roads, and ascended the enem3''s hills amidst a storm of grape and shell. At the seminary the confederates were not very strong. They had weakened that portion of the line to make their attack further to the south upon the cemeterj'. Tliey had but few cannon; and though they resisted some time, they finally re- treated from the edge of the hill and a'ban- doned the seminary. The federal troops did not chase them. The land back of the semiaary was rather flat and cut up into grain fields, with here and there a patch of woods. The rifle-pits on the brow of the hill proved an effectual aid to the fed- eral soldiers in maintaining their ground ; and as they lay behind the bank, with the ditch in front, they could pick off the stragglers from the retreating enemy. There was but little serious fighting after that, and night put an end to Friday's struggle, the confederates having retired about a mile on the north, near the semin- ary, and half a mile on the south, at a little stream. During the night, the dead in the streets of Gettj-sburg were buried, and the wounded on all parts of the field were collected and carried to the rear. On the next morning. General Meade expected another attack ; but, instead of making it, the confederates retreated further, aban- doning their entire line of battle, and the pickets reported that they were intrench- ing at the foot of South Mountain. The federal army was terribly crippled and sadly in need of rest, and no advance was made, although pickets were thrown across the enemy's old line of battle, and toward the place where they were building in- trencliments. All the day was spent in feeding and resting the men. Gettysburg was turned into a vast hospital, and im- promptu ones were made at a dozen jilaces on the field. The rain came, too, and with it cool air and refreshment both from wind and rain. No one could tell what the con. federates were doing ; everj' picket reported that they were intrenching, and the night of the fourth of July closed upon the field, the federal army being in full possession. The gallant charge made bj- the division under Crawford's command, contributed very materially to saving the left of the federal army. The confederates had massed their troops on Crawford's left. The third corps, Sickles's, had been en- gaging the enemy, but were overpow- ered, and several guns had been lost. Two divisions, of the fifth corps, Sykes's, had been also engaged, but nothing could withstand the confederate pressure, and their troops gave way. Several thou- sand arms had been lost. On came the BATTLE OF GETTYSBUEa 567 -HoL' 568 BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. confederates in a dark mass, across the wheat field, over the stone wall, and across the ravine. At this moment, while the fugitives were rushing through Crawford's ranks, he ordered a charge. He was drawn up in line of battle, and in column of division. His men, with loud cheers, ru.shed forward. Crawford himself rode to the front, and, seizing the flag of the lead- ing regiment, encouraged the men. They dashed in; volley after volley was poured into the < v .ifederate ranks. The federals got ahead, and drove the confederates back across the ravine, over the stone wall, and through the wheat field, retaking the unionists' ground and an immense quantity of arms. The left of the federal position was saved by this charge, enabling them to remain masters of the field. A fit illustration of the sanguinary char- acter of the afternoon struggle alreadj'' de- 8cri bed, is that given by Mr. Whitelaw Keid, one of the gifted correspondents of the Cin- cinnati Gazette. Mr. Reid says that some Massachusetts batteries — Captain Bige- low's, Captain Phillips's, and two or three more under Captain McGilvry, of Maine — were planted on the extreme left, ad- vanced now well down to the Emraettsburg road, with infantry in their front, — the first division of Sickles's corps. A little after five, a fierce confederate charge drove back the infantry and menaced the batter- ies. Orders were sent to Bigelow on the extreme left, to liold his position at every \azard short of sheer annihilation, till a couple more batteries could be brought to his support. Reserving his fire a little, tiien with depressed guns opening with double charges of grape and canister, he smote and shattered, but could not break tile advancing line. His grape and canis- ter became exhausted, and still, closing frandly up over their slain, on they rushed. He fell back on spherical case, and poured this in at the .shortest range. On, still onward, came the artillery-defj'ing line, and still he held his position. They got within six paces of the guns — he fired nON. overcome it — now sinking down to under- mine it — now dashing in its teeth — now half-choked in the gust of its fury, but always moving onward, and in the end rid- ing triumphant on the very crest of its wildest billows. There was not a more heroic achievement on any field of battle during the Great American Conflict, than the successful delivery of Mr. Beecher's speech against the tempest of odds which opposed it. This is the testimony which the loyal American press universally bore to the value of Mr. Beecher's efforts in vindicating the national cause so courage- ously and a'oly. But we say, 'That territory is ours ! ^ [Cheers.] Let them go, and leave the nation its territorj'-, and they will have our unanimous consent. [Renewed cheers.] But I do not wish to discuss this even in in this ad captandiim way. I wish — because this seems to me the very marrow of the matter — I wish to ask 3'ou to stand in our place for a little time, and see this question as we see it, then afterwards make up your judgment as you think best. [Hear, hear.] And first, this war began by the act of the South — firing at that old flag that had covered both sections with glory and protection. [Applause.] 576 CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. (Some gentleman on the platform here offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.) No, thank you (said Mr. Beecher) ; I want neither water nor lozenges. [Laugh- ter.] Time, patience, and my own good lungs, will make me heard. I expect to be hoarse ; I am willing to be hoarse. I think that if I might but bring the mother and the daughter heart to heart and hand to hand [loud applause], I would be will- ing to be silent for a twelvemonth in so good a work as that. [Cheers.] The war began under circumstances that obliged the North to join issue in order to prevent actual humiliation and subjugation. . . . . And for the North to have lain down like a spaniel — to have given up the terri- tory that every child in America is taught, as every child in Britain is taught, to regard as his sacred right and his trust — to have given that territory ui> without a thought, without a blow, would have marked the North to all eternity as craven and mean beyond expression." [Loud cheers and some hisses.] Equally forcible and felicitous was the manner in which Mr. Beecher met his oppo- nents on another point. " But I hear,'' said Mr. Beecher, " a loud protest against war. [Hear, hear.] Ladies and gentle- men, Mr. Chairman : There is a small band in our country and in j'ours — I wish their number were quadrupled — who have borne a solemn and painful testimony against all wars, under all circumstances ; and although I differ with them on the subject of defensive warfare, yet when men that rebuked their own land, and all lands, now rebuke us, though I cannot accept their judgment, I bow with pro- found respect to their consistency. [Hear, hear, and cheers.] But excepting them, I regard this British horror of the Ameri- can war as something wonderful. [Ee- newed cheers and laughter.] Why, it is a phenomenon in itself ! On what shore has not the prow of your ships dashed ? [Hear, hear.] What land is there with a name and a people where your banner has not led your soldiers ? [Hear, hear.] And when the great resurrection reveille shall sound, it will muster British soldiers from every clime and people under the whole heaven. [Cheers.] Ah, but it is said this is a war against your own blood. [Hear, hear.] How long is it since you poured soldiers into Canada, and let all your yards work night and day to avenge the taking of two men out of the Trent? [Loud apfilause.] Old England shocked at a war of principle ! She gained her glories in suih a war. [Cheers.] Old England ashamed of a war of princi- ple ! Her national ensign symbolizes her history — the cross in a field of blood. [Cheers.] And will you tell us — who inherit your blood, your ideas, and your pluck [cheers] — that we must not fight?" [Cheers.] Exeter Hall, London, was the scene of Mr. Beecher's last and, perhaps, greatest oratorical effort, in defense of the Ameri- can Union — the undivided nationality of the American Republic. This speech was delivered under the auspices of the Eman- cipation Society, October 20th, and the meeting was one of the most enthusiastic ever held in the English metropolis. The admission was by tickets, the lowest charge for which was one shilling, and for the reserved seats, of which there were four hundred, the charge was two shillings and sixjjence. More than an hour before the time for the proceedings to commence, the main entrance in the Strand was besieged by crowds of persons anxious to obtain egress, and, soon after the doors were ojsened, the vast hall was filled to suffocation, and thousands were outside seeking but unable to obtain admission. Outside, the scene was of a most extraor- dinary description. The speech, as adver- tised, was to begin at seven o'clock, and it was announced that the doors would be opened at half-past six. The crowd, how- ever, began to assemble as early as five o'clock, and, before six, it became so dense and numerous, as completely to block up not only the footway but the carriage-way of the Strand, and the committee of man- agement determined, therefore, to throw open the doors at once. The rush that CHAMPIONSHIP OF AI\IEKICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 577 took place was of the most tremendous character, and the hall, in every available part, became filled to overflowing, in a few minutes. But, notwithstanding this, no perceptible diminution was made in the crowd outside, and, at half-past six, there were thousands of well-dressed persons struggling to get in, despite the placards exhibited, announcing the hall to be "quite full." The policemen and hall-keepers were powerless to contend against this immense crowd, who ultimately filled the spacious corridors and staircases leading to the hall, still leaving a prodigious multitude both in the Strand and Burleigh street. At ten minutes before seven o'clock, Mr. Scott, the city chamberlain, and the chairman of the meeting, accompanied by a large body of the committee of the Emancipation Society, arrived, but were unable to make their way through the crowd, and a mes- senger vas dispatched to the Bow street police station, for an extra body of police. About thirty of the reserve men were immediately sent, and these, aided by the men already on duty, at last succeeded in forcing a passage for the chairman and his friends. Mr. Beecher at this time arrived, but was himself unable to gain admit- tance to the hall until a quarter of an hour after the time appointed for the commence- ment of his address. The reverend gen- tleman bore his detention in the crowd with great good humor, and was received with a perfect ovation, the crowd pressing forward in all directions to shake hands with him. He luns at last fairly carried into the hall on the shoulders of the police- men, and the doors of the hall were at once closed and guarded by a body of police, who distinctly announced that no more persons would be admitted, whether holding tickets or not. This had the effect of thinning to some extent the throng out- side, but thoiisands yet remained there, eager to seize any chance for admission that arose. At a quarter-past seven o'clock, a tre- mendous burst of cheering from within the building, plainly proclaimed that Mr. 37 Beecher had made his appearance on the platform. The cheering was taken up by the outsiders, and re-echoed again and again. The bulk of the crowd had now congregated in Burleigh street, which was completely filled, and loud cries were raised for some members of the emancipation committee to address them, but the call was not responded to. Several impromptu speakers, mounted upon the shoulders of some workingmen and addressed the peo- ple in favor of the policy of the federal government, their remarks being received with loud cheering from the large majority of those present. One or two speakers raised their voices in opposition to the views which had been advocated by Mr. Beecher, but they were speedily dislodged from their position by the mass of the crowd, whose sympathies were thus unmistakably exhibited. Every burst of cheering that resounded from within the hall was taken up and as heartily responded to by those outside. This scene continued without intermission, until the close of the meeting. When Mr. Beecher and his friends issued from the hall, they were again received with loud cheers ; and, a call being made for a cheer for Abraham Lincoln, a response went up from thousands of voices, like the noise of many waters, deep answering unto deep. A strong body of police were sta- tioned in the Strand and Burleigh street, but no breach of the peace occurred calling for their interference. In this London speech, Mr. Beecher gave a passing resume of his discussions of the American question during the last few weeks : At Manchester, he attempted to give the history of the external polit- ical movements for fifty years past, so far as was necessary to elucidate the fact that the war was only an overt form of the con- test between liberty and slavery which had been going on politically for half a cen- tury. At Glasgow, he undertook to show that the condition of work and labor ne- cessitated by any profitable system, of slavery was, that it brought labor into contempt, afiixing to it the badge of deg- 578 CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. radation, and that the struggle to ex- tend servile labor across the American continent interested everj' free working- man on the face of the globe — the southern cause being the natural enemy of free labor and the laborer all over the world. In Edinburgh, he endeavored to sketch how, out of separate colonies and states, intensely jealous of their individual sover- eignty, there grew up a nation, and how in that nation of the United States there grew up two distinct and antagonistic systems of development, striving for the possession of government and for the con- trol of the national policy, in which the north gained the control, and that the south joined the Union simply and only because it believed the government would be in the hands of men who would give their whole influence against the cause of freedom. In Liverpool, he labored to show that slavery was, in the long run, hostile to commerce and manufactures all the world over, as it was to every other interest of human society ; that a slave nation must be a poor customer, bu3'ing the smallest quantity and the poorest goods, at the lowest profit, and that the interest of every manufacturing nation was to promote freedom, intelligence, and wealth, among all nations ; and that the attempt to cover the fairest portion of thf earth with a slave population which buys nothing, and a degraded white population which buys next to nothing, should array every political economist, every far-seeing manufacturer, against it, as striking at the vital interest of the manufacturer, not by want of cotton, but by want of customers. From beginning to ending, the orator's address was a clear, forcible, and thoroughly earnest exposition of the principles under- lying the great conflict, the course of policy that led to it, and the tremendous issues at stake in its decision. Many of the points specially dwelt upon — such as the legal position of slavery in the South under the constitution, as a state and not a Union question, a matter of local juris- diction, with which the national govern- ment had nothing to do — were presented by Mr. Beecher with such happy illustra- tions, accurate logic, and fervent zeal, as to render them more broadly intelligible to the popular mind than ever they had been made before, and showed the orator to be not only a practiced and powerful speaker, but remarkably skilled in the management of large audiences, so that, by a happy mixture of sterling sense, good humor, and downright earnestness, combined with a rare talent for effective retort, he suc- ceeded in carrying his entire audience, foes as well as friends, along with him. As an instance of the speaker's last named faculty, nothing could be more apposite than his plump and dexterous retort to an indignation cry from someone in the audience about the feting of the Kussian naval officers at New York", — Mr. Beecher's sarcasm at the attentions paid by the English to Mr. Mason, the southern commissioner, being in his best vein. "A gentleman asks me," said Mr. Beecher, "to say a word about the Russians. [Hear, hear.] Well, what about the Russians in New York harbor ? [Cheers.] The fact is, that that is a little piece of coquetry. Don't you know that when a woman thinks her suitor is not attentive enough, she picks out another, and ilirts with him in her lover's face ? Well, New York is in the same way flirting with Russia at this moment, but she has her eye on Russia, you may depend. [Hear.] When I hear men say, this is a piece of national folly, which is not becoming in a people reputed wise and under the solemn circumstances in which America is now placed ; when I hear it said, that while Russia is actually c::gaged in treading down the liberties of Poland — [Hear, hear,] — it is not even decent of a free country like the Northern States of Amer- ica to make believe to flirt with her —[Hear, hear, and " That is true,"]— well, I think so too, and now you know how we felt when you flirted with Mason at your Lord Mayoi^s banquet ! " Mr. Beecher's justification of the presi- dent's proclamation of emancipation, as at once a war necessity and a philanthropic CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGL.iND. 579 act, told -with arlmirable effect upon his hearers. He said : " The great conflict between the north and tlie south when we began this war was, which should control the government of the territories — slave institutions, or free institutions. That was the conflict. It was not emancipation or no emancipation — the government had no business with the question. The only thing the government could join issue on was, shall the national policy be free or slave. ... It was for this the north went to war. It produced emancipation ; but she went to war to save national insti- tutions, to save territories, to save those laws wliich, if allowed to act through a series of years, would infallibly first cir- cumscribe, then suffocate, and finally de- stroy slavery. This is the reason why Mn. BEECHER'S church, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, that truly honest, just, and conscientious magistrate, Mr. Lincoln — [the remainder of the sentence was lost amid tumultuous cheering, the people rising and waving their hats]. How did the matter pass to a conflict with the soutli, in place of a direct attack upon the institution of slavery itself ? Because, in an ill advised hour, according to the foreshadowing of the wisest men of tlie south, tbey mixed the national government and national life with the institution of slavery, and obliged the people and obliged the president, who was under oath to defend the constitution and the national government, to take tlieir choice between the safety of the life of tlie government itself and slavery. We were content to wait the issue, as one of policy^ but when they threw drown the gauntlet, and said that slavery shall be established and extended, we could not do any other- wise than accept the challenge. [Cheers.] The police have no right to interfere with you so long as you keep the law, but when you violate the law they have a right. And so in constitutional government, it has no right to attack slavery when slavery is merely a state institution ; but when that state institution comes out of its own limits and attacks other states, it becomes a national enemy. [Cheers.] But it is said the president issued his proclamation for political effect, and not from humanity. [Hear, hear.] Why, the act of issuing the proclamation was political, but the disposition to do it was not. [Cheers.] Mr. Lincoln is an oflicer of the state, and in the presidential chair has no more right to follow his private feelings, than any one of your judges has a right to follow his private feelings on the bench. A judge is bound to administer the law, but when he sees that a rigid administration of the law goes with purity of justice, with human- ity, and with pity, he is all the more glad, because his private feelings go with his public duties." But the most striking and important parts of Mr. Beecher's address were his noble and earnest efforts to promote, to the utmost of his ability, that supreme inter- national object of his oratorical efforts — a good understanding between England and America, in which all the higher interests of civilization, freedom, and progress, are so directly involved. In discussing this great and vital question, he rose to a pitch of moral enthusiasm and elevation which — stranger, as he was, in the midst of his country's reputed enemies, and standing, as he did, the solitary spokesman for that country, in the presence of a surging and excited multitude — presented a spectacle of moral and forensic sublimity, rarely witnessed in any country. As the sequel of his series of public addresses in the various cities of the king- dom, this at London completed the dis- 580 CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMEEICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. cuBsion of the whole round of points in American affairs which the British found it most difficult to understand. That the address excited a prodigious degree of attention in Great Britain was evident on all sides. Its great effectiveness con- sisted in its heing an American's present- ation of the American question, and never before did an orator make such triumph- ant use of his opportunity. There had been symptoms of an attempt to pack the meeting — if possible to fill the hall with an opposition which should prevent a hearing for the speaker, or at least disturb him by unmannerly interruptions as at Liverpool. To this end, the walls of the city were placarded with enormous posters, designed to excite ill feeling against Mr. Beecher, and hand-bills of a similar char- acter were distributed to all who entered the hall. But all such effort to disparage the speaker with his audience was entirely overwhelmed, chiefly by the hearty enthu- siasm with which he was greeted by tho great majority, while his good nature, fine tact, resoluteness, and easj' address, quite conquered the remaining malcontents and reduced them to silence. LXX. COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, AND THE KEARSARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, OFF CHERBOURG.— 1864. The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of Europe — Semmes Tlirows His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Relative Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels —The Previous Destructive Career of tlie Alabama against Northern Commerce —Causeless Raid on Marine Property.— Fault in the Law of Nations.— British Origin of the Alabama — Her Unmistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment — Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run. — Adroit Shipment of Stores and Guns. — Ready for a Start.— All Hands Mustered Aft. — Semmes Reads Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, etc. — Salute Fired : Hoisting the Flag. — A Long Cruise : Terrible Ravages. — Puts in, at Cherbourg, France. — The United States Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary Maneuvers of the Ships — Seven Circles Round Each Other. — Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire. — Superior Gunnery of the Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this Renowned Fight. *' sink, bum, and destroy everything which flies the ensign of (he so-called United B'.ites."— Semme3'3 Coumiss'on Fnoil Jeffeesoh Pavis. iUSTICE, reason, and law, -will eventually unite, in all the states of Christendom, in exempting the merchant vessels of belligerent nations, engaged in the transport of goods on the high seas, not contra- band of war, from capture by privateers. Had this wise and equitable principle prevailed during the four years of the American Civil Conflict, the commerce of the United States would not have been -wept from the ocean by a few predatory cruisers like the Sumter, the Florida, the Georgia, and chief of all the Alabama, the latter commanded by ^^gr^^^^B^^M^^^^Ci;^ Captain Eaphael Semmes, formerly an officer of S^E^SiLD^iSSfiHElLABASl. the United States navy, and a man of acknowledged professional abilities. No feature in the devastations which accompanied that sanguin- ary conflict appears now, at this remote view of the period when it occurred, more causeless and deplorable than this indiscriminate destruction of merchant shipping, the hapless crews of which were composed largely of natives of other countries, and there- fore in no wise involved in or responsible for the war. On this account, the devastations of the Alabama— so famous for its successful career as " the scourge of the seas," as well as for the grave complications between England and America to which her career subsequently gave rise, and especially for the sum- 582 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESARGE. mary doom which at last overtook her in an engagement with the United States gun-boat Kearsarge, commanded by Capt. John A. Winslow, U. S. N., will here form the subject of a few pages. The engagement which at last sealed her doom, took place Sunday forenoon, June 19, 1864, off Cherbourg, in the English chan- nel, in plain sight of the two great mari- time poivers of Europe. Originally known as the "290," this vessel was built by Mr. Laird, the eminent ship-builder, at Liverpool, or Birkenhead, and presented the following peculiarities in her make, appointments, and manage- ment : Of about twelve hundred tons bur- den ; draught some fourteen feet ; engines by Laird and Sons, Birkenhead, 1862. She was a wooden vessel, propelled by a screw, copper bottom, two hundred and ten feet length on water-line, rather narrow, painted black outside and drab inside ; had a round stern, billet head, very little shear, flush deck fore and aft; a bridge forward of the smoke-stack carried two large black boats on cranes amidships forward of the main rigging; two black quarter-boats between the main and mizzen masts, one small black boat over the stern, on cranes ; the spare spars, on a gallows between the bridge and foremast, showed above the rail. In respect to armament, she carried three long thirty-two pounders on a side, and was pierced for two more amidships ; had a one hundred pound rifled pivot gun for- ward of the bridge, and a sixty-eight pound pivot on the main deck ; also, a pivot bow- gun, and a pivot stern chaser. This was her armament when she began her career, her guns being of the well-known Blakely pattern, manufactured in Liverpool, in 1862. She was bark-rigged ; had very long, bright lower masts, and black mast-heads ; yards black, long yard-arms, short poles — about one to two feet — with small dog- vanes on each, and a pendant to the main ; studding-sail booms on the fore and main, and wire rigging. Carried on her fore- mast a square foresail ; large try-sail with two reefs, and a bonnet top-sail with two reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. On the mizzen-mast a very large spanker and a short three-cornered gaff top-sail ; a fore and foretop-mast stay-sail and jib; no stay-sail to the main or mizzen mast bent or royal yards aloft On the mainmast a large try-sail with two reefs and a bonnet. No square main-sail bent, top-sail two reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. Of her appearance and management at sea, she was rated, in respect to speed, at thirteen knots under canvas and fifteen under steam ; could get steam in twenty minutes, but seldom used it except in a chase or emergency. Had all national flags, but usually set the St. George's cross on approaching a vessel. Her com- plement of men varied from one hundred to considerably more than that number. A man was kept at the mast-head from daylight until sunset. Her sails were of hemp canvas, made very roaching; the top-sails had twenty cloths on the head and thirty on the foot. The general appearance of the hull and sails was de- cidedly English. She was genei-ally un- der two top-sails, fore and main try-sails ; fore and foretop-mast stay-sails; some- times top-gallant sails and jib, but seldom any sails on the mizzen except while in charge of a vessel. She was very slow in stays; generally wore ship. Being built expressly for a privateer, she was adapted, in all respects, to destroy, fight, or run, according as the character of her opponent might bo. She left Birkenhead, towards the end of July, ostensibly on a trial trip, having on board a large party of ladies and gentle- men. On getting out of the Mersey, this party was sent back in a tug-boat, and the 290, as had been previously arranged, neglected to return co Birkenhead, but steamed direct for the island in the Atlan- tic where she was to take in her guns, ammunition, etc. On leaving England, the privateer had a crew of ninety-three men, for the most part belonging to the English naval re- serve, all being trained gunners, and the COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSARGE. 5«3 majority old men-of-war's men. She was temporarily commanded by Captain Bul- lock, who had under him the proper com- plement of commissioned and petty officers. Captain Bullock having learned that the Tuscarora, a United States war vessel, lay in wait for him in St. George's channel, took his departure by what is known as the north channel, thus eluding pursuit; though, even had he been intercepted, the Tuscarora would have found herself in a dilemma, as the escaped vessel had a set of English papers, and other presumptive proofs of her neutrality, in the face of which, interference might have been diffi- cult. At this time, she carried no guns, nor any warlike stores, but consisted ^^W2^,^>i^ merely of the hull, spars, and engines, with sufficient coal and other requisites to ena- ble her to reach her destination, which was Tarissa, one of the Azores, or Western Islands, belonging to Portugal. This des- tination the vessel duly reached, after a favorable run of eight d.ays, nothing of any moment having occurred to break the usual monotony of a sea voyage. Some time before her departure from the Mersey, a large bark left the Thames, — cle.ariug for Demerara, West Indies, — to meet the privateer at Tarissa, and there transfer to the latter vessel the guns and stores destined for her, and which formed the cargo of the bark. Some reason re- quired to be assigned to the Portuguese authorities for the 290 having anchored in this way, in their bay, and accordingly the excuse furnished them was that her en- gines had broken down. This plea was accepted as valid, and, during the week that intervened betwixt the arrival at Tarissa of the privateer and the bark, the crew of the former vessel were engaged ostensibly in repairing her engines, but really in preparing her to receive her guns, etc. About the lapse of a week from the arrival of the 290, the bark above men- tioned sailed in and anchored, her captain alleging as a reason to the Portuguese offi- cials that his vessel had sprung a leak, which would require to be repaired ere she could resume her voyage ; and on this understanding, the Portuguese at once placed her in quarantine, which in the Azores lasts three days. On the day after the bark's arrival, Captain Bullock, being anxious to get his guns on board, hauled along- side of the bark, and erected a pair of large shears to effect the transfer of hor cargo from the bark's hold to the privateer's deck. This brought off the Portuguese in a fury, that their rules should have been broken by the 290 having dared to communicate with a vessel that had still quarantine time to run, and they angrily de^ manded to know the reason why their regulations had been infringed. They were told that the bark was in a sinking state, and the erection of the shears was accounted for by urging the necessity of an immediate transfer, tempo- rarily, of her cargo, that the leak might be reached and stopped ; and Captain Bul- lock finally succeeded in bearing down all opposition by feigning to get into a pas- sion, saj'ing that he was doing no more for the bark than any Englishman would do for another in distress. The Portuguese were content to leave the vessel, and the transhipment proceeded without further hindrance from those on shore. About the afternoon of the second day, and when the transfer was nearly complete, the British screw-steamer Bahama came in, having on board Captain Semmes and 584 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSAEGE. other late officers of tlie privateer Sumter (cut short in her career), besides the re- mainder of the 290's armament, and an addition of twenty or more men to her crew. On the Baliama's arrival and an- chorage, on a somewhat similar pretext to those given by her two predecessors, the Portuguese apparently lost all patience, and peremptorily insisted on the instant de- parture of all three vessels. The Bahama at once communicated with the 290, and liaving handed over to the latter everything destined for her, got up steam and left, followed by the 290, towing the now empty bark. All three went, not to sea, as they had been ordered to do, but to Angra Bay — a bay in the same island, and only a few leagues distant from Tarissa Eoads. Here they remained unmolested until noon of the following day, Sunday, when, for the second time, all three vessels were ordered out of Portuguese waters. All the 290's guns being now mounted, and the vess(J otherwise ready for a cruise, the order was obeyed, and all took their departure, the bark as before in tow of the 290, which, having convoyed her well out to sea, cast her off, and, witli a favoring breeze, she steered for Cardiff, to bring out a further supply of coal for the 290's future use. The privateer and the Bahama now steamed around the island, and Captain Semmes, coming out of his cabin, ordered his first lieutenant to muster the crew aft. This having been done, and all the officers assembled on the poop in their full uni- form, namely, the confederate gray frock- coat and trousers. Captain Semmes en- joined silence, and read his commission as post-captain in the confederate navy. It was a document duly attested at Rich- mond, and bore the signature of " Jeff Davis, President Confederate States of America." He then opened and read liis sealed orders from Mr. Davis, directing him to assume command of the confederate sloop-of-war Alabama, hitherto known as the 290, in which, having been dulj' com- missioned, he was to hoist the confederate jiisi^a and pennant, and " si7ik, burn, aJid destroy everything which flew the ensign of the so-called United States of America." Captain Semmes then ordered the first lieutenant to fire a gun and run up the confederate flag and pennant. The gun was fired hy the second lieutenant, and, ere its smoke had cleared awaj', the stars and bars of the southern confederacy were floating on the breeze, and the ceremony was complete, — Semmes declaring tlie vessel, henceforth to be known as the Ala- bama, to have been duly commissioned. The next step was formallj' to engage the crew to serve and fight under the southern flag, which having been done, the men were addressed by their captain in a stirring speech, in the course of which he said there were only four vessels in the United States navy that were more than a match for the Alabama; but, he added, in an English-built heart of oak as the Ala- bama was, and surrounded as he then saw himself by British hearts of oak, he wouldn't strike his newly-hoisted flag for any one of tlie four. This elicited a hearty burst of applause for Davis, the confeder- acy, and Semmes, and, when it had sub- sided, the captain said that the Bahama was on the point of leaving for England, and intimated that if any of his crew reiieiited of the step they had taken, they were free to return in her. This alterna- tive none would accept, and Captain Bul- lock and a few of the otlier officers who had taken the 290 from Fngland to the Azores finding their occupation gone, through the arrival of those who had held similar appointments in the Sumter, hav- ing gone on board the Bahama, that vessel and the Alabama, amid heartj- cheering from the crews of both, parted company, the former pursuing her course back to England, and the latter making chase for an American whaler, which she soon cap- tured and burned. Tliis u-as the first prize taken by Semmes, in that long and successful career in the South Atlantic and Indian oceans, during wliich he inflicted almost untold damage upon the merchant marine service of the United States, and successfully COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESAEGE. 585 eluding the most diligent pursuit and the best-laid plans of capture. Nor is it possible to conjecture how much longer this prosperous career of the Alabama would have continued, but for the fortuitous circumstance which suddenly arose, and which as suddenly terminated in her comnlete destruction. Making good her escape from the United States naval vessels at the Cape of Good Hope and Straits of Sunda, and after com- mitting sundry devastations, the Alabama returned westward, in June, 1864, and took refuge under tlie guns of Fort Du Eomet, off Cherbourg, a Frenc-li port. At the same time, the United States gun-boat Kearsarge, Captain Winslow, was lying at Flushing, Holland, when a telegram came from Mr. Dayton, the American ambassa- dor at Paris, stating that the Alabama was at Cherbourg. The Kearsarge immedi- ately put to sea, and arrived at Cherbourg in quick time, taking the Alabama quite by surprise by so sudden an appearance on her track. Through the consular agent, a sort of challenge was received by Captain Winslow from Captain Semmes, the latter stating that he would like to measure the strength of his vessel with that of the Kearsarge, — that if the latter remained off the port he would come out and fight her, — and that he would not detain the vessel long. After cruising off the pen for five days, until Sunday, June 19th, at about half-past ten o'clock, in the forenoon. Cap- tain Winslow descried the starry ensign of the Alabama floating in the breeze, as she came boldly out of the western en- trance, accompanied by the French iron- clad steamer Couronne and the English yacht Deerhound, the latter having on board its owner, Mr. Lancaster — a member of the Eoyal Yacht Club — together with his wife and family. The Couronne re- tired into port, after seeing the combatants outside of French waters. Captain Wins- low had previously had an interview with the admiral of Cherbourg, assuring him that, in the event of an action occurring with the Alabama, the position of the vessels should be so far off shore that no question would be advanced about the line of jurisdiction. When the Alabama was first descried, the Kearsarge was about three miles from the entrance of the har- bor, and, to make certain that none of the maneuvers of battle took place within the French waters, as well as to draw the Ala- bama so far off that, if disabled, she could not flee in to the shore for protection from her French allies or sj-mpathizers, the Kearsarge stood to seaward until she had attained the distance of about seven miles from the shore. At ten minutes before eleven, the Kear- sarge came quick about and approached the Alabama. When within about three- quarters of a mile, the Alabama opened her guns with her starboard broadside. The Kearsarge made no reply for some minutes, but ranged up nearer, and then opened her starboard batter}', fighting six guns, and leaving only one thirty-two pounder idle. The Alabama fought seven guns, working them with the greatest rapidity, sending shot and shell in a con- stant stream over her adversary. Both vessels used their starboard batteries, the two being maneuvered in a circle about each other at a distance of from five hun- dred to one thousand yards. Seven com- plete circles were made during the action, which lasted a little over one hour. At the last of the action, when the Alabama 586 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESARGE. would have made off, she was near five miles from the shore ; and, had the action continued from the first in parallel lines, with her head in shore, the line of juris- diction would, no doubt, have been reached. From the first, the firing of the Ala- bama was rapid and wild ; toward the close of the action, the firing became bet- ter. The Kearsarge gunners, who had been cautioned against firing rapidly, with- out direct aim, were much more deliberate ; and the instructions given to point the heavy guns below rather than above the water-line, and clear the deck with lighter ones, was fully observed. Captain Winslow had endeavored, with a port helm, to close in with the Alabama; but it was not until just before the close of the action, that he was in position to use grape. This was avoided, however, by the Alabama's surrender. The effect of the training of the Kearsarge's men ■was evident; nearly every shot from their guns told fearfully on the Alabama, and on the seventh rotation in the circular trade, she winded, setting fore-trysail and two jibs, with head in shore. Her speed was now retarded, and by winding her port broadside was presented to the Kearsarge, with only two guns bearing, not having been able to shift over but one. Captain Winslow now saw that she was at his mercy, and a few more guns brought down her flag, though it was difficult to ascer- tain whether it had been hauled down or shot away ; but a white flag having been displayed over the stern, the fire of the Kearsarge was reserved. Two minutes had not more than elapsed before the Alabama again opened firo on the Kearsarge, with the two guns on the port side. This drew Captain Winslow's fire again, and the Kearsarge was immedi- ately steamed ahead and laid across her bows for raking. The white flag was still flying, and the Kearsarge's fire was again reserved. Shortly after this, her boats were to be seen lowering, and an officer in one of them came alongside and stated that the ship had surrendered, and was fast sinking. In twenty minutes from this time the Alabama went down, her main- mast, which had been shot, breaking near the head as she sank, and her bow rising high out of the water, as her stern rapidly settled. At precisely twenty-four minutes past twelve, twenty minutes after her furnace fires went out, the Alabama being on the point of making her final plunge, the word went forth for every man to take care of himself, which they did by jumping over- board, Semmes throwing his sword into thfi ocean and then taking a swim himself, making for the Deerhound, which rescued him and thirteen other officers. None of the men who had been killed were left to sink; of the twenty-one wounded, some were in the quarter-boats with the boys, and others on board the Kearsarge ; the rest of the crew were all afloat, and some of them drowning. Every available boat of both vessels was now emploj'ed in their rescue ; and besides these, the Deerhound and a French pilot-boat shared in this humane service. In this way, one hun- dred and nineteen were saved, the greater number by the boats of the Kearsarge. Semmos's three waist-boats had been torn to shreds in the fight, and he had left only two quarter-boats ; these w-ere filled with tlu wounded and with boys unable to swim. The chances of this conflict, estimated from the relative strength and speed of the two vessels, were nearly equally' bal- anced. Thus, the length over all, of the Alabama, was two hundred and twenty feet, and of the Kearsarge, two hundred and fourteen ; the Alabama's lengtli on water-line, two hundred and ten feet, and of the Kearsarge, one hundred and ninety- eight ; the Alabama's beam was thirty-two feet, being one less than the Kearsarge's ; depth of the Alabama, seventeen feet, or one more than the Kearsarge ; the two engines of the Alabama were of three hun- dred horse-power each, while the horse- power of the Kearsarge was four hundred. Tonnage of the Alabama, eleven hundrej and fifty ; of the Kearsarge, one thousand and thirty. CO:\rBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESAKGE. 587 Tha complete armament of the Alabama consisted of one seven-inch Blakely rifle, one eight-^ncli smooth bore sixty-eiglit pounder, and six thirty-two pounders. The armament of the Kearsarge consisted of two eleven-inch smooth bore guns, one thirty-pounder rifle, and four thirty-two j)0unders. In the combat, the Kearsarge lised but five guns; the Alabama, seven. The Kearsarge had one hundred and sixty- from the Alabama struck these chains, and fell harmlessly into the water. The Ala- bama, it was estimated, discharged three hundi'ed and seventy or more shot and shell, but inflicted no serious damage on the Kearsarge ; some thirteen or fourteen took effect in and about the hull, and six- teen or seventeen about the masts and rigging. The Kearsarge fired one hun- dred and seveutj^-three projectiles, oi NAVAL CoNlKST UETWCCX Till .,.<.K AXI> ALABAMA. iwo men, including officers ; the Alabama, about one hundred and fifty. For five days the Alabama had been in preparation. She had taken in three hun- dred and fifty tons of coal, which brought her down in the water. The Kearsarge had only one hundred and twentj' tons in ; tut, as an offset to this, her sheet-chains were stowed outside, stopped up and down, 2.S an additional preventive and protection to her more empty bunkers. Two shots which one alone killed and wounded eight- een of the Alabama's men, and disabled one of her guns. On board the Kearsarge, three men were badly wounded, one of them — Wil- liam Gowin, of Michigan — mortally. Though struck quite early in the action, by a fragment of a shell, which badly shat- tered his leg, near the knee-pan, Gowin refused assistance, concealed the extent of his injury, and dragged himself from the 588 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSARGE. after pivot gun to the fore-hatch, unwilling to take any one from his station. During the progress of the action, he comforted his suffering comrades by assuring them that " Victory is ours ! " Whenever the guns' crews cheered at the successful effect of their shot, Gowin waved his hat over his head and joined in the shout. When brought i t length to the surgeon, he ap- peared with a smile on his face, though suffering acutely from his injury. He said, "It is all right, and I am satisfied, for we are whipping the Alabama. I wil- linglj' will lose my leg or life, if it is nec- essary." In the hospital, he was calmly resigned to his fate, repeating again and again his willingness to die, since his ship had won a glorious victory. The following conversation with one of the crew of the Alabama, as given in the London "Cornhil! Magazine," furnishes some interesting memorabilia concerning this remarkable encounter : "But I thought you had been in the oo"federate navy." " I was," said Aleck. " I was' with Semmes everywhere he went. I was in the naval brigade and blockade-running, and on the Alabama all the while he com- manded her." " But not when she sank, I suppose." " Well, I was, and was picked up with him by the Deerhound." " It was a pretty sharp fight, wasn't it?" " It was that ! " " I suppose it was the eleven-inch shells that did her business ? " " Oh, no ; we tiever had any chance. We had no gunners to compare with the Kearsarge's. Our gunners fired by rou- tine, and when they had the ;^un loaded, fired it off blind. They never changed the elevation of their guns all through the fight, and the Kearsarge was working up to us all the while, taking advantage of every time she was hid by smoke to work a little nearer, and then her gunners took aim for every shot." " Then it isn't true that the Alabama tried to board the Kearsarge ? " "No, sir! She did her best to get away from her from the time the fight commenced. W^e knew well that if we got in range of her Dahlgren howitzers she would sink us in ten minutes." '• But don't you believe that Semmes supposed he would whip the Kearsarge when he went out to fight her ? " "No; ho was bullied into it, and took good care to leave all his valuables on shore, and had a life preserver on through the fight. I saw him put it on, and I thought if it was wise in him it wouldn't bo foolish in me, and I put on one too. When Semmes saw that the ship was going down, he told us all to swim who could, and was one of the first to jump into the water, and we all made for the Deerhound. I was a long way ahead of Semmes, and, when I came up to the Deerhound's boat, they asked me if I was Semmes, before they would take me in. I said I wasn't, and then they asked me what I was on the Alabama. Said I, No matter what I was on the Alabama, I shall be a dead man soon if you don't ca'ie me in." LXXI. ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEA^EMENTS AT NEW OR- LEANS IN 1862, AND AT MOBILE BAT IN 1804 ; AND ADMIRAL PORTER'S CROWNING VICTORY IN 1805, AT FORT FISHER.— 1804. His Astonishing Feat of Running Past the Confederate Batteries — Fierce and Sanguinary Contesi between the Admiral's Flagship, tlie Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram, the Ten- nessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the Whole Union Fleet. — Farragut'a Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerving Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Great Fleet. — Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Forts Jackson and St. Philip Wrecked. — New Orleans Again Under the United States Flag. — Another Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron- Clads, etc., to Fight — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — Intended Running Down of the Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature in His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft — Tremendous Cannonade. — The "Glory" and Horrors of War.— Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram.— Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The Stars and Stripes on Her Staff — Buchanan Yields His Sword. "Admiral for admiral— flngahip for flagship— I'll flghthimI"—FAEBAOUT, ON THE Appboach op the TBNSEeSEE. EAES before tlie breaking out of the civil war between the national govern- ^^ nient and the Southern states, in the spring of 1861, the name of David Gr. Farragut was one of the most illustrious on the roll of the United States Navy, for those sterling qualities, both as a man and oflScer, which command universal respect. Having in mind, therefore, his South- ern birth, and his presumed sympathy with the disunion movement for a Southern confed- eracy, he was invited by those representing the latter cause to join his fortune to theirs. He promptly declined. The effort to change his purpose was repeated. He was urged by every consideration that it was supposed could influ- ence his action, to side with his native south ; he still refused. The men who made these j.roposals well knew Farragut. They knew him better than his own government then did, —knew the lion-like qualities that slumbered beneath his modest and habitually retiring demeanor, and the achievements of which he was capable when the latent powers of the man should be roused to active energy. As a last effort to win him over, they offered him any position which he should be pleased to name. This mercenary assault upon his FAKIUGOT'S I-I.AQ-SU liAlilFuaD. ley- 590 ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. ally was more than his nature could endure, and, with a sudden and sailor-like burst of indignation, he replied, as he jiointed to the emblem of the republic, which floated near him, — " Gentlemen, your efforts are useless. I tell you I would see every man of you , before I would raise my arm against that flag ! " That flag he nobly upheld in more than one fierce conflict, during the ensuing four years, conferring the brightest and widest luster on his country's renown, and sharing, with his eminent colleagues. Porter, Foote, Dupont, Gillmore, Golds- borough, Bailey, Boggs, Worden, Wins- low, and others, the honors of a grateful country. Before presenting the narrative of his superb achievements in Mobile harbor, in 1864, some account of the brilliant and terrible operations on the Mississippi, in the spring of 1862, will be interesting. Knowing the qualifications of Farragut, the government put him at the head of the great naval expedition which, in con- junction -with General Butler's army, was to undertake the capture of New Orleans. This task he prosecuted in a manner which fully justified the confidence reposed in liis indomitable heroism and splendid executive abilities, and the prize obtained vfas one of the richest and most important ever presented by a victorious chieftain to a grateful and admiring country. It was on the 17th of April, 1862, that the mortar fleet of Commodore Porter — one of the bravest captains that ever trod a man-of-war's deck — began the bombard- ment of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, and, on the 24th, Commodore Farragut, with his entire fleet, ran past the forts, encountering a fire almost unparalleled in severity, a fleet of gun-boats, including several iron-clads, fire-rafts, obstructions and torpedoes innumerable. The mortar fleet rained down shells on Fort Jackson, to try and keep the men from the guns, whilst the steamers of the mortar fleet poured in shrapnel upon the water-battery commanding the approach, at a short dis- tance, keeping them comparatively quiet. The squadron was formed in three lines to pass the forts, the divisions being led, respectively, by Farragut, Bailey, and Bell. Perfect success attended the flag-officer's boldly executed plan of battle. Fort Jack- son became a perfect wreck ; everything in the shape of a building in and about it was burned up by the mortar shells, and- over eighteen hundred shells fell in the' work proper, to say nothing of those which' burst over and went around. It was an exciting scene when, on the morning of the 24th, that signal "to advance" was thrown out from the flag-ship. The Ca- yuga led on the column. They were dis- covered at the boom, and a little beyond both forts opened fire. When close up with St. Philip, Bailey opened with grape and canister, still steering on ; and after passing this line of fire, he encountered the " Montgomery flotilla," consisting of eighteen gun-boats, including the ram Ma- nassas, and iron-battery Louisiana. This was a moment of anxietj', as no supporting ship was in sight. By skillful steering, however, their attempts to butt and board were avoided, and after forcing three of them to surrender, aid came ver3' oppor- tunely from the Varuna, Cajitain Boggs, and the Oneida, Captain Lee. The Cayuga received most of the first fire, but was not severely damaged. On her falling back, the flag-ship Hartford took her place. The latter had only two guns — which were placed on the top-gal- lant forecastle — that could bear on the enemy until within half a mile. The Hartford now sheered off, and gave forth a most terrible fire. The Pensacola ran up after a while, and dealt with the star- board batter}', and in a few minutes the Brooklyn ranged iip and did gallant service. The passing of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, Farragut describes as one of the most awful sights and events he ever witnessed. The smoke was so dense that it was only now and then anything could be seen but the flash of the cannon and the fire-ships or rafts, one of which ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 591 was pushed down upon the Hartford by the ram Manassas. In his effort to avoid this, Farragut ran his ship on shore, and then the fire-raft was pushed alongside, — the ship in a moment being one blaze all along the port side, half-way up to the main and mizzen tops. But, by adroit management, the flames were extinguished, and the Hartford backed off and got clear of the raft. But all this time she was pouring shells into the forts, and they into her. At length the fire slackened, the then sent on beard of her, but she was riddled and deserted, and after a while she drifted down the stream, full of water, — the last of eleven that the union armj' had destroyed. The larger ram, at Fort Jack- son, was subsequently blown up. On the 28th, General Butler landed above Fort St. Philip, under the guns of the Missis- sippi and the Kineo. So desperate was the proposed attempt to run past Forts Jackson and St. Philip regarded at the time, that some French smoke cleared off, and the forts had been passed. Here and there was a confeder- ate gun-boat on fire, trj-ing to make their escape, but they were fired into and rid- dled and soon became wrecks. The Mis- sissippi and the Manassas made a set at each other at full speed, and when they were within thirty or forty yards, the ram dodged the Mississippi and ran on shore, when the latter poured her broadside into her, knocked away her smoke-stack, and and English officers, who had been to ^ew Orleans and inspected the fortifications, pronounced such an undertaking absc>- lutely insane. Nor were they alone in their military opinion of its rashness and impossibility. It is related that when that brave veteran, Commodore Goldsbor- ough, first heard the news of Farragufs exploit, — communicated to him by a news- paper correspondent who boarded the Minnesota at Fortress Monroe, while on 692 ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. his way north with dispatches, — some- thing like the following conversation took place : "Commodore," said the correspondent, " I haFe the pleasure of informing you that Commodore Farragut has run past Forts Philip and Jackson with his fleet, and taken New Orleans." " Run past the batteries ? " exclaimed Commodore Goldsborough. " Yes, sir." " It's not true, sir — it's a he ! It couldn't be done." A blunt and sailor-like demand for the unconditional surrender of the city was made upon Mayor Monroe, — a demand which, of course, he was in no condition to resist ; and it was not long before the venerable national flag was floating over the city hall, the mint, and the custom- house, and, at the same time, all flags emblematic of any other sovereignty than that of the United States were instantly removed, and never reappeared. It was in the early part of August, 1864, however, that the country was elec- trified by that signal achievement by Far- ragut, in Mobile Bay, which placed him in the very foremost rank among the naval heroes of modern times. Guarded at its entrance by two imposing fortifications, of immense strength, the bay also floated at this time a formidable naval fleet, under the command of Admiral Buchanan, one of the ablest officers in the confederate serv- ice. For a long time, Farragut watched for his opportunity, and it came at last, under circumstances the most favorable, as the result proved, for union success. From the official reports, and the vari- ous accounts furnished by the reporters for the press, the following sketch of this celebrated achievement is prepared. For some months, Farragut — now holding the rank of Rear-Admiral — had commanded the United States blockading fleet off Mobile, and it was with some impatience that he awaited the means necessary to justify him in moving up and attacking the defenses of the city. Knowing the disad- vantage of attacking iron-cased vessels with wooden ones, and that, too, in the face and under the guns of heavy fortresses, without a co-operating land force, he de- ferred the movement until those essential helps were provided, though holding him- self in readiness to meet, at any time, the fleet of Buchanan, should it venture out. In the summer, Farragut found himself in command of four iron-clads and four- teen wooden ships-of-war, aided by a small land force under Gen. Gordon Granger. On the morning of August 6th, therefore, all things being ready, he went up the bay, passing between Forts Morgan and Gaines, and encountering the formidable confederate ram Tennessee, and also the gun-boats of the enemy, Selma, Morgan, and Gaines. The attacking fleet was under way by quarter before six in the morning, in the following order : The Brooklyn, with the Octorara on her port side ; Hartford, with the Metacomet ; Eichmond, with the Port Royal ; Lacka/- wanna, with the Seminole; Monongahela, with theTecumseh ; Ossipee, with theltas- CO ; and the Oneida, with the Galena. On the starboard of the fleet was the proper position of the monitors or iron-clads. The wind was light from the south-west, and the sky cloudy, with very little sun. Fort Morgan opened upon them at ten minutes past seven, and soon after this the action became lively. As they steamed up the main ship channel, there was some difficulty ahead, and the Hartford passed on ahead of the Brooklyn. At twenty min- utes before eight, the Tecumseh was struck by a torpedo and sunk, going down very rapidly, and carrying down with her all the officers and crew, with the exception of the pilot and eight or ten men, who were saved by a boat '' jnt from the Meta- comet. The Hartford had passed the forts before eight o'clock, and, finding himself raked by the confederate gun-boats, Farragut ordered the Metacomet to cast off and go in pursuit of them, one of which, the Selma, she succeeded in capturing. All the vessels had passed the forts by half- past eight, but the confederate ram ADMIKAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 593 Tennessee was still apparently uninjured, in the rear of the union vessels. A signal was at once made to all the fleet to turn again and attack the ram, not only with guns, but to run her down at full speed. The Monongahela was the first that struck her, but did not succeed in disabling her. The Lackawanna also struck her, but inef- fectually. The flag-ship gave her a severe shock with her bow, and as she passed poured into her a whole port broadside of solid nine-inch shot and thirteen pounds of powder, at a distance of not more than twelve feet. The iron-clads were closing on her, and the Hartford and the rest of the fleet were bearing down upon her, when, at ten o'clock, she surrendered. The rest of the confederate fleet, namely, the Morgan and the Gaines, succeeded in getting back under the protection of Fort Morgan. This terminated the action of the day Admiral Buchanan was himself badly wounded with a compound fracture of the leg. On the following day, one of the iron- clads shelled Fort Gaines, and with such effect, that Colonel Anderson, the com- mander, sent a communication to Farra- gut, offering to surrender. General Gran- ger, commanding the military forces, was sent for, and the terms of capitulation were signed by the respective parties on board of the Hartford. From this time onward, movements were in progress for capturing Fort Morgan, and, on the 22d of August, at day dawn, a bombardment was opened from the shore batteries, the monitors and ships inside, and the vessels outside the bay. At six o'clock in the morning, August 23d, a white flag was displayed by the ccn "ederates, and, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the fort was un- conditionally surrendered to the navy and army of the United States. Fort Powell had been already attacked on the night of the fifth, and blown up. With what spirit the fierce and sanguin- inary conflict between the Tennessee and Hartford was carried on, may be judged from the fact, that, when it was reported to Farragut that the monster was bear- 38 ing down upon him, he hastened on deck with the remark — " He is after me ! let him come on if it must be so; admiral for admiral— flag- ship for flag-ship— Fll fight hi7n! " The Tennessee was close at hand, and coming with all her speed directly at the Hartford, evidently with the intention of running her down. Farragut mounted to the maintop and surveyed his ground, arranging hastily his plan of battle. This settled quietly in his own mind, he awaited the approach of the monster. Perfect quiet prevailed on board the Hartford ; not a gun was fired ; no crew was to be seen ; her broadside lay plumply exposed to the tremendous blow the Tennessee was hastening to give. But, suddenly, there was a change ! When the monster had approached near enough to answer the purpose which Far- ragut had in view, the helm of the Hart- ford was put hard a port, her machinery started, she described a segment of a circle, and, just as Buchanan had thought to strike her squarely amidship and cut her in two, — as he was capable of doing, — the towering brow of the noble old ship struck him a tremendous blow on his port quarter forward, that knocked every man aboard his craft off his feet. The force of the collision checked the headway of both ves- sels. The blow given by the Hartford was a glancing one, and the two vessels came up broadside to broadside. At this moment, a full broadside from the Hart- ford was let go at her antagonist, but it was like throwing rubber balls against a brick wall, — nine-inch solid sine though they were, and fired from the muzzles of her guns scarcely twelve feet distant. Simultaneously, Buchanan also discharged his broadside of four Brookes's rifles, which passed completely through the Hartford, and expended their force in the water beyond. The Tennessee immediately put on steam again, and started to try her strength with some other of the wooden vessels. The Brooklyn lay nearest, and for that ship she headed. Here she was met with 694 ADMIRAL FAERAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. almost jjrecisely the same reception as with tlie Hartford. Instead of butting she received a butt — both vessels came together, broadside to broadside ; both broadsides were discharged, and the ram went on her way to try another, and anotlier, — and all of them, — but with no better success. She now started to run back through the fleet, but here a new combination awaited her. The monitors had come \ip ! — the appearance of which seemed for a moment to disconcert the monster. From the first, he had shown a wholesome dread he signaled to the whole fleet. The little monitor Manhattan appeared directly in front of the ram, to head him off. The rest of the fleet formed a circle about the monster, and all commenced paying him their heaviest compliments. It was a ter- rible fire — eveiy ball that struck the union vessels did execution, making great holes in their sides and reddening their decks with blood; but every shot that struck the Tennessee glanced away like a rubber ball. To meet the exigency at this critical state of affairs, Farragut's vessels were put in motion, describing a circle about the mon- DNION KAVAL VICTUBY, LN MUBILfc: BAY. of them, and by skillful maneuvering and his greater speed had managed to avoid them. Now they hammered him to the utmost of their ability. The three had managed each to get a position in a differ- ent direction from each other, and which- ever way the ram turned he met these ugly and invincible foes. At first he was shy, and seemed irresolute as to what course to pursue, but finally seemed deter- mined to get out of the bad scrape by run- ning through the fleet back to the friendly protection of Fort Morgan. Now, then, Admiral Farragut's fine tactics developed themselves, and which ster, the sloops and monitors being directed to ram her every time they came around, which was done with deadly effect. Each vessel chased its leader about, throwing a broadside at the enemy at every opportun- ity, and at every chance getting a ball aj her. In this way the plucky fellow was ter ribly used. Every time one of the sloops came on to the Tennessee, the concussion was such as to throw the crew of the mon- ster off their feet. The frequency with which she was thus rammed, and the con- tinuous artillery fire that was rained upon her, so demoralized her men, that thej ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 595 are said to have begged to surrender, fear- ing, at every new shock, that they would be sent to the bottom. The course pur- sued by the vessels was cuch that the ram was unable to get range upon any of them so as to run them down, thus compelling the ram to remain passive. Or, if she attempted to escape the tormentors, an unlocked for enemy would come and strike her on the quarter, and throw her out of her course. During this melee, the Man- hattan got one good shot in directly at the ram's broadside. The huge ball of iron struck fairly at the lower angle of the heavy casemates and penetrated into the inside, spending its force in the effort. This was the only shot that ever passed through her iron. Against such odds in number, such cannonading and punching and entanglement, the ram could not con- tinue ; and so the formidable craft — her smoke-stack shot away, her steering chains gone, several of her port-shutters so jam- med by the shot that they could not be opened, and one of them battered to fragments, with the Chickasaw boring away at her stern, and four other great vessels coming at her full speed — finally succumbed, after a fight of somewhat more than an hour. On its being reported to Admiral Far- ragut that the Tennessee had duly sur- rendered, and that Admiral Buchanan was wounded, he sent a staff officer off to receive the confederate admiral's sword. Some one asked Farragut if he would not go off himself and see Buchanan. The former merely replied, " No, sir, he is my enemy." Subsequently, when the staff officer returned, with Buchanan's sword, it was represented to the admiral that Buchanan had expressed a wish to see him. " Well, sir, he shan't see me ! " replied the old Salamander. Then, look- ing with most concentrated expression of countenance upon the bloody decks of his ship, he added — " I suppose he would be friends ; but with these brave men, my comrades, man- gled, dying and dead about me, and, looking upon the destruction caused in the fleet, 1 can only cons"<<;r him an enemy." On the staff officer getting on board, Admiral Buchanan was found to be severely wounded in the leg. He yielded with a very bad grace — in fact, it was said that, after receiving his wound, he gave orders to his next in command to continue the fight as long as there was a man left ; and then, when he found he could do no more, to run the vessel ashore and blow her up. But there was no alternative — the ram must be surrendered ; and this was done. The stars and stripes were hoisted upon the staff of the magnificent ram — truly one of the most powerful and perfectly constructed of her class — greeted, as they went up, by the hearty and long-continued cheers of the whole fleet. Nothing could exceed the devotion of Admiral Farragut's men to their com- mander. Thus, after the Hartford had hauled off fi-om her fierce assault upon the Tennessee, and as she was again pointed fair for another blow, and thunderingly going down upon her to dash into her a second time, — suddenly, to the surprise of all, the Hartford was herself tremendously struck by one of the heaviest union vessels which was also coming down upon the con- federate monster, and it was thought for a brief moment, so fearful was the blow, that she must go down. Immediately, and high above the din of battle, hoarse, anxious voices were heard crying — " The admiral! the admiral! save the admiral! Get the admiral out of the ship ! " The brave men utterly forgot them- selves — thought not a moment of their own safety, but only of their glorious old admiral. Nothing, certainly, could better illustrate the attachment and devotion of the whole squadron for their admiral than this. When they themselves were in imminent peril of death, they only cared for him ! Finding the vessel would float, notwithstanding the possible serious re- sults ultimately, the brave old admiral turned to his gallant fleet-captain with the order — 596 ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. " Go on with speed ! Ram her again ! " Onward the Hartford sped, determined to ' do and die,' if need be ; but, just before she reached her, the white flag of surren- der was hoisted above the discomfited Tennessee, and soon all the victor^', over one of the bravest of foes, was with Far- ragut and his noble men. A little incident in this contest may also be cited here, as illustrating his high personal qualities as a man and officer, — exhibiting, too, as it does, one of the secrets of his courage and self-command, no matter what the stress or pressure of circumstances around him : "Admiral," said one of his officers, the night before the battle, " won't you con- sent to give Jack a glass of grog in the morning — not enough to make him drunk, but just enough to make him fight cheer- fully ? " " Well," replied the admiral, " I have been to sea considerable, and have seen a battle or two, but I have never found that I wanted rum to enable me to do my duty. I will order two cups of good coffee to each man, at two o'clock, and at eight o'clock I will pipe all hands to breakfast in Mobile Bay." The descriptions of this great naval action usually' represent Admiral Farra- gut as having tied himself among the rig- ging, or at the mast-head, of his ship, and there observing the battle and giving his directions. Concerning this, he was on a subsequent occasion inquired of by one of the gentle sex, as follows : "Admiral," said the lady, " do tell me if it was true, as they said, that you were lashed to the mast, down at Mobile Bay ? " "Ah ! " said the admiral, good natur- edly, " I'll tell you all about that. You know that in a fight the smoke of the guns lies on the water, and, naturally, I would want to see over it, to know what was going on. Well, I would jump upon a box — so high " (indicating with his hand) ; then I would get up a little higher; and by-and-by I got up to where they said. I suppose I was two hours get- ting as high as that. I had a little rope that I lashed around me, just to keep from falling, in case I should get hurt. Every one, you know, is liable to get hurt in a fight." Up to the time of the surrender of Fort Morgan, the union loss in all was one ship sunk by a torpedo, one burned through infraction of orders, and three hundred and thirty men killed and wounded, half of whom were killed by drowning or tlie fire of the enemy. On the other hand, the unionists took about fifteen hundred prisoners, captured the two best vessels of the confederates, forced them to burn the gun-boat Gaines, and drove the rest of their fleet beyond. Three forts, with one hundred guns of heavy caliber, with .'ill their material, were unconditionally sur- rendered to the victors. The United States steamer Oneida suffered more than any other vessel. The ram Tennessee varied somewhat in form from the grim old Merrimac, Bu- chanan's first monster. The Tennessee's armor consisted of two and a half inch iron, in bars eight inches wide, crossing each other, and bolted down with one anu three-quarter inch bolts, making five inches of solid iron. This again was backed by two feet of solid oak throughout the entire portion of the boat above the water-line, and extending some feet even below that. From her forward casemates forward, in- cluding her pilot-house, an additional inch of iron was given her, making six inches of plating, and an additional foot, making three feet of wooden backing, at this part of the boat. What may be called her gun- room occupied about two-thirds of her length, and was constructed with a flat tojj, composed of two and a half by eight- inch iron bars, crossed and bolted together, forming a close lattice-work above her gunners, and affording ventilation while in action. Her ports, two on either side, and one fore and aft, were closed by means of iron shutters, which revolved upon a pivot in the center of one side, and were worked by means of a cog-wheel on the inside, in a very simple and expe- ditious manner. In all her qualities of ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 597 ronstruction and equipment, the Tennessee was one of the most formidable craft that ever floated. In close connection with this vast and splendid series of achievements, and as having a direct bearing upon the victori- ous ending of the war by the valor of the navy, — in which operations the brave Admiral Porter exhibited his distinguish- ing characteristics of unquailing courage and consummate judgment, and whose magnificent services would have long since elevated him to the chief magistracy of his country, but for the traditionally dis- proportionate influence of the army in national politics and counsels, — the cap- ture of Fort Fislier, N. C, deserves to be here recorded. According to the official report, this expedition, under the joint command of Admiral Porter and General Terry, sailed from Fortress Monroe on the morning of January 6, 1865, arriving in two days at the rendezvous off Beaufort, where, owing to the difficulties of the weather, it iay some ten days, when it got under way, reaching its destination that evening. Under cover of the fleet, the disembarka- tion of the troops was effected without loss. An immediate reconnoissance was pushed to within about five hundred yards of the fort, a small advjince work being taken possession of and turned into a defensive line, against any attempt that might be made from the fort. This recon- noissance disclosed the fact that the front of the work had been seriously injured by the navy fire. Not many hours, therefore, were allowed to elapse before the fort was assaulted, and, after most desperate fight- ing, was captured, with its entire garrison and armament. Thus was secured, by the combined efforts of the navy and army, what — in the language of General Grant — was one of the most hi-illiant and important successes of the war. The fed- eral loss was one hundred and ten killed and five hundred and thirty-six wounded. On the 16th and 17th, the enemy, well knowing the nerve and prowess of Por- ter, abandoned and blew up Fort Caswell, and their works on Smith's Island, which were at once occupied by the federal forces, — thus giving to the latter the entire control of the mouth of the Oap« Fear river. LXXII. GRAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GEN. SHERMAN, THROUGH THE SOUTH.— 1864. Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to the Vic- tors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — Tlie Soutliern Confederacy Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resistless Movement. — The Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander. — His Great Military Suc- cess. — His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. — Brave and Confident Troops. — Atlanta, Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City: Starts for the Coast. — Kilpatrick Leads the Cav- alry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Successful Feints Made by Sherman. — Subsists His Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom Sealed. — Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas Gift to the President. — Advance Into South Carolina. — The Stars and Stripes in Her Capital. — All Opposition Powerless — North Carolina's Turn Next. — Swamps, Hills, Quagmires, Storms, Floods — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described Personally. "1 beg to prenent you, m n Chrintmaa Riff, the city of Snvannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guns, plenty of ommuDitiOD, and ■boot twenty-five tbouuand bales of cottou."— Gb.nekal buEEHAN TO Pkesiue.nt Lihcoln. !t^ A.LIANT, resolute, and hopeful as a soldier, Gen- ^^^^ eral Sherman added to these qualities the wisdom and genius of Washington himself as a commander. His March to the Sea has been universally pronounced, both in America and Europe, one of the most brilliant military results — esjiecially when con- sidered in connection with the slight cost of life at which it was achieved — presented in the long and varied historj' of war. It was, in a word, one of the greatest and most important of modern campaigns, conducted with complete success, without any considerable battle. And yet it was his own native sagacity, more than anything else, which enabled General Sherman to plan and execute the vast undertakings which have crowned his name with imperisha- ble honor. " I have oftentimes," said General Sherman, in an address at West Point, "been asked by friends familiar with Xenophon, Hume, and Jomini, in which of these books I had learned the secret of leading armies on long and difficult marches, and they seemed surprised when I answered that I was not aware that I had been influenced by UEAD-Q0ARTERS, ATLASTA, GA. SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 599 any of them. I told them what I now tell you, in all simplicity and truth, that, when I was a young lieutenant of artilleiy, I had often hunted deer in the swamps of the Edisto, the Cooper, and the Santee, and had seen with my own eyes that they could be passed with w^agons ; that in the spring of 1844, I had ridden on horseback from IMarietta, Ga., to the valley of the Tennes- see, and back to Augusta, passing in mv course over the very fields of Altoona, of Kenesaw, and Atlanta, where afterward it fell to my share to command armies and to utilize the knowledge thus casually gained. Again, in 1849 and 1850, I was in Cali- fornia, and saw arrive across that wild belt of two thousand miles of uninhabitable country the caravans of emigrants, com- posed of men, women, and children, who reached their destination in health and strength ; and when we used to start on a journey of a thousand miles, with a single blanket as covering, and a coil of dried meat and a sack of parched corn meal as food ; — with this knowledge fairly acquired in actual experience, was there any need for me to look back to Alexander the Great, to Marlborough, for examjiles ? " r>ut to all this kind of knowledge — useful, doubtless, in the highest degree. General Sherman added the possession of the most commanding military genius. It was early in IVIay, 1864, that General Sherman began the brilliant series of his campaigns. The first objective point was Atlanta. To reach that city, his armies had to pass from the northern limit to the center of the great state of Georgia, forcing their way through mountain defiles and across great rivers, overcoming or turning formidably intrenched positions defended by a strong, well-appointed veteran armj-, commanded by an alert, cautious, and skill- ful general. The campaign opened on the sixth of May, and on the second of Septem- ber the national forces entered Atlanta. For some time previously to the opening Liovement, says General Sherman's report, the union armies were lying in garrison seemingly quiet, from Knoxville to Hunts- ville, and the enemy lay behind his rocky- faced barrier at Dalton, proud, defiant, and exulting. He had had time since Christmas to recover from his discomfiture at Mission Ridge, with his ranks filled, and a new commander-in-chief, and second to none in the confederacy in reputation for skill, sagacity, and extreme popularity. All at once, the union armies assumed life and action, and appeared before Dalton. Threatening Rocky Face, they threw themselves ujion Resaca, the enemy only escaping by the rapidity of their retreat, aided by the numerous roads with which they only were familiar. Again the con- federate army took post in Altoona, but found no rest, for, by a circuit towards Dallas and subsequent movement to Ac- worth, the union army gained the Al- toona Pass. Then followed the eventful battles about Kenesaw, and the escape of the confederates across the Chattahoochee river. The crossing of the Chattahoochee and treaking of the Augusta road was handsomely executed by Sherman's army. It was at this stage of proceedings, that the confederate authorities became dissatisfied with Johnston as commander, and selected one more bold and rash, — General Hood. New tactics were adopted by the latter. He first boldly and rajjidly, on the twen- tieth of July, fell on the union right, at Peach Tree creek, and lost. Again, on the 22d, he struck the extreme union left, and was severely punished; and finally, again on the 28th, he unsuccessfully re- peated the attempt on the union right. Sherman slowly and gradually drew his lines about Atlanta, feeling for the rail- road which supplied the confederate army and made Atlanta a place of importance. The enemy met these efforts patiently and skillfully, but at last Hood made the mis- take which Sherman had waited for so long, sending his cavalry to the union rear, far beyond the reach of recall. In- stantly Sherman's cavalry was on Hood's only remaining road, with the principal army following quietly, and Atlanta fell into Sherman's possession, as the fruit of well-concerted measures, backed by a brave and confident army. 600 SHEEMAI>r'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. Hood's plan was, to force General Sher- man from Georgia, by cutting off his rom- munications, and invading Tennessee and Kentucky. Pursuant to this plan, Hood, by a rapid march, gained and broke up, at Big Shanty, the railroad that supplied Sherman's army, advanced to Dalton, and thence moved toward Tennessee. Hood was followed from Atlanta by Sherman far enough north to cover his own purpose and assure him against Hood's interrupting the march to the sea-coast which he had in contemplation. The task of encountering Hood's formidable movements, and defend- ing the border states from invasion, was intrusted to General Thomas, who was ably assisted by his second in command, General Schofield. It appears from Major Nichols's graphic diary of the events connected with this great march — the narrative of his excel- lent observations as one of Sherman's staff officers — that the general, from his camp at Gaylesville, while awaiting the develop- ment of Hood's design, sketched out the march to Goldsboro'. Seated in front of his tent, towards the end of October, 1864, with his generals around him, and the map of the states spread on his knees Sherman ran his finger over the map, and indicated his course to Savannah. Then, after pondering on the map of South Car- olina, his finger rested on Columbia, and looking up, he said — " Howard, I believe we can go there, without any serious difficulty. If we can cross the Salkahatchie, we can capture Columbia." After giving expression to this strik- ing strategic insight, General Sherman passed his finger quickly over rivers, swamps, and cities, to Goldsboro', N. C, saying — " That point is a few days' march through a rich country. When we reach that important railway junction — when I once plant this army at Goldsboro', — Lee must leave Virginia, or he will be defeated beyond hope of recovery. We can make this march, for General Grant assures me that Lee cannot get away from Richmond without his knowledge, nor without seri- ous loss to his army." This prediction, showing at once the most remarkable forecast and most com- prehensive generalship, was at once put in course of fulfillment. Atlanta having served its purpose in General Sherman's plans — a resting-place on bis way to Savannah, to Columbia, and to Richmond if need be, — it was given up to the flames, that its workshops might never again be employed in casting shot and shell for the confederacy. The rail- ways were torn up, the people turned away, and torches were applied to the stores and magazines. A space of two hundred acres was soon on fire, and its progress watched until the conflagration had spread beyond the power of man to arrest its destructive work, and then the _j,^ — <-•- union forces marched out of the unfortu- nate city with solemn tread, their band playing the wild anthem, "John Brown's soul goes marching on." The army num- bered about sixtj'-five thousand men. As the news of Sherman's great move- ment became known at the north, intense interest was felt in the result, and it may well be supposed that not a few were filled with the greatest apprehensions, in view of the dangers to be encountered. That the president, however, did not share in any such feeling of alarm in regard to thy issue, is shown by the following conversti- SHERMAN'S MAECH THEOUGH THE SOUTH. (JOi tion on the subject, between him and a friend. Said Mr. Lincoln's friend : " Mr. Lin- coln, as Sherman's army advances, the rebel forces necessarily concentrate and increase in number. Before long, Sher- man will drive the columns of Johnston, Bragg, Hoke, and others, within a few days' march of Lee's main army. May not Lee suddenly march south with the bulk of his army, form a junction with Johnston's troojjs, and before Grant can follow any considerable distance, strike Sherman's column with superior force, break his lines, defeat his army, and drive his broken fragments back to the coast, and with his whole army give battle to Grant, and perhaps defeat him ? " President Lincoln instantly replied: " And perhaps not! Napoleon tried the same game on the British and Prussians, in 1815. He concentrated his forces and fell suddenly on Blucher, and won an inde- cisive victory. He then whirled round and attacked the British, and met his Water- loo. Bonaparte was hardly inferior to Lee in military talents or experience. But are you sure that Lee's forces, united with Johnston's, could beat Sherman's army ? Could he gain his Ligny, before meeting with his Waterloo when he at- tacks Grant." I tell you, there is a heap of fight in one hundred thousand western veterans. They are a good deal like old Zach. Taylor at Buena Vista, — they donh know tvhen they are whip2}ed f " In turning his back upon Atlanta, Gen- eral Sherman divided his army for the great march into two wings. General Howard commanding the right, and Gen- eral Slocum the left ; General Kilpatrick handled the cavalry under Sherman's orders. The various corps composing the wings were led, respectively, by Generals Osterhaus, Blair, Davis, and Williams; and Sherman for a time accompanied one wing and then the other. On the 13th of November, Sherman's communications with the north ceased. Spreading itself out like a fan, the extreme left wing swept down the Augusta road. and the extreme right marched towards Macon, the space between being covered by two corps, one from each wing, and the cavalry riding well on the flanks. Mil- ledgeville, the capital of Georgia, on the Oconee, was the first point of concentra- tion for the left wing. The right wing, preceded and flanked by cavalry, went down the roads towards Macon, sweeping away the small opposing forces mustered by Cobb and Wheeler, and advancing as far as Griffin. The left wing went by Covington to Madison, and there, sending the cavalry towards Augusta, turned south- ward by way of Eatonton to Milledgeville. The right, after maneuvering in the direc- tion of Macon, crossed the Ocmulgee above it, and, passing by Clinton, descended upon Gordon, whence a branch line led to Milledgeville. The movement of troops on so many points had confounded the confederates. The autliorities of Augusta believed their town was the object of the march ; those of Macon were certain that it was against them the enemy was coming. In reality, Sherman had turned toward Macon, and had cut off at least the infantry force there, and rendered it useless. They showed fight, however, attacking a small union force, pushed up to Griswoldville to protect the confederates who were destroy- ing the railroad, and were punished se- verely for their courage. In a week after quitting Atlanta, the left wing was united at Milledgeville and the right at Gordon, while the cavalry were scouring the flanks. In the mean- time. General Wheeler had ridden round the right flank, and crossing the Oconee, had turned to defend the passage of the swampy stream. But his resistance was vain. Slocum moved out from Milledgeville upon Sandersville, and Howard marched on both sides of the Savannah railway, thrusting Wheeler away from the bridge over the Oconee, and crossing himself without the loss of a man. The left wing was now converging on Louisville, while the right struck across the country, by Swainsboro', upon Millen. It was now 602 SHEHMAN'S MAKCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. SHERMAN-S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 603 piain that the confederates had no troops strong enough to interrupt the march, as all their efforts had failed to arrest the forward movement of the columns. In this way, covering a wide front, now filing through swamps, now spreading out on a broad front under the tufted pines, now halting to tear up, twist, and burn rails and sleepers, now collecting cattle and forage, and everywhere welcomed and fol- lowed by the negroes, the army pressed forward to its goal. The left flankers came down through Sparta, the solid body of the left wing marched through Davisboro', the right moved steadily forward upon Millen, while Kilpatrick was in the front threat- ening Waynesboro', and destroying the bridges on the way to Augusta. At length the whole force, save one corps, crossed the Ogeechee and united at Millen. Here, again, Sherman kept his oppo- nents in doubt respecting the course he would pursue. At Millen he threatened both Augusta and Savannah, and he made such strong demonstrations on the Au- gusta road, that lie led the confederates to fear for Augusta, and so prevented them from concentrating their troops at Savan- nah. Kilpatrick, supported b}' two infan- try brigades, very effectually disposed of Wheeler. The army halted two days, and, refreshed and united, began on the second of December, its final march upon Savan- nah. The whole force, save one corps, went steadily down the strip of land be- tween the Savannah and the Ogeechee, while the one corps on the right bank, marching in two columns, a day in ad- vance of the main body, effectually pre- vented the confederates from making any stand on the main road by constantly flanking every position, — a sound precau- tion, though not needed. The correspondents who accompanied this grand army on its triumphant march, have furnished abundant narrative con- cerning that brilliant consummation of its toils, the capture of Savannah. It was on the evening of December 12th, says one of these, that General Howard relieved Hazen's second division of the fifteenth corps, by a part of the Seventeenth, and threw it across the Little Ogeechee, toward the Great Ogeechee, with the view of crossing it to Ossabaw Island, and reducing Fort McAllister, which held the river and the city. The confederates had destroyed King's bridge, across the Great Ogeechee, and this had to be re- paired ; this was done — one thousand feet of bridging — during the night, and, on the morning of the 13th, Hazen crossed and moved toward the point where Fort McAl- lister obstructed the river. Kilpatrick, in the meantime, had moved down to St. Catherine's sound, opened communication with the fleet, and asked permission to storm Fort McAllister; but Sherman thought the cavalry unequal to this feat. Hazen made his arrangements to storm the fort on the afternoon of the 13th, Gen- erals Sherman and Howard being at Che- roe's rice mill, on the Ogeechee, opposite the fort. Sherman was on the roof of the mill, surrounded by his staff and signal officers, Beckley and Cole, waiting to com- municate with Hazen, on the Island. While patiently waiting for Hazen's sig- nals, Sherman's keen eye detected smoke in the horizon, seaward. Up to this time he had received no intelligence from the fleet. In a moment the countenance of the bronzed chieftain lightened up, and he exclaimed — " Look ! Howard ; there is the gun- boat!" Time passed on, and the vessel now became visible, but no signal from the fleet or Hazen. Half an hour passed, and the guns of the fort opened simultaneously with puffs of smoke that rose a few hun- dred yards from the fort, showing that Hazen's skirmishers had opened. A mo- ment after, Hazen signaled — "I have invested the fort, and will assault immediately." At this moment, Beckley announced a signal from the gun-boat. All eyes now turned from the fort to the gun-boat that was coming to their assistance with news from home. A few messages pass, which apprisj that Foster and Dahlgren are 604 SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. within speaking distance. The gun-boat now halts and asks — " Can we run up ? Is Fort McAllister ours . "No," is the reply; "Hazen is just i-eady to storm it. Can jou assist ? " " Yes," is the response ; " What will you have us do ? " But before Sherman can reply to Dahl- gren the thunders of the fort are heard, and the low sound of small arms is borne across the three miles of marsh and river. Field glasses are opened, and, sitting flat upon the roof, the hero of Atlanta gazes away off to the fort. " There they go grandly — not a waver," he remarks. Twenty seconds pass, and again he ex- claims — "See that flag in the advance, Howard; how steadily it moves; not a man falters. * * There they go still ; see the roll of musketry. Grand, grand ! " Still he strained his eyes, and a moment after spoke without looking up — " That flag still goes forward ; there is no flinching there." A pause for a minute. " Look ! " he exclaims, " it has halted. They waver — no, it's the parapet ! There they go again ; now they scale it ; some are over. Look ! There's a flag on the works! Another; another. It's ours. The fort's ours ! " The glass dropped by his side ; and in an instant the joy of the great leader at the possession of the river and the open- ing of the road to his new base burst forth in words — " As the old darkey remarked, dis chile don't sleep dis night ! " — and turning to one of his aids, he added, " Have a boat for me at once ; I must go there ! " — pointing to the fort from which half a dozen battle-flags floated grandly in the sunset. But this dramatic scene is thus graphi- , cally delineated by another correspondent, who brings the narrative down to the cul- minating and crowning event. The United States revenue cutter Nemaha, Lieutenant Warner, General Foster's flug-boat, left Hilton Head, on the morning of December 12th, to go down the coast with General Foster and staff, to endeavor to open com- munication with General Sherman, going through to Fort Pulaski and thence through the marsh to Warsaw Sound, looking toward the main canal to discover some traces of Sherman's advance. None were observed, so Foster proceeded outside, and entered Ossabaw Sound, where the gun-boat Flag, on blockading dutj', was communicated with. Lieutenant Fisher was here left on board the Flag, to proceed with his party up the Ogeechee, and en- deavor to ='enal to Sherman, if he should approach the coast at that point. The Nemaha returned to Warsaw, and moved up the Wilmington river, anchor- ing just out of range of a confederate bat- terjf. During the night, rockets were thrown up by Captain Merrill, chief of ths signal corps, to announce his presence to General Sherman's signal officers, but elicited no response. Lieutenant Fisher was more successful. The Flag fired six guns in rapid succes- sion, from a heavy gun, as a signal, and then Lieutenant Fisher threw up several rockets and closely examined the horizon over the mainland for the response. At about three o'clock on the morning of the 13th, after a rocket had been discharged from the Flag, a little stream of light was observed to shoot up in the direction of the Ogeechee, and quickly die away. Another rocket was immediately sent up from the flag-ship, and a second stream of light was seen in the same position as the first. It then became a question, whether or not they were confederate signals to deceive the federal officers. At about seven o'clock, the navy tug Dandelion, acting master Williams, took Lieutenant Fisher and his party, and Cap- tain Williamson, of the flag-ship, and pro- ceeded up the Ogeechee, to a jjoint within sight of Fort McAllister and the batteries on the Little Ogeechee. Here Lieutenant Fisher took a small boat and proceeded up as far as possible without drawing the enemy's fire. A careful reconnoissance SHERMAJST'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. G05 was made of the fort and the surrounding woods, from which came the reports of musketry, and the attention of the garrison seemed to be directed inland entirely. A flag, which seemed like that of the Union, was seen flying from a house four miles off, and on more careful examination the stars were plainly visible, and all doubt of the character of the flag was at once removed. It was the flag that had floated over Gen- eral Howard's head-quarters at Atlanta, and now flamed out on. the sea-coast, within eight miles of the city of Savan- nah. Lieutenant Eisher at once returned to the tug, and moved up to an opening out of range of Fort McAllister, when, from the top of the pilot-house of the Dan- delion, the American flag could be dis- tinctly seen. A white signal flag was at once raised by Lieutenant Fisher, and at once a signal flag of like nature was waved, and communication opened. Lieutenant Eisher signaled — " Who are you ? " " McClintock, chief signal officer of General Howard," was signaled back. A message was at once sent to General Sherman, tendering all aid from General Eoster and Admiral Dahlgren. General Sherman then signaled that he was invest- ing Eort McAllister, and wanted to know if the boat could help with her heavy guns. Before any reply could be given, Sherman had signaled to Hazen, of the fifteenth corps, to take the fort immediately. In five minutes the rally had been sounded by the bugles. One volley of musketry was heard, and the next moment the three brigade flags of Hazen's troops were placed, almost simultaneously, on the par- apets of Fort McAllister. The fort was captured in twenty minutes after General Sherman's order to take it was given. Sherman then sent word that he would be down that night, and to look out for his boat. The tug immediately steamed down to Ossabaw Sound, to find General Foster or Admiral Dahlgren ; but they not being there, dispatches were sent to them at Warsaw, announcing General Sherman's intended visit, and the tug returned to its old position. While approaching the fort again a small boat was seen coming down. It was hailed with — "What boat is that ? " and the welcome response came back — " Sherman." It soon came alongside, and out of the little dug-out, paddled by two men, stepped General Sherman and General Howard, and stood on the deck of the Dandelion. The great leader was received with cheer after cheer. The city of Savannah, strongly fortified, and garrisoned bj- a large force under Gen- eral Hardee, was summoned, but surrender was refused. Preparations for assault were made, and, during the night of De- cember 20th, Hardee evacuated the city, and, with a large part of his garrison, escaped under cover of darkness. The union army soon after entered the city, and General Sherman thus announced to President Lincoln this splendid tri- umph : "/ beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy guns, arid plenty of ammunition, and also about 25,000 bales of cotton." Waiting at Savannah only long enough to refit and recruit, Sherman again began a march which, for peril, labor, and results, will compare with any ever made by an organized army. The floods of the Savan- nah, the swamps of the Combahee and Edisto, the high hills and rocks of the Santee, the flat quagmires of the Pedee and Cape Fear rivers, were all passed in mid-winter, with its floods and rains, in the face of an accumulating enemy. On the morning of February 17th, Gen- eral Sherman entered Columbia, the capi- tal of South Carolina. In about a month froji this time, and after fighting battles at Averysboro' and Bentonville, he made a junction with General Terry's forces at Goldsboro', N. C, and from this point pushed onward to Raleigh, where, on the 26th of April he received the surrender of the confederate army under Johnston, — the only remaining formidable confederate army in existence at that time east of the oou SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. Mississippi river, — thus virtually crushing the southern confederacy. Indeed, it was Sherman's intention not to stop short of Richmond, and only the great events con- summated a shoi't time previously at that important point, under Grant's masterly generalship, rendered this part of the pro- gramme unnecessary. At this time, the great warrior, as de- scribed by his accomplished aid-de-camp, Major Nichols, was in person nearly six feet in height, with a wiry, muscular, and not ungraceful frame. His age only forty- seven years, but his face furrowed with deep lines, indicating care and profound thought. With surprising rapidity, how- ever, these strong lines disappeared when he talked with women and children. His eyes dark brown, and sharp and quick in expression ; his forehead broad and fair, and sloping gently at the top of the head, the latter being covered with thick and light brown hair, closely trimmed ; his beard and moustache, of a sandy hue, were also closely cut. Of an iron consti- tution, exposure to cold, rain, or burning heat, seemed to produce no effect upon his powers of endurance and strength. Under the most haiassing conditions, he exhibited no signs of fatigue. When in the field he retired early, but at midnight he might be found pacing in front of his tent, or sitting b^' the camp-fire smoking his cigar. He would fall asleep as easily and as quickly as a little child, — by the roadside or upon wet ground, on the hard floor or when a battle stirred the scene ; but the galloping of a courier's horse down the road would instantly awaken him, as well as a voice or movement in his tent. As showing his thorough military spirit, it is related of him, that, before the fall of Atlanta, ho refused a commission of major-general in the regular army, saj'ing, " These positions of so much trust and honor should be held open until the close of the war. They should not be hastily given. Important campaigns are in operation. At the end, let those who prove their capacity and merit be the ones appointed to these high honors." The great captain was in a short time made lieutenant-general, and, subsequently, on the accession of General Grant to the presidency, he Decaue Gen- eral OF THE Army, — a military rank and title conferred only upon three per- sons, since the founding of the republic, namely, Washington, Grant, Sherman. LXXTII. FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE CAPITAL.— 1865. The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by Genpral Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of Steel. — Fliglit of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army — Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The jEgis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant — Transports of Joy Fill the Land. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace. — Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. — Without it, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of the Final Crisis — Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat of Lee: Vigorous Pursuit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant — Their Correspondence and Inter- view. — The Two Great Generals Face to Face.— What was Said and Done — Announcing the Result. — Parting of Lee with His Soldiers — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond — Raising the United States Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe. '*lproDOde uflj^ht it oat oa thlB line, if it takea all summer."— Oenebal Gba^t's Dispatch rsou THE Field. OEy. GRAST STATING TERMS OF SURRENDER EEXES crossing the Hellespont with his miles of troops and flotilla, and over which vast concourse, he wept, it is said, as it passed in review, was not a more memorable illustration of the pomp and circumstance of war, than that wh.'ch was exhibit- ed in 1864 and 1865 by the Union army under Gen- eral Grant, which, like a wall of steel, beleaguer- ed the entrenched citj' of Richmond — the strong- hold of his country's foes, — and brought it, in April of the last-named year, to submission and surrender ; and with which event, the hosts that had been gathered by a powerful confederacy for the overthrow of the republic, melted away in defeat and disaster, the disunion chieftains became fugitives, and the long strife of arms ceased throughout the nation. This event has been justly characterized as far more momentous than any other that is likely to happen in our time, and which will always make 1865 one of the great years of history — putting it, in fact, in the same category with the first year of the Christian era, . the year in which Home was sacked, in which 608 FALL OF KICHMOND. Europe was saved from the Saracens, in wliich Luther began to preach the Reform- ation, in which Parliament drew the sword against Charles I., and in which the first shot was fired in the American Revolu- tion ; a year, in short, in which events marked the commencement of a new and important stage in human progress. That the foe thus vanquished was not an inferior one is shown by the single fact, — if by no other — as stated by one of the most reliable authorities in such matters, that, in the whole history of war, no city has been purchased by a conqueror at so heavy a price as it cost to take Richmond. Napoleon took Berlin, Vienna, and Mos- cow, each in a single campaign, and, when the scale of fortune turned, the Allies entered Paris in two successive years. Sebastopol resisted the English and French armies for thirteen or fourteen months, and four or five battles were fought in the hope of raising the siege. For nearly four years, Richmond was the principal object of siege and attack by the union armies, and probably half a million of men were at different times employed in at- tempting its conquest. After the disas- ter at Bull Run had shown the federal government the deficiencies of its military organization. General McClellan command- ed an army of not far from two hundred thousand men on the Potomac, and he land- ed more than half the number in the Pe- ninsula, while his colleagues defended the approaches of Washington. The losses of the union army in the disastrous campaign of the Chickahominy, and in the subsequent defeat of General Pope, were variously estimated from fifty thousand all the way up to one hundred thousand men. Burn- side's loss, in his attack upon the heights of Fredericksburg, was not far from fifteen thousand men, and about the same result attended the struggle between Generals Lee and Hooker, in 1863. The magnifi- cent union victory at Gettysburg, involv- ing so great a loss of life, was included in the same campaign. It was not till the earl}' summer of 1864, that General Grant commenced his final advance upon Rich- mond, and the battles which ensued in the Shenandoah and in the neighborhood of Petersburg, added largelj' to the record of bloodshed. Great and most precious, how- ever, as was the cost of final victory to the union army, its final defeat instead would have been at the cost of the existence of the Republic ! The splendid military conceptions of General Sherman, and their perfect execu tion, had much to do with hastening the downfall of Richmond and the collapse of the southern confederac}-, nor can the brave and effective movement of General Sheri- dan in the same relation be too highly eulogized by his countrjmen. Of the lat- ter general's services, at this most excit- ing and momentous crisis. General Grant says : " During the 30th, (March, 1865.'> Sheridan advanced from Dinwiddie Court- House towards Five Forks, where he found the enemy in force. General Warren advanced and extended his line across the Boydton plank road to near the White Oak road, with a view of getting across the latter ; but finding the enemy strong in his front, and extending beyond his left, was directed to hold on where he was and fortify. General Humphreys drove the enemy from his front into his main line on the Hatcher, near Burgess's mills. Gen- erals Ord, Wright, and Parke, made exam- inations in their fronts to determine the feasibility of an assault on the enemy's lines. The two latter reported favorably. The enemy confronting us, as he did, at every point from Richmond to our extreme left, I conceived his lines must be weakly held, and could be penetrated if my esti- mate of his forces was correct. I deter- mined, therefore, to extend my line no further, but to re-enforce General Sheri- dan with a corps of infantrj', and thus ena- ble him to cut loose and turn the enemy's right flank, and with the other corps as- sault the enemy's lines." With what soldierly gallantry Sheridan and his colleagues fulfilled the parts as- signed them by their superior, is thus related by the latter. " On the morning of the 31st, General Warren reported fa- FALL OF RICHMOND. 609 vorably to getting possession of the White Oak road, and was directed to do so. To accomplish this, he moved with one divis- ion, instead of his wliole corps, which was attacked by the enemy in superior force and driven back on the second division before it had time to form, and it, in turn, forced back upon the third division, when the enemy was checked. A divis- ion of the second corps was immedi- ately sent to his support, the enemy driven back with heavy loss, and possession of the White Oak road gained. Sheridan advanced, and with a portion of his cavalry got possession of the Fi%'e Forks, but the enemy, after the affair with the fifth corps, re-enforced the rebel cavalry, defending that point with infantry, and forced him back towards Dinwiddle Court-House. Here General Sheridan displayed great generalship. Instead of retreating with his whole command on the main army, to tell the story of superior forces encount- ered, he deploj-ed his cavalry on foot, leav- ing only mounted men enough to take charge of the horses. This compelled the enemy to deploy over a vast extent of woods and broken country, and made his progress slow. At this juncture, he dis- patched to me what had taken place, and that he was dropping back slowly on Din- widdle Court-House." Never was the trib- ute of praise more worthily bestowed, than this by the greatest of American heroes upon General Sheridan. But still more important events were hastening. "On the morning of the 1st of April," says General Grant, " General Sheridan, re-enforced by General Warren, drove the enemy back on Five Forks, where, late m the evening, he assaulted and carried his strongly fortified position, capturing all his artillery, and between five and six thousand prisoners. About the close of this battle. Brevet Major- General Charles Griffin relieved Major- Geueral Warren, in command of the fifth corps. The report of this reached me after nightfall. Some apprehensions filled my mind lest the enemy might desert his lines during the night, and by falling upon 39 General Sheridan before assistance could reach him, drive him from his position and open the way for retreat. To guard against this. General Miles's division of Humphrey's corps was sent to re-enforce him, and a bombardment was commenced and kept up until four o'clock in the morn- ing, April 2d, when an assault was ordered on the enemy's lines. General Wright penetrated the lines with his whole corps, sweeping ever3'thing before him and to the left towards Hatcher's Run, capturing many guns and several thousand prisoners. He was closely followed by two divisions of General Ord's command, until he met the other division of General Ord's that had succeeded in forcing the enemy's lines near Hatcher's Run. Generals Wright and Ord immediately swung to the right, and closed all of the enemy on that side of them in Petersburg, while General Hum- phreys pushed forward with two divisions and joined General Wright on the left. General Parke succeeded in carrying the enemy's main line, capturing guns and prisoners, but was unable to carry his inner line. General Sheridan being advised of the condition of affairs, returned Gen- eral Miles to his proper command. On reaching the enemy's lines immediately surrounding Petersburg, a portion of Gen- eral Gibbon's corps, by a most gallant charge, captured two strong, enclosed works — the most salient and commanding south of Petersburg — thus materially shortening the line of investment necessary for tak- ing in the city. The enemy south of Hatcher's Run retreated westward to Sutherland's station, where they were overtaken by Miles's division. A severe engagement ensued and lasted until both his right and left flanks were threatened by the approach of General Sheridan, who was moving from Ford's station towards Petersburg, and a division sent by Gen- eral Meade from the front of Petersburg, when he broke in the utmost confusion, leaving in our hands his guns and many pDsoners. This force retreated by the main road along the Appomattox river. During the night of the second, the enemy 610 FALL OF RICHiMOND. FALL OF RICHMOND. 611 evacuated Petershiirg and Richmond, and retreated toward Danville. On the morn- ing of the 3d, pursuit was commenced. General Sheridan pushed for the Danville road, keeping near the Appomattox, fol- lowed by General Meade with the second and sixth corps, while General Ord moved lor Burkesville along the South Side road, the ninth corps stretched along that road behind him," — these combined movements being made with such rapidity and effec- tiveness, that Lee's army could have no expectation of escape founded upon any reasonable probability. By the night of Tuesday, April 4th, Sheridan and the fifth corps had, by a march of thirty-six miles, gained a position west of Lee, near Jettersville, on the road to Burkesville. This movement resulted the next day in the capture of a train of three hundred wagons, with five cannon and a thousand prisoners. On Wednes- day, Grant, with the twentj'-fourth corps, had reached Nottoway Court-House, and there learned by a dispatch from Sheridan that Lee had been intercepted. On Thurs- day, Grant had brought his army up to Sheridan's support, and with the second, fifth, and sixth corps, lay in line of battle at Burke's Station, facing to the north and east, and cutting Lee off from Dan- ville. Lee then tried to move on toward Lynchburg, by taking a circuitous route by way of Deatonsville, toward the Appo- mattox, which he hoped to cross, and, with the river between him and Grant, secure his retreat. Lee was compelled to fight at DeatonsviUe, where he was defeated, his loss amounting to thirteen thousand prisoners, including Lieutenant-General Ewell and Major-Generals Custis Lee, Kershaw, Corse, DeBarry, Anderson, Hun- ton, and Barton. Fourteen cannon were also taken, and several hundred wagons. On Friday, April 7th, Grant wyote briefly to Lee, asking him to surrender " that portion of the Confederate States army known as the Armj- of Northern Virginia." He said : " The result of last week must convince you of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the army of Northern Virginia in this struggle." Lee replied the same day, saying that though he was not entirely of Grant's opin- ion as to the hopelessness of further resistance, he reciprocated the desire to avoid useless effusion of blood, and asked upon what terms Grant would accept the surrender. On tbe 8th, Grant again wrote, declaring that he should insist upon but one condition, namely : " That the men surrendered shall be disqualified for taking up arms again against the government of the United States until properly exchanged." To this, Lee replied that he did not think the emergency had arisen to call for the surrender, but desired an interview at ten o'clock the next day, on the old stage road to Richmond, in respect to the restor- ation of peace. On the ninth. Grant wrote that he had no authority to grant such an interview. He said : " The terms upon which peace can be had are well understood. By the South laying down their arms they will hasten that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives and hundreds of millions ol property not yet destroyed." In taking the ground that he did in this correspondence, Grant acted expressly in accordance with the views entertained by his superiors at Washington. It ap- pears that among the dispatches which Grant had sent to the president, about this time, was one in which he spoke of an application to be made by Lee for an interview to negotiate about peace. Mr. Lincoln intimated pretty clearly an inten- tion to permit extremely favorable terms, and to let his general-in-chief settle them ; and this even to an extent that overpow- ered the reticent habits of his secretary of war, who, after restraining himself as long as he could, broke out sternly, saying — " Mr. President, to-morrow is inaugura- tion day If you are not to be the presi- dent of an obedient and united people, you had better not be inaugurated. Your work is already done, if any other author- ity than yours is for one moment to be recognized, or any terms made that do not signify that you are the supreme head of 6j2 FALL OF RICHMOND. the nation. If generals in the field are to negotiate j)eace, or any other chief magistrate is to be acknowledged on the continent, then you are not needed, and you had better not take the oath of office." "Stanton,'' said the president — his whole tone changing, " you are right. Let ine have a pen." Mr. Lincoln sat down at the table and wrote as follows : " The President directs me to say to \ ou that he wishes you to have no confer- ence with General Lee, unless it be for the capitulation of Lee's army, or on some minor or purely military matter. He instructs me to say that you are not to decide, discuss, or confer on any political question ; such questions the president holds in his own hands, and will submit them to no militar3- conferences or conven- tions. In the meantime, you are to press to the utmost your military advantages." The president now read over what he had written, and then said — " Now, Stanton, date and sign this jjaper, and send it to Grant. We '11 see about this peace business." Grant's note declining any interview to consider terras of peace was received l)y Lee on the spot which he had desig- nated for the meeting. Ou receipt of this, Lee at once dispatched another note, requesting a personal interview for the object named in Grant's previous commun- ication — the surrender of Lee's army. A flag of truce proceeded to Appomattox Court-House shortly after noon, and at aliout two o'clock the two generals met at the house of Mr. W. McLean. Gener.al Lee was attended bj' General Marshall, his adjutant-general ; General Grant, by Colo- nel Parker, one of his chief aids-de-camp. General Grant arrived about fifteen min- utes later than General Lee, and entered the parlor where the latter was awaiting him. The two generals greeted each other with dignified courtesy, and after a few moments conversation, proceeded to the business before them. Lee immediately alluded to the conditions named by General Grant for the surrender, characterized them as exceedingly lenient, and said he would gladly leave all the details to Gen- eral Grant's own discretion. Of this inter- view. General Grant himself gave the following interesting account to some friends, at a private dinner-party in Wash- ington : " I felt some embarrassment in the pros- pect of meeting General Lee. I had not seen him since he was General Scott's chief-of-staff in Mexico ; and in addition to the respect I entertained for him, the duty which I had to perform was a dis- agreeable one, and I wished to get through it as soon as possible. When I reached Appomattox Court-House, I had ridden that morning thirty-seven miles. I was in my campaign clothes, covered with dust and mud ; I had no sword ; I was not even well mounted, for I rode (turning to Gen- eral Ingals, who was present,) one of Ingals's horses. I found General Lee in a fresh suit of confederate gray, with all the insignia of his rank, and at his side the splendid dress-sword which had been given him by the state of Virginia. We shook hands. He was exceedingly courteous in his address, and we seated ourselves at a deal table in Mr. McLean's front room. We talked of two of the conditions of sur- render, which had been left open bj' our previous correspondence, one of which re- lated to the ceremonies which were to be observed on the occasion ; and when I dis- claimed any desire to have any parade, but said I should be contented with the delivery of arms to my officers, and with the proper signature and authentication of paroles, he seemed to be greatly pleased. When I yielded the other point, that the officers should retain their side arms and private baggage and horses, his emotions of satisfaction were plainly visible. We soon reduced the terms to writing. We parted with the same courtesies with which we had met. It seemed to me that Gen- eral Lee evinced a feeling of satisfaction and relief when the business was finished. I immediately mounted Ingals's horse, re- turned to General Sheridan's head-quarters, FALL OF RICHMOND. 613 and did not again present myself to the confederate commander." The house in which this most memora- ble interview took place was a comfortable and well-built double brick house, with a small green lawn in front. The occupant, Mr. McLean, lived in 1861 at Bull Run, and owned the farm on which the first and famous Bull Run battle was fought. It was in consequence of the disturbed state of the country and the annoyances to which he was subjected, that he aban- doned his place, and took refuge in the distant town of Appomattox. Here he purchased some land and settled quietly down, as he thought, beyond the tide of war. But fate followed him ; for, about four years after he left the Bull Run farm, the southern army was surrounded at Appomattox, and the last battle as well as the first was fought on his farm ! The large marble-topped center table, on which the two generals signed the minutes, was of a somewhat antiquated style, and was afterwards purchased by General Ord for fifty dollars. General Custer purchased the other table, of small size, on which the documents were prepared, for twenty-five dollars. After the interview. General Lee re- turned to his own camp, about half a mile distant, where his leading oflScers were assembled, awaiting his return. He an- nounced the result and the terms, where- upon they expressed great satisfaction at the liberal conditions. They then ap- proached him in order of rank, shook hands, and assured him of their approval of his course, and their regret at parting. The fact of surrender and the easy terms were then announced to the troops, and when General Lee appeared among them he was loudly cheered. Immediately after the evacuation of Richmond, General Weitzel, with the second brigade of the third division of the twentj'-fourth army corps, entered the city and took possession, hoisting the United States flag at every prominent point, and on the next day President Lincoln visited the fallen capitaL His appearance was greeted with tumultuous cheering, though he came with no pomp of attendiince or surroundings, and totally unheralded. He arrived in a United States war vessel, early in the afternoon, at the landing called the Rocketts, about a mile below the city, and thence, accompanied by his young son and Admiral Porter, went to the city in a boat. Mr. C. C. Coffin, (" Carleton,") the accomplished corre- spondent of the Boston Journal, in giving an account of this presidential visit, says that somehow the negroes on the bank of the river ascertained that the tall man wearing a black hat was President Lin- coln. Th.ere was a sudden shout. An ofiicer who had just picked up fifty negroes to do work on the dock, found himself alone. They left work, and crowded around the president. As he approached, I said to a colored woman, — " There is the man who mado you free." " What, massa ? " " That is President Lincoln." " Dat President Linkum ?" « Yes." She gazed at him a moment, clapped her hands, and jumped straight up and down, shouting " Glory, glorj', glory !" till her voice was lost in the universal cheer. There was no carriage near, so the presi- dent, leading his son, walked three-quarters of a mile up to General Weitzel's head- quarters — Jefferson Davis's presidentiul mansion. A colored man acted as guide. Six sailors, wearing their round blue caps and short jackets and bagging pants, with navy carbines, were the advance guard. Then came the president and Admiral Porter, flanked by the officers accompan}'- ing him, and the correspondent of the Boston Journal, then six more sailors with carbines, — amid a surging mass of men, women, and children, black, white, and yellow, running, shouting, and dancing, swinging their caps, bonnets and hand- kerchiefs. The soldiers saw him and swelled the crowd, cheering in wild enthu- siasm. All could see him, he was so tall, so conspicuous. 614 FALL OF EICHMOND. One colored woman, standing in a door- way, a8 the president passed along the sidewalk, shouted, " Thank you, dear Jesus, for this ! thank you, Jesus ! " Another, standing by her side, was clap- ping her hands and shouting, " Bless de Lord ! " A colored woman snatched her bonnet from her head, whirled it in the air, and screamed with all her might, " God bless }'ou, Massa Linkum ! " President Lincoln walked in silence, acknowledging the salutes of oiScers and f-oldiers, and of the citizens, black and white. It was the man of the people among the people. It was the greft de- liverer among the delivered. General Shepley met the president in the street, and escorted him to General Weitzel's quarters. Major Stevens, hearing that the president was on his way, suddenly summoned a detachment of Massachusetts cavalry, and cleared the way. After a tedious walk, the mansion of Mr. Davis was reached. The immense crowd swept round the corner of the street and packed the space in front. General Weitzel received the president at the door. Cheer upon cheer went up from the excited mul- titude, two-thirds of whom were colored. The officers who had assembled were presented to the president in the reception room, and then citizens innumerable paid him their respects; after which the presi- dent took a ride through the city, accom- panied by Admiral Porter, Generals Shep- Jey and Weitzel, and others. All this took place only a few hours sifter the flight of Davis. Early in the forenoon of that eventful Sunday, Lee tel- egraphed to his chief, that his lines had been broken in three places and that Rich- mond must be evacuated in the evening. This message was delivered to Davis at eleven o'clock, while he was in church. He immediately left, and, arranging his affairs as well as time would permit, pro- ceeded with his cabinet to Danville. Pol- lard, the historian of the southern cause, states that the rumor was caught up in the streets that Richmond was to be evac- uated, and was soon carried to the ends of the city. Men, women, and children, rushed from the churches, passing from lip to lip news of the impending fall. It was late in the afternoon when the signs of evacuation became apparent to the in- credulous. Wagons on the streets were being hastily loaded at the departments with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the Danville depot. Those who had deter- mined to evacuate with the fugitive govern- ment looked on with amazement; then, convinced of the fact, rushed to follow the government's example. Vehicles suddenly rose to a premium value that was astound- ing. All over the city it was the same — wagons, trunks, boxes, bundles, and their hurrying owners, filling the streets. By order of the military authorities, all the spirituous liquor in the city was destroyed, but some of it was seized and used by the straggling soldiery, who thereupon commit- ted the grossest excesses. The great tobacco warehouses were also, by mili- tary order, set on fire, as were also the various bridges leading out of the city, and the rams in James river were blown up. The whole scene was awful in the extreme. At Danville, Davis set up the form and machinery of his government, issuing at once a stirring address, in which he said : " We have now entered upon a new phase of the struggle. Relieved from the neces- sity of guarding particular points, our army will be free to move from point to point, to strike the enemy in detail far from his base." Waiting here, in expect- ation of Lee's arrival with his army, the news of the surrender of the latter reached him on the 10th of April. Dismayed at the tidings, Davis hastil}' made his escape to Greensboro, N. C, and afterwards, with various baitings, to Charlotte, N. C, and thence to Washington and Irwinsville, Ga., where he was captured. May 11th, by the union cavalry, and carried, a prisoner, to Fortress Monroe. This was, in form, the close of the war. General Johnston surrendered his army at Raleigh, N. C, April 26th, to General Sherman. Gener.il Howell Cobb, with his militia and fiva TALL OF EICHMOND. 610 generals, surrendered to General Wilson, at Macon, Ga., Ajiril 20th. Gen. Dick Taylor surrendered all the remaining con- federate forces east of the Mississippi to General Canby, May 14th ; and, on the 26th of the same month, Gen. Kirby Smith surrendered his entire command, west of the Mississippi, to the same oiBcer. On the 14th of April, — just four years from the memorable bombardment and evacua- tion, — the flag of the United States was planted again upon Fort Sumter, under the orders of the president, by the hands of General Anderson, its commander in April, 1861. The close of this mi-ghty struggle, assur- ing the world of the continued nationality of the American Union, filled the land with such transports and demonstrations of joy as were never before known among any people ; and the laurels of the nation covered the brow of Grant, the hero of mighty battles — the Conqueror of Peace. By special act of congress, the full and supreme rank of General — a title never worn by a United States commander since the days of the illustrious Washington, — was revived and conferred upon Grant ; and, as the highest honor in the gift of hia countrymen, he was in 1SG9 transfer- red from the command of the army to the exalted position of President of the United States, in which station he remained eight years. One event, in especial, among the clus- ter just named in connection with the closing scenes of the Great Conflict, de- serves more than a passing mention here, namely, the He-possession of Fort Sumter, and the restoration to its original place on that historic spot, by General Anderson, of the identical JIaf; which, after an honora- ble and gallant defense, he was compelled to lower in April, 1861. This ceremony of re-occupation took place, as ordered by President Lincoln, on Friday, April 14th, 1865, in presence of several thousands of spectators. Among the company were Generals Gillmore, Dix, Washburne, Doubleday, Anderson, Dela- field, Grover, Hatch, and Saxton, Eev. Henry Ward Beecher, William Lloyd Garrison, George Thompson, Assistant Sec- retary Fox, of the Navy Department, Professor Davis, and some two hundred oiScers of the navy. The spectators were conveyed from Charleston to the fort by steamers, and the ceremonies were ushered in at noon with a song and chorus entitled ' Victory at Last.' Prayer was now offered by Rev. Mat- thias Harris, chaplain United States Army, who made the prayer at the raising of the flag when Major Anderson suddenly removed his command from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter, December 27th, 1860. Eev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, then read selections of scripture, after which, Adju- tant-General Townsend read Major Ander- son's dispatch, dated steamship Baltic, ofi Sandy Hook, April 18th, 1861, announcing the fall of Fort Sumter. Major-General Anderson and Sergeant Hart then stepped forward on the platform and unfurled the glorious old banner, amid the deafening cheers of the assemblage. As they raised the flag, with an evergreen wreath attached, the occupants on the stage all joined in taking hold of the hal- yards. The scene of rejoicing that fol- lowed, as the flag reached the top of the staff, was indescribable. The enthusiasm was unbounded. There was a simultane- ous rising, cheering, and waving of hats and handkerchiefs, for fully fifteen minutes. As the starry emblem floated out grace- fully to the strong breeze, the joyful dem- onstrations were repeated, which were responded to by music from the bands, a salute of one hundred guns at Fort Sumter, and a national salute from every fort and battery that fired upon Sumter in April, 1861. When this was over, General Ander- son came forward and said — "I am here, friends and fellow-citizens, and brother soldiers, to perform an act of duty which is dear to my heart, and which all of you present appreciate and feel. Did I listen to the promptings of my own heart, I would not attempt to speak ; but I have been desired by the secretary of war to make a few remarks. By the con- 616 FALL OF RICHMOND. siderate appointment of the honored secre- tary of war to fulfill the cherished wish of nj}' heart through four long years of bloody war — to restore to its proper place this very flag which floated here during peace, before the first act of this cruel rebellion — I thank God I have lived to see this day, to be here to perform this, perhaps the last act of duty to my country in this life. My heart is filled with gratitude to Almighty God for the signal blessings he has given us — blessings beyond number. May all the world proclaim ' Glory to God in the highest ; on earth, peace and good will toward men.' " The 'Star Spangled Banner' was then sung by the whole audience, with great feeling and effect ; after which, Eev. Henry Ward Beecher delivered a com- memorative oration of great eloquence and power. The doxology, with devotional services, closed the public exercises of the day ; and, with cheers for President Lin- coln, the old Flag, the Union, Generals Grant, Sherman, and ethers, the vast mul- titudb separated. LXXIV. ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S THEATER, WASHINGTON, BY J. WILKES BOOTH.— 1865. Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government — The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim. — A Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in the History of the '"ountry — Funeral Cor- tege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. — Ohject of this Most Infamous of Crimes — Singular Time of its Perpetration. — Virtual End of the Great Civil War — Dawn of I'eace : Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Hanny Frame of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Con- versations on the Kvening of April Hth. — .Makes an Engagement for the Morrow — Last Time He Signed His Name. — Keluctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late : Immense Audience — Plans and Movements of Booth, the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : A Tragedy of Horrors — Removal of the Presi- dent to a Private House. — Speechless and Unconscious to the End — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents. — The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General Lee. _ — A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most -^_ __ _ Imposing Obsequies Ever Known — Booth's Switt S&'-^j-^ and Bloody End.— Trial of His Male and Female •^ "^ Accomplices. — *■ Mnum ve for him ? let him be reaarded A^ the mnsl noble coree Uiat ever herald Uid loliow to his urn." MR. LINC(;)LN S E.\RLV HOME. EVIEWING the great procession of events ■n-liich distinguish the ninety years cov- ered by our national existence, up to the present time, there is, confessedly, none of the many during that period, which shows so dark and terrihle a page, — none which so paralyzed the heart of the nation, or sent sucli a thrill of agony through the four continents of the globe, causing world-wide sorrow and lamentation, — as the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, president of the United States, by John Wilkes Booth, at Ford's Theater, in the capital of the nation, on the night of April 14th, 1865. .And this bloody deed was but one act in the diabol- ical conspiracy which contemplated the simultaneous murder of the chief ofiScers of state, at the federal capital, to the end that panic might there seize upon the govern- ment and nation, and treason and anarchy assert their sway over a republic in ruins. And yet, the time chosen for this most appalling conspiracy was that which was marked by the virtual close of the great war which for four long years had filled the land with carnage and death ; the prowess of General Grant had shattered the plans of the ablest military chieftains of the south : General Sherman had consummated his grand march from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence through South Carolina ; all the 618 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. chief cities of the south \yere occupied by the union forces ; Lee had surrendered his sword, and President Lincoln had just visited the city of Richmond, so recently the confederate stronghold ; and Jefferson Davis was a fugitive, who had then barely escaped capture. The demonstrations of joy at the now certain conclusion of hostil- ities, and the dawn of peace, were univer- sal ; and by no one, in all the land, was this joy shared so fully as by President Lincoln. Of the president's happy frame of mind, now that victory had everywhere crowned the federal arms, and he was entering on FORD 8 THKATElt, IX WASHINGTOK. his second presidential term under the auspices of prospective peace, something may be judged by the incidents repre- sented to have transpired in connection with his private and personal intercourse, during the last day of his life. On the morning of that fatal day, Captain Robert Lincoln, son of the president, and who had just returned from the capitulation of Gen- eral Lee, breakfasted with his father, and the president passed a happy hour listen- ing to all the details. While thus at breakfast, he heard that Speaker Colfax was in the house, and sent word that he wished to see him immediately in the reception room. He conversed with him nearly an hour, on his future policy as to the south, which he was about to submit to the cabinet. Afterwards he had an interview with Mr. Hale, minister to Spain, and with several senators and representa- tives. At eleven o'clock, the cabinet and General Grant met with him, and, in one of the most important and satisfactory cabinet sessions held since his first inau- guration, the future policy of the adminis- tration was harmoniously and unanimously agreed on. Secretary Stanton remarking that he felt that the government was stronger than at any previous period since the rebellion commenced. Turning to General Grant, Mr. Lincoln asked him if he had heard from General Sherman. General Grant replied that he had not, but was in hourly expectation of receiving dis- patches from him announcing the sur- render of Johnston. The president re- plied : " Well, you will hear very soon, and the news will be important." " Why do you think so ? " inquired General Grant, somewhat in a curious mood. " Because," said Mr. Lincoln, " I had a dream, last night, and, ever since the war began, I have invariably had the same dream before any very important military event has occurred." He then instanced Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, etc., and said that before each of those events he had had the same dream, and, turning to Secretary Welles, continued, " It is in your line, too, Mr. Welles. The dream is, that I saw a ship sailing very rapidly, and I am sure that it portends some important national event." In the afternoon, the president had a long and pleasant interview with General Oglesby, Senator Yates, and other leading citizens of Illinois. At about half-past seven o'clock in the evening, Hon. George Ashmun, of Massa- chusetts, who presided over the Chicago Convention in 1860, called at the White House, and was ushered into the parlor, where Mr. Colfax was seated, waiting for ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 619 an interview with the president, on busi- ness which liad a bearing on his proposed overland trip. A few moments elapsed, when President Lincoln entered the room, and engaged in conversation upon various matters, appearing to be in a very happy and jovial frame of mind. He spoke of his visit to Richmond, and when they stated that there was much uneasiness at the north while he was in that city, for fear that he might be shot, he replied, jocularly, that he would have been alarmed himself if any other person had been pres- ident and gone there, but that personally he did not feel any danger whatever. Conversing on a matter of business with Mr. Ashmun, he made a remark that he saw Mr. Ashmun was surprised at, and, though not very important, he immediately said, with his well-known kindness of heart, — " You did not understand me, Ashmun. I did not mean what you inferred, and I take it all back and apologize for it." Mr. Ashmun desiring to see him again, and there being no time to attend to it then, the president took out a card, and placing it on his knee, wrote as follows : " Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come to me at nine A. M., to-morrow. April 14, '65. A. Lincoln." These were the last words that he penned. It was the last time that he signed his name to any order, document or message. The last words written by him were thus making an engagement for the morrow — an engagement which he was not allowed to meet. Before the hour had arrived he was no more. After sicninfr the card, he said, humorously, to Mr. Colfax, — "Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Con- federate Congress, which he got at Rich- mond, to hand to the secretary of war ; but I insisted then that he must give it to you, and j'ou tell him for me to hand it over." Mr. Ashmun here pleasantly alluded to the gavel which he himself still had — the same one he had used when presiding over the Chicago Nominating Convention of 1860. President Lincoln finally stated that he must go 1o the theater, and, saying, " You are going with Mrs. Lincoln and me to the theater, I hope," warmly pressed Speaker Colfax and Mr. Ashmun to accompany them, but they excused themselves on the score of previous engagements. It was now half an hour after the time when they had intended to start, and they spoke about waiting half an hour longer, — the president going with reluctance, as Gen- eral Grant had that evening gone north, and Mr. Lincoln did not wish the people to be disappointed, it having been an- nounced in the afternoon papers that the president, Mrs. Lincoln, and General Grant, would attend the theater that even- ing, to witness the representation of the "American Cousin." At the door, Mr. Lincoln stopped and said, — " Colfax, do not forget to tell the people in the mining regions, as you pass through them, what I told you this morning about the development when peace comes, and I will telegraph you at San Francisco." Starting for the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln took the arm of Mr. Ashmun, and the president and Mr. Colfax walked together. As soon as the president and Mrs. Lincoln were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln gave orders to the coachman to drive around to Senator Harris's residence, for Miss Harris. As the carriage rolled away, they both said '' Good-b}-, — Good- by," to Messrs. Ashmun and Colfax. A few moments later, and the presidential party of four persons, namely, the presi- dent and Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and Major Rathbone, arrived at the theater and entered the front and left-hand upper private box. The deeply-laid plan of Booth to murder the president was soon to culminate in horrid and fatal execution. According to the very reliable account given by the Hon. H. J. Raymond, in his biography of the martyred president, and in which account there is exhibited the most pains- taking synopsis of the accumulated evi- dence concerning Booth's movements, the murderer made his appearance at fifteen 620 ASSASSIN ATIOX OF PEESIDEI^T LINCOLN. THE ASSASSIXATIuN OF PItESU>ENT LISCOLH. minutes after ten, passed along the pas- sage behind the spectators in the dress- circle, showed a card to the president's messenger, and stood for two or three min- utes looking down upon the stage and the orchestra below. He then entered the vestibule of the president's box, closed the door behind him, and fastened it by brac- ing a short plank against it from the wall, so that it could not be opened from the outside. He then drew a small silver- mounted Derringer pistol, which he car- ried in his right hand, holding a long double-edged dagger in his left. All in the box were intent on the proceedings upon the stage ; but President Lincoln was leaning forward, holding aside the curtain of the box with his left hand, and looking, with his head slightly turned, towards the audience. Booth stepped ■within the inner door into the box, directly behind the president, and, holding the pistol just over the back of the chair in which he sat, shot him through the back of the head. Mr. Lincoln's head fell slightly forward, and his ej^es closed, but in every other respect his attitude remained unchanged. The report of the pistol startled those in the box, and Major Eathbone, turn- ing his eyes from the stage, saw, through the smoke that filled the box, a man standing between him and the president. He instantly sprang tow.ards him and seized him ; but Booth wrested himself from his grasp, and, dropping the pis- tol, struck at him with the dagger, in- flicting a severe ■wound upon his left arm, near the shoulder. Booth then rushed to the front of the bos, shouted "Sic semper f)/rannis / '^— put his hand upon the railing in front of the box, and leaped over it upon the stage below. As he ■went over, his spur caught in the flag which draped the front, and he fell ; but recovering himself immediately, he rose, brandished the dagger, and facing the audience, shouted, " The South is avenged/" He then rushed across tho stage towards the passage which led to tho ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 621 stage door in the rear of the theater. An actor named Hawke was the only jjersoii on the stage when Booth leaped upon it, and seeing Booth coming *:owards him with the dagger in his hand, he ran off the stage and up a flight of stairs. Booth ran through the passage-way beside the scenes, meeting one or two persons only, whom he struck from his path, went out at the door wliich stood open, and which he closed behind him, and mounting a horse which he had brought there, and which a lad was holding for him, he rode over the Anacosta bridge, across the east branch of the Poto- mac, safel}' escaping to Lower Maryland. It is impossible to describe the scene which transpired in that box and in that vast audience, on the discovery that the president was shot. Suffice it to say, that the surgeon-general and other phj'sicians were immediately summoned, and their skill exhausted in efforts to restore him to consciousness. An examination of his wounds, however, showed that no hopes could be given that his life would be spared. Preparations were at once made to re- move him, and he was conveyed to a house immediately opposite, and there placed upon a bed, the only evidence of life being BOUSE WUEKE LlNCuLX DIED. an occasional nervous twitching of the hand and heavy breathing. At about half- past eleven, the motion of the muscles of his face indicated as if he were trying to speak, but doubtless it was merely muscu- lar. His eyes protruded from their sock- ■fcts and were suffused with blood. At his bedside were the secretaries of war, the navy and the interior ; the post- master-general and attorney-general ; Sen- ator Sumner; General Todd, cousin to Mrs. Lincoln; Major Hay, Mr. M. B. Field, General Halleck, General Meigs, Eev. Doctor Gurley, the phj-sicians, and a few other persons. All were bathed in tears ; and Secretary Stanton, when in- formed by Surgeon-General Barnes, that the president could not live until morning, exclaimed, "Oh, no. General; no — no;" and with an impulse, natural as it was unaffected, immediately sat down and wept like a child. Senator Sumner was seated at the right of the president, near the head, holding the right hand of the president in his own ; he was sobbing like a woman, with his head bowed down almost ujion the pillow of the bed. In an adjoining room were Mrs. Lincoln, and several others. Mrs. Lincoln was in a state of great excitement and agony, wringing her hands and exclaiming, '• Why did he not shoot me, instead of my husband ! I have tried to be so careful of him, fearing something would happen, and his life seemed to be more precious now than ever. I must go with him ! " — and other expressions of like character. She was constantlj' going to and from the bedside of the president, say- ing in utter grief, "How can it be so!" The scene was heart-rending. Captain Robert Lincoln bore himself with great firmness, and constantly endeavored to assuage the grief of his mother by telling her to put her trust in God and all would be well. Occasionallj', however, being entirely overcome, he would retire by him- self and give vent to most piteous lamen- tations. At four o'clock, the symptoms of restless- ness returned, and at six the jjremonitions of dissolution set in. His face, which had been quite pale, began to assume a waxen transparency, the jaw slowly fell, and the teeth became exposed. About a quarter of an hour before the president died, his breathing became very difficult, and in many instances seemed to have entirely 622 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. ceased. He would again rally and breathe with so great difficulty as to be heard in almost every part of the house. Mrs. Lincoln took her last leave of him about twenty minutes before he expired, and was sitting in the adjoining room when it was announced to her that he was dead. When this announcement was made, she exclaimed, " Oh ! why did you not tell me that he was dj'ing ! " The surgeons and the members of the cabinet, Senator Sumner, Captain Robert Lincoln, General Todd, Mr. Field, and one or two more, were standing at his bed-side when he breathed his last. Rob- ert Lincoln was resting himself tenderly upon the arm of Senator Sumner, the mutual embrace of the two having all the affectionateness of father and son. The surgeons were sitting upon the side and foot of the bed, holding the president's hands, and with their watches observing the slow declension of the pulse, and watching the ebbing out of the vital spirit. He lingered longer than was expected ; until, at twenty-two minutes past seven o'clock, in the morning, April fifteenth, the physician said, with solemn accent and overpowering emotion, — " He is gone ; he is dead." Such was the deep stillness, in that awful presence, at the fatal announcementj that for the space of five minutes the tick- ing of the watches could be distinctly heard. All stood transfixed in their posi- tions, speechless, breathless, around the dead body of that great and good man. At length the secretary of war broke the silence and said to Rev. Doctor Gurley, "Doctor, will you say anything?" He replied, "I will speak to God." "Doit just now," responded the secretary. Ami there, by the side of the fallen chief, a fer- vent prayer was offered up, at the close of which there arose from the lips of the entire company a fervid and spontaneous " Amen." No adequate portrayal can be given of the effect upon the public mind, of the murder of the president, as the news was borne along the telegraphic wires, from one end of the land to the other. Stunned, bewil- dered, incredulous, at first, the tears and wailing of a whole nation were soon manifest — deep answering unto deep — to an extent and degree never be- fore witnessed since the death of Washington. A pang of hor- ror seized every heart, in this darkest hour of ■ the country's history, the emblems of mourn- ing shrouded the land in very darkness — its streets, its habita- tions, its churches, its halls of justice, its Capitols, — funeral pageants everywhere hushed the noise of business, — and the solemn voice of eulogy and lamentation, and the sound of dirge and requiem, filled the air, from the mountains of the nortli to the prairies and valleys of the west ami the golden slopes of the far-off Pacific. If, in the blind and fatal mistake of sectional antagonism or partisan bitterness, this most infamous of human crimes found apologists, there were, at least, some nota- ble exceptions to this feeling. Thus, when the tidings reached Richmond, Gen- eral Lee at first refused to hear the details of the horrid deed, from the two gentlemen who waited upon him on Sunday night ASSASSINATION" OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. ti23 vrith the particulars. He said, that when he dispossessed himself of the command of the confederate forces, he kept in view Pres- ident Lincoln's benignity, and surrendered as much to the latter's goodness as to Grant's artillery. The general said that he regretted Mr. Lincoln's death as much as any man in the north, and believed him to be the epitome of magnanimity and good faith. On the nineteenth of April, the New World witnessed the most imposing fu- neral ceremonies that ever took place this side of the Atlantic, or perhaps in the whole world. The body, which had been embalmed, lay in state in the Green Room of the White House, the coffin resting upon a magnificent catafalque, and the The description given by Holland, of the procession in the federal metropolis, will apply, in its main features, to all the corteges in the various cities through which the honored remains passed. " Ev- ery piazza, window, verandah and house- top, was filled with eager but mournful faces. Funereal music filled the sweet spring air ; and this was the only sound, except the measured tread of feet, and the slow roll of wheels upon the pavement. As the hearse, drawn by six gray horses, reached the capitol grounds, the bands burst forth in a requiem, and were an- swered by minute-guns from the fortificar tions. The body of the president was borne into the rotunda, where Doctor Gur- ley completed the religious exercises of the I.12sCOLN'S KESIDENCi: AI slJ;lNGFIELD, ILL. grand room overflowing with flowers which had poured in from innumerable sources. The public exercises took place in the East Room, being conducted by Rev. Drs. Hall, Gurley, and Gray, and Bishop Simpson. The throng of dignitaries, embracing rep- resentatives of the army and navy, sena- tors and members of congress, judges, for- eign ambassadors, governors of the states, and other high officials, was such as had never before been gathered together in the executive mansion. From the latter place, the body of the illustrious deceased was conveyed, along Pennsylvania Avenue, to the great rotunda of the nation's capitol, thence to be carried to their last resting- place in Oak Ridge cemetery, Springfield, LL occasion. Here the remains rested, ex posed to public view, but guarded by sol- diery, until the next day. Thousands who had no other opportunity to take their farewell of the beloved dust thronged the capitol all night. The procession which moved from the White House, April 19th, was but the beginning of a pageant that displayed its marvelous numbers and its ever-varying forms, through country, and village, and city, winding across the terri- tories of vast states, along a track of more than fifteen hundred miles." During this period, millions gazed upon the loved features of the departed president. It was on the twenty-first of April, that the remains were started upon their mourn- ful journey to Springfield, 111. They were G24 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. taken to that city by the route he pursued while on his way from his western home to be inaugurated in Washington. Balti- more, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, New York, Albany', Buffalo, Cleveland, Columbus, In- dianapolis, and Chicago, were visited in the order named, and at each place, as well as all along the route, there were most extraordinary demonstrations of re- spect and sorrow. Millions of people manifested, by every possible means and token, their deej) sense of the public loss, and their appreciation of the exalted vir- tues which adorned the life of Abraham Lincoln. All classes, without distinction of politics or creeds, spontaneously united in the posthumous honors. The funeral at Springfield was on a beautiful May day. At noon, the remains were brought from the state house, in the same Learse ■which had borne the bodies SERGEANT BOSTOS COBBETT. of General Lyon and Thomas H. Benton. The hearse was surmounted by a crown of flowers. From the portico, as the proces- sion advanced, a vast chorus of voices filled the air with the strains of "Children of the Heavenly King" The ceremonies were under the immediate direction of General Hooker. A dirge was sung; and after the reading of scripture, a prayer, and a hjmn, the president's second inau- gural address was read. A dirge suc- ceeded, after which Bishop Simpson de- livered the funeral oration before the great audience there assembled, and from the midst of which went forth many an ejacu- lation of uncontrollable sorrow. And the illustrious and beloved president, so recently the most ex- alted of mortal rulers, was buried in his own tomb. But before the noble departed had been consigned, amidst the tears and lamenta- tions of a whole continent, to the earth's bosom, John Wilkes Booth, the perpetra- tor of the greatest of modern crimes, had met his doom, and most of his co-conspirar tors — Atzerodt, Doctor Mudd, Payne, Har- old, Mrs. Surratt, O'Laughlin, Arnold, and Spangler — were in the clutches of the law. It was Payne, who, at the same time that ISooth's bullet sped its fatal course, en- acted his part of the conspiracy in which Booth was chief, by entering the sick chamber of Secretary Seward, stabbing him in the throat, and then escaping. It was at Mrs. Surratt's house that the con- spirators had met and laid their plans. As alleged, Atzerodt was to have taken the life of Vice-President Johnson. O'Laugh- lin was assigned to murder General Grant or Secretary Stanton. Harold was the body companion of Booth. Spangler as- sisted in Booth's escape from the theater. Mudd had held interviews with Booth and John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. Surratt named above, and had also attended to Booth's leg, crippled by his getting entan- gled with the flag that decorated the pre.=i- dent's box. Arnold was originally in the plot, but quarreled, and left it. Booth was but twenty-seven years old at the time of his crime, by profession an actor, long known for his dissipated habits, and for his ardent devotion to the southern cause. He was born in Harford county, Md., his father being the once celebrated actor, Junius Brutus Booth, and his brother being Edwin Booth, also famous on the stage. Immediately after the murder. Colonel Baker, of the detective service, set out to find Booth's hiding-place. He soon sue ceeded in capturing Atzerodt and Mudd. A negro was then arrested, who said he had seen Booth and another man cross the Potomac in a fishing boat. Colonel Baker sent to General Hancock for twenty-five ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 625 mounted men to aid him in the pursuit. These were sent under Lieutenant Dough- erty, and Baker placed them under the control of Lieutenant-Colonel Conger, and of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker, and dispatched them to Belle Plain, with orders to scour the country about Port -oyal. Vt Port Royal they found one Rollins, uohemian, who referred them to a negro named Lucas as having driven two men a short distance toward Bowling Green, in a wagon. These men perfectly answered the description of Booth and Harold. Some disbanded men, it was learned, be- longing to Mosby's command, took Booth under their protection on the way to Bowling Green, a small court-house town in Caroline county. To that place. Baker and his party immediately proceeded, and there found the captain of the confederate cavalry, from whom they extorted a state- ment of Booth's whereabouts ; this was at the house of a Mr. Garrett, which they had already passed. Returning with the captain for a guide, the worn-out command halted at Garrett's gate, at two o'clock on the morning of April 26th. Without noise, the house was surrounded, and Baker went up to the kitchen door at the side, and rapped. An old man in half undress undrew the bolts, and had scarcely opened the door before Baker had him by the throat with a pistol at his ear, and asked, " Where are the men who stay with you ? " Under the menace of instant death, the old man seemed paralyzed, but at Baker's order lit a candle. The question was then repeated. " TLey are gone," replied the old man. Soon a young boy appeared, and told Baker the men he sought were in the barn. The barn was then surrounded. Baker and Conger went to the door. The former called out, signifying his intention to have a surrender on the part of the men inside, or else to fire the barn, and shoot them on the spot. The j'oung boy was sent in to receive their arms. To the boy's message Booth answered with a curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed 40 him. The boy then came out, and Baker repeated his demand, giving Booth five minutes to make up his mind. Booth replied — " Who are you, and what do you want with us ? " " We want you to deliver up your arms and become our prisoners," said Baker. " But who are you ? " " That makes no difference. We know who you are, and we want you. We have here fifty men with carbines and pistols. You cannot escape." " Captain," said Booth, after a pause, " this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I am being taken by my own friends." He then asked time to consider, which was granted. After a little interval. Baker threatened to fire the barn, if they did not come out. Booth replied that he was a cripple, and begged a chance for his life, declaring that he would fight them all at so many yards apace, and that he would never be taken alive. Baker an- swered that he did not come there to fight but to capture him, and again threatened to fire the barn. "Well, then, my brave boys," said Booth, " prepare a stretcher for me." Harold now wanted to surrender, and, in the midst of a shower of imprecations from Booth, did so. Conger then set fire to the barn. The blaze lit up the black recesses of the great barn till every wasp's nest and every cobweb in the roof was visible, fling- ing streaks of red and violet across the tumbled farm-gear in the corner, and bath- ing the murderer's retreat in a vivid illu- mination, — and, while in bold outline his figure stood revealed, they rose like an impenetrable wall to guard from sight the dreadful enemy who lit them. Behind the blaze, with his eye to a crack. Conger saw Wilkes Booth standing upright upon a crutch. At the gleam of fire. Booth dropped his crutch and carbine, and on both hands crept up to the spot to espy the incendiary and shoot him dead. His eyes were lustrous as with fever, and ' swelled and rolled in terrible anxiety, 626 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. while his teeth were fixed, and he wore the expression of one in the calmness pre- ceding frenzy. In vain he peered, with vengeance in his look ; the blaze that made him visible concealed his pursuers. A second he turned glaring at the fire, as if to leap upon and extinguish it, but the flames had made such headway that this was a futile impulse, and he dismissed it. Aa calmly as upon the battle-field a vet- bett fired through a crevice and shot Booth in the neck. They then took up the wounded man and carried him out on the grass, a little way from the door, beneath a locust tree. Conger went back to the barn, to see if the fire could be put out, but found it could not, and returned to where Booth was lying. Before this (sa/s Lieutenant Conger, in his official account), I suppoaea BUBIAL PLACE OF LINCOLN. eran stands amidst the hail of ball and shell and plunging iron. Booth turned at a man's stride and pushed for the door, ■weapon in poise, and the last resolve of deaths-despair — set on bis high, bloodless forehead. At this instant. Sergeant Boston Cor- him to be dead ; he had all the appearanoc of a dead man ; but when I came back, his eyes and mouth were moving. I called immediately for water, and put some on his face. He seemed to revive, and at- tempted to speak. I put my ear down to his mouth, and heard him say, "TeU my ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 627 mother I died for my country." I re- peated the words to him, and said, "Is that what you would say ? " He said " Yes." They carried him to the porch of Garrett's house, and laid him on a straw bed or tick. At that time he revived con- siderably, and could talk in a whisper, so as to be intelligibly understood. He could not speak above a whisper. He wanted water; I gave it to him. He wanted to turn on his face ; I said he couldn't lie in that position. He wanted to be turned on his side ; we turned him on his side three times, but he could not lie with any com- fort, and asked immediately to be turned back. He asked me to put my hand on his throat, and press down, which I did. He said " Harder ; " I pressed as hard as I thought necessary. He made a very strong exertion to cough, but was unable to do so. I suppose he thought there was blood in his throat. I asked him to put out his tongue, which he did. I said, "There is no blood in your throat." He repeated several times, "Kill me! kill me ! " I replied, " I do not want to kill you. I want j'ou to get well." When the doctor arrived, whom Conger had sent for, Booth asked to have his hands raised and shown him. "When this was done, he muttered " Useless, useless ! " These were his last words. He died about four hours after being shot. The solemn trial of the other accom- plices in this great crime of conspiracy and murder, soon took place in the city of Washington, before a military commission consisting of Generals Hunter, Howe, Harris, Wallace, Kautz, Foster, Ekin ; Colonels Olendenin, Tompkins, and Bur- nett ; Judges Bingham and Holt. The last named held the position of Judge- Advocate-General of the court, and Major- General Hunter officiated as president. The charges upon which Paj'ne was arrested and tried were, that he was a confederate of Booth in the general con- spiracy to kill the president, vice-president. General Grant, and Secretary Seward, so as thus to deprive the army and navy of a constitutional commander-in-chief, and to prevent a lawful election of president and vice-president by the vacancy thus made in the office of secretary of state, — the duty of the latter officer being, in case of the death of the president and vice-president, to cause an election to be held for presi- dential electors. The arraignment of all the parties was upon this general charge, with specifications in each case. Against Payne, the specification wao that of attempting to kill Secretary Sew- ard. Presenting himself at the door of Mr. Seward's residence, he gained admis- sion by representing that he had a pre- scription from Mr. Seward's physician, which he was directed to see administered, and hurried up to the third-story chamber, where Mr. Seward was lying sick. He here discovered Mr. Frederick Seward, struck him over the head, inflicting severe wounds, and then rushed into the room where Mr. Seward was in bed, attended by a young daughter and a male nurse. The assassin stabbed the latter in the lungs, and then struck Secretary Seward with a dagger twice in the face and twice in the throat, inflicting terrible wounds. By this time Major Seward, eldest son of the sec- retary, and another attendant, reached the room, and rushed to the rescue of the sec- retary ; they were also wounded in the conflict, and the assassin escaped. Spangler, who was employed at the the- ater, was tried for aiding and assisting Booth to obtain an entrance to the box in which President Lincoln sat in the thea- ter, and for barring or obstructing the door of the passage-way, so as to hinder pursuit. Atzerodt was charged with lying in wait to murder Vice-President Johnson, at the Kirkwood House, where the latter was stopping. He took a room at that house, on the morning of April 14th, and was there at different times during the day and evening, under suspicious circumstances. Though in active co-operation with Booth and his accomplices, he failed in executing the part particularly delegated to him. In the further programme of the great conspiracy, O'Laughliu was to take the r.'^S ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. life of Geneidl Grant, and on tliis charge and specification he was indicted and tried, though he failed, like Atzerodt, to accom- plish the bloody deed. Mrs. Surratt was charged with having " on or before the sixth day of March, 1865, and on divers other days and times between that day and the twentieth of April, 1865, received, entertained, har- bored and concealed, aided and assisted " the conspirators in the execution of their plans. She was charged with being cog- nizant of tlie intended crime almost from its inception, becoming an active partici- pant and general manager. With Doctor Mudd, it was charged, she planned the means and assistance for the escape of the assassins, and visited Mudd at five o'clock on the day of the assassination, to see that certain weapons were in readiness. Booth had frequent interviews at her house, and was with her on the afternoon of the fourteenth. The part taken by Docioi Mudd, in the tragedy, was described in the indictment as that of an accomplice. He was, it ap- peared, in the confidence of Booth several months prior to the assassination. In January, he had an interview with John H. Surratt and Booth, at the National Hotel. He introduced Booth to Surratt, and was visited by Booth at the Pennsyl- vania House. When the assassins fled to his house, he dressed Booth's wound and assisted in the escape of both Booth and Harold. When the officers called at his J house, soon after the assassination, he denied that he knew either of the crimin- als, but subsequent!}', after his arrest, he admitted the fact of his acquaintance with Booth ; both of the fugitives were well cared for by him at his house. Arnold was tried for being one of the original conspirators, but it was not charged that he maintained any active relation to the plot at the time appointed for its execution. His guilt consisted in being an accomplice before the act. Harold's complicity admitted, of course, of no doubt. On the night of the assas- sination he was seen at the livery stable with Booth, and on various occasions he was known to have held secret meetings with Booth, Atzerodt, and others of the conspiracy, at Mrs. Surratt's and else- where. During his flight with Booth, he acknowledged to confederate soldiers that he and Booth had made way with the president. Atzerodt, Harold, Payne, and Mrs. Sur- ratt, were found guilty of crimes deserving death, and were hanged therefor on the seventh of July, 1865. Arnold, O'Laugh- lin, and Mudd, were sent to the Dry Tor- tugas for hard labor during life ; and Spangler for sis j^ears of hard labor, at the same place. John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. Surratt above named, and who was also indicted, fled to Europe ; being discovered, he was arrested and sent to Washington, but, after a protracted trial by jury, en- caped conviction. LXXV. STTCCESSFITL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.— 1866. The Old World and tlie New United by Instantaneous Communication.— Pronounced the Grandest of Human Enierprises —Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task —The Name of Its Indomitable Pnijecior Crowned with Immortal Honor —Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of this New-Born Agent of Civilization.— Ocean Telegraphs Early Predicted —First Attempt in 1867.— Breaking of the Wire— Fresh but Abortive Trials in '58 and '65.— Great Preparations for 1866.— Exquisite Construction of the Cable — A Wealthy and Powerful Company— Cyrus W. Field, Its Mas- ter Spirit.— Employment of the Great Eastern.— Laying the Shore End at Valentia— Rejoicing of the Inhabitants —Voyage of the Fleet to America —Incidents and Accidents.— Intense Solicitude, Day and Night.— A Joyous Morning ! July 27th.— Perfect Success from End to End— First News Dispatch, Peace in Europe.— Messages Between the President and Queen.— Compliments to Mr. Field.— His Interview with Lord Clarendon —John Bright's Sparkling Tribute.— Moral Uses of the Cable. "HEiKT's Content. July 27111. We arrived her« at nine o'clock, this rooming. All well. Thank Ood, the coble it laid, and Is In rerftct WOTUDtc order. — Lyrus w.riBi.». ' , i- i ^NECESSARY would be the task of detailing, in this place, — aJditioual to those pages already devoted to Pro- fessor Morse's grand discovery, and its practical appli- cation the world wide, — the technical principles and operations involved in the science of telegraphic com- munication. It was early declared by Professor Morse, and by other sEOTiox OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE, distinguished investigators of the nature and powers of the electric current, that neither the ocean itself, nor the distance to be traversed, pre- sented any insuperable obstacle to the laying of submerged oceanic lines from conti- nent to continent, and tiie confident prophecy that such lines would eventually be undertaken was freely uttered and discussed in learned circles. It was not, however, until the year 1857, that an attempt was made to stretch a tele- graphic wire across the bed of the Atlantic. The cable was coiled half on board the United States steamship Niagara, and half on the British steamer Agamemnon. They began to lay it in mid-ocean on the 26th of June, the Niagara proceeding toward the American coast, the Agamemnon toward Ireland. After the wire had three times broken, the attempt was given up. The following August it was renewed on a different plan. The shore-end was made fast at Valentia Bay, and the Niagara began jaying out on the seventh, the arrangement being that the Agamemnon should begin ojierar tioiis when the Niagara had exhausted her half of the cable. On the eleventh, after three hundred and thirty-five miles had been laid, the wire broke again. The third attempt was made with the same vessels m lHoS. The ends of the cable were joined 630 LAYESTG OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. in mid-ocean, July 29th, and, August 6tli, the two vessels arrived simultaneously at their respective destinations. This cable ■worked for a time, but the electric current grew weak and finally failed altogether. But these repeated failures, though a severe disappointment to those engaged in the great and costly enterprise, did not destroy their faith in its feasibility, and the mighty task was begun anew, advan- tage being taken of whatever instruction past experience could furnish or suggest. Especial care had, it is true, been exer- cised in the previous undertaking, to have the construction of the cable itself as per- fect as possible. It was the result of many months' thought, experiment, and trial. Hundreds of specimens were made, comprising every variety of form, size, and structure, and most severely tested as to their powers and capabilities ; and the result was the adoption of one which, it was believed, possessed all the properties required, in a far higher degree than any cable that had yet been laid. Its flexibil- ity was such as to make it as manageable as a small line, and its strength such that it would bear, in water, over six miles of its own weight suspended vertically. The conducting medmm consisted not of one single straight copper wire, but of seven wires of copper of the best quality, twisted round each other spirally, and capable of undergoing great tension without injury. This conductor was then enveloped in three separate coverings of gutta percha, of the best quality, forming the core of the cable, round which tarred hemp was wrapped, and over this, the outside cover- ing, consisting of eighteen strands of the best quality of iron wire, — each strand com}X)sed of seven distinct wires, twisted spirally, in the most approved manner, by machinery specially adapted to the pur- pose. Such was the exquisitely constructed cable used on this occasion. Great attention was al-so paid to the arrangement of the apparatus for paying out. The machine for this purpose was placed on deck in the after-part of the vessel, and somewhat on the starboard side. to be clear of the mast, etc. The cable, as it came up from its enormous coils in the hold, passed first through a guiding groove and over a deeply grooved wheel, on to the drums, each of the latter being furnished with four deep grooves, each groove being cut one-eighth of an inch deeper than the former to allow for slack. The cable, after winding round these drums, passed on from the last groove over another guiding wheel, to a distinct piece of machinery, also standing on the deck, and half-way between the brakes and the ship's stern. Here a grooved wheel worked on a sliding frame, furnished with weights fixed on a rod, which ended in a jiiston, inside of a cylinder, full of water. This piston, being made not quite large enough to fit the cj'linder, the water hud room to plaj' about it, but with difiiculty — so that, yielding freely to every alteration of pressure, it could do so to none with a jerk, as the piston required some little time to dislodge the water from one side of it to the other, it acting, in short, as a water cushion. From this last piece of machinery the cable passed over a wheel or sheave projecting well over the stern of the ship, and so down into the ocean depths. So intelligent and powerful an associa- tion as that which had this great enter- prise in charge — an association composed of some of the leading merchants and cap- italists of England and America, guided by the wonderful genius of Mr. Cyrus W. Field, — might well be supposed incapable of j'ielding to defeat, and thus it was that, until success finally and beyond all perad- venture crowned their efforts, they con- tinued their tests and trials of improved machinery and cables, availing themselves of every resource of science, and even bringing into requisition, at last, the mag- nificent conveniences of conveyance af- forded by that " leviathan of the deep," the steamer Great Eastern. In this way, certain facts and principles were arrived at, and demonstrated by trials and expeditions conducted in accordance therewith, which showed plainly what had been the errors of the past, and what LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 631 should be the governing rules of future operations. Among these facts and princi- ples were the following : It was proved by the expedition of 1858, that a submarine telegraph cable could be laid between Ireland and Newfoundland, and messages transmitted. By the expedition of 1865 — when the cable was lost — it was demonstrated that the insulation of a cable improves very much after its submersion in the cold deep water of the Atlantic, and that its conducting power is considerably increased thereby ; that the steamship Great East- ern, from her size and constant steadiness, and from the control over her afforded by the joint use of paddles and screw, ren- dered it safe to lay an Atlantic cable in any weather ; that in a depth of over two miles, four attempts were made to grapple the lost cable, in three of which the cable was caught by the grapnel, and in the other the grapnel was fouled by the chain attached to it ; that the paying- out machinery used on board the Great Eastern worked perfectly, and could be confidently relied on for laying cables across the Atlantic ; that with the im- proved telegraphic instruments for long submarine lines, a speed of more than eight words per minute could be obtained through such a cable as that sunk between Ireland and Newfoundland, as the amount of slack actually paid out did not exceed fourteen per cent., which would have made the total cable laid between Valentia and Heart's Content nineteen hundred miles ; that the lost Atlantic cable, though capa- ble of bearing a strain of seven tons, did not experience more than fourteen hun- dred-weight in being paid out into the deepest water of the Atlantic between Ireland and Newfoundland ; that there was no difiiculty in mooring buoys in the deep waters of the Atlantic between Ireland and Newfoundland, and that two buo}'s even, when moored by a piece of the Atlantic cable itself, which had been pre- viously lifted from the bottom, had ridden out a gale ; that more than four nautical miles of the Atlantic cable had been recovered from a depth of over two miles, and that the insulation of the gutta percha covered wire was in no way what- ever impaired by the depth of water or the strains to which it had been sub- jected by lifting and passing through the hauling-in apparatus ; that the cable of 1865, owing to the improvements in- troduced into the manufacture of the gutta percha core, was more than one hundred times better insulated than cables made in 1858, then considered perfect ; that the electrical testing could be con- ducted with such unerring certainty as to enable the electricians to discover the 4ir-^^ existence of a fault immediately after its production or development, and very quickly to ascertain its position in the cable ; and, finallj', that with a steam- engine attached to the paying-out ma- chinery, should a fault be discovered on board whilst laying the cable, it was possible to recover it before it had reached the bottom of the ocean, and have it repaired at once. Still led on by that master-spirit of the enterprise, Mr. Field, its friends formed themselves into a new company, with a large amount of capital, and the summer of 1866 was fixed upon for another effort, the Great Eastern to be employed for the pur- 632 LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH pose. By the time (says Dr. H. M. Field, the admirable historian of the enterprise,) the big ship had her cargo and stores on board, she was well laden. Of the cable alone there were two thousand four hun- dred miles, coiled in three immense tanks, as the year before. Of this, seven hun- dred and forty-eight miles were a part of the cable of the last expedition. The tanks alone, with the water in them, weighed over a thousand tons ; and the cable which they held, four thousand tons more ; besides which she had to carry eight thousand five hundred tons of coal and five hundred tons of telegraph stores — in all some fourteen thousand tons, besides engines, rigging, etc., which made nearly as much more. So enormous was this burden, that it was thought prudent not to take on board all her coal before she left the Medway, especially as the channel was winding and shallow. It was therefore arranged that about a third of her coal should be taken in at Bere- haven, a port on the south-west coast of Ireland. The time for her departure, was the last day of June ; and in four or five days she had passed down the Irish coast, and was quietly anchored in the harbor at Berehaven, where she was soon joined by the other vessels of the squadrou. The Terrible, which had accompanied the Great Eastern on the former expedition, was still there to represent the majesty of England. The William Corry, a vessel of two thou- sand tons, bore the ponderous shore end, which was to be laid out thirty miles from the Irish coast, while the Albany and the Medway were ships chartered by the com- panj'. While the Great Eastern remained at Berehaven, to take in her final stores of coal, the William Corry proceeded around the coast to Valentia, to l.ay the shore end. She arrived off the harbor, July 7th, and immediately prepared for her heavy task. This shore end was of tre- mendous size, weighing over eight tons to the mile. The cable was to be brought off on a bridge of boats, reaching from the ship to the foot of the cliff. All the fish- ermen's boats were gathered from along the shore, while the British war-ship Kacoon, which was guarding that part of the coast, sent up her boats to help, so that, as they all mustered in line, there were forty of them, making a long pon- toon-bridge ; and Irish boatmen with eager looks and strong hands were standing along the line to grasp the massive chain. All went well, and by one o'clock the cable was landed, and its end brought up the cliff to the station. The signals were found to be perfect, and the William Corry then slowly drew off to sea, unlimbering her stiff shore end, till she had cast over the whole thirty miles. At three o'clock, the next morning, she telegraphed through the cable that her work was done, and she had buoyed the end in water a hundred fathoms deep. The joy of the inhabitants on witness- ing this scene was earnest and deep-seated, rather than demonstrative, after the les- son taught by last year's experience. The excitement was below, instead of above the surface. Nothing could prevent the scene being intensely dramatic, but the prevailing tone of the drama was serious, instead of boisterous and triumphant. Speech-making, hurrahing, public congrat- ulations, and vaunts of confidence, were, as it seemed, avoided as if on purpose. The old crones (says an English paper) in tattered garments who cowered together, dudheen in mouth, their gaudy colored shawls tightly drawn over head and under the chin — the barefooted boys and girls, who by long practice walked over sharp and jagged rocks, which cut up boots and shoes, with perfect impunity — the men at work uncovering the trench, and winding in single file up and down the hazardous path cut by the cablemen in the otherwise inaccessible rock — the patches of bright color furnished by the red petticoats and cloaks — the ragged garments, only kept from falling to pieces bj' bits of string and tape — the good old parish priest, who exer- cises mild !nd gentle spiritual sway over the loving subjects of whom the ever-pop- ular Knight of Kerry is the temporal head, looking on benignly from his car — LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 633 the bright eyes, supple figures, and inno- cent faces of tlie peasant lasses, and the earnestly hopeful expression of all — made up a picture not easily described. On the thirteenth of July, the fleet was ready to sail on its great errand, and lay the cable in the heart of the wide and deep ocean. Previously to the departure, however, a devotional meeting was held, participated in by the company, the offi- cers and hands, at which the enterprise was solemnly commended to the favor of God. In a short time after leaving the shores of Ireland, the Medway reached the buoy to which the shore-end was attached, and immediately the operation of splicing that end with the main coil on board the Great Eastern was performed. At about three o'clock, p. m., the tele- graph fleet was on its way to Newfound- land, in the following order : The Terri- ble ahead of the Great Eastern on the starboard bow, the Medway on the port, and the Albany on the starboard quarter. The weather was thick and foggy, with heavv rains. Signals were sent through the cable on board of the Great Eastern and to the telegraph house at Valentia, and the two thousand four hundred and forty nautical miles were found perfect in condition, and only waiting their final destination in the vast womb of the ocean. All went well until noon of July 18th, when the first real shock was given to the success that had hitherto attended them, and caused considerable alarm. A foul flake took place in the after-tank. The engine was immediately turned astern, and the paying of the cable stopped. All hands were soon on the decks, and there learned, to their dismay, that the running and paying out of the coil had caught three turns of the flake immediately under it, carried them into the eye of the coil, fouling the toy-out and hauling up one- half turns from the outside, and five turns of the eye of the under flakes. This was stopped, fortunately, before entering the paying-out machines ; stoppers of hemp with chains were also put on near the wheel astern, and orders were given by Mr. Canning, to stand by to let go the buoy. This was not very cheering to hear ; but, though the calm and collected man inspired those around him with con- fidence that his skill and experience would e.xtricate the cable from the danger in which it was placed, no fishing line was ever entangled more than the rope when thrust up in apparently hopeless danger from the eye of the cable to the deck. There were at least five thousand feet of rope lying in this state, and in the midst of thick rain and increasing wind, the cable crew set to work to disentangle it. The Dolphin was there, too, patiently following the lights as they showed them- selves, the crew now passing them forward and now aft, until at last the character of the tangle was seen, and soon it became apparent that ere long the cable would be saved and uninjured down to the tank. Captain Anderson was at the taffrail, anx- iously watching the strain on the rope (they could scarcely make it out, the night was so dark), endeavoring to keep it up and down, going on raising with paddle and screw. In view of the rise of the great ship, and the enormous mass she presented to the wind, the difficulty of keeping her stern, under the circum- stances, over the cable, can be appreci- ated. The port paddle-wheel was discon- nected, but afterward there was a shift of wind, and the vessel came-to the wrong way. Welcome voices were now heard passing the word aft from the tank, that the bights were cleared, and to pay out. Then the huge stoppers were quietly opened, and at 2 : 05 A. J'., to the joy of all, the cable was once more being discharged. They veered it away in the tank to clear the screw, and' the paddle-engines were slowed so as to reduce the speed of the ship to four and a half knots. During all this critical time, there was entire absence of noise and confusion. Everything was silently done, and the cable men and crew worked with heart}' good will. On the morning of Friday, at eight o'clock, July 27th, the ship arrived at 634 LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TKLEGRAPH. Heart's Content, the American terminus, the distance run being one thousand six hundred and sixty-nine miles, and the length of cable paid out, one thousand eight hundred and four miles. The aver- age speed of the ship from the time the splice was made until they came in sight of land was a little less than five nautical miles per hour, and the cable was paid out at an average of five and one-half miles per hour. The total slack was less than twelve per cent. The fleet was in con- stant communication with Valentia since the splice was made, July 13th, and news was daily received from Europe, which was posted up outside of the tele- graph office, for the information of all on board of the Great Eastern, and was sig- naled to the other ships. It would be difficult to describe the feelings with which Mr. Field, who, with his associates on board, had watched the progress of the undertaking with intense solicitude, day and night, — penned the following an- nouncement to his friends in New York, and which was received throughout the whole land with unbounded delight : — " Heart's Content, Juhj 27. We arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. AIL well. Thank God, the cable is laid, and is in perfect ivorking order. Cyeus "W. Field." Strangely and happily enough, too, the first European tidings flashed across the cable to the western hemisphere, was, that a treaty of peace had just been signed between Austria and Prussia, and that tlie black war cloud which had gathered over all Europe was fast fleeing away ; — a fit celebration of the grandest of human enterprises, the successful establishment of telegraphic communication between the Old world and the New. Congratulatory dispatches were immedi- ately forwarded, by Mr. Field, to the pres- ident of the United States, the secretary of state, and to the honorary directors of the Atlantic Telegraph Company. The queen of England sent her salutations to the president, as follows : '■' The Queen congratulates the President on the suc- cessful completion of an undertaking which she hopes may serve as an additional bond of union between the United States and England." To this, the president re- sponded by saying: "The President of the United States acknowledges with pro- found gratification the receipt of Her Majesty's dispatch, and cordially recipro- cates the hope that the cable which now unites the eastern and western hemi- sjjheres may serve to strengthen and to perpetuate peace and amity between the Government of England and the Eepublic of the United States." Heart's Content, the American terminus of the cable, is a little fishing hamlet, hitherto unknown, but destined to an en- during reputation hereafter, as one of the most interesting geographical points in the history of the age. The bay on which it is situated is a very safe and capacious one, and on this account was selected. Among the complimentary messages sent to Mr. Field, on the consummation of his great and magnificent scheme, was one which came to hand on Monday, July 30th, from M. de Lesseps, the renowned projector of the Suez Canal. It was dated in Alexandria, Egypt, the same day, at half-past one o'clock, p. M., and reached Newfoundland at half-past ten, A. M. By looking at the globe, one can see over what a space that message flew. Remark- ing upon the wonderful fact, a New York paper graphically said that it came from the farthest East, from the land of the Pha- raohs and Ptolemies ; it jjassed along the shores of Africa, and under the Mediter- ranean, more than a thousand miles, to Malta ; thence it leaped to the continent, and shot across Italy, and over the Alps, and then through France, under the Chan- nel, to London ; then across England and Ireland, till from the cliffs of Valentia it struck straight into the Atlantic, darting down the submarine mountain which lies off the coast, and over all the hills and valleys of the waterj' plain, resting not till it touched the shore of the New World. Thus, in its morning's flight, it had passed LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPF. fi35 ABRIVAL, OF THE GKEAT EASTERN AT HEART'S CONTENT, WITH THE ATLANTIC CABLE. over one-fourth of the earth's surface, and so far outstripped the sun in his course, that, by the dial, it reached its destination three hours before it was sent ! Curiously enough, too, in this latter con- nection, it was found, when considering the propriety of not sending messages on Sunday, that, supposing no delay in trans- mission, Sunday in the United States is Saturday in Calcutta, and thus the adop- tion of such a rule would be — working east- ward and westward — to exclude Saturdaj-, Sunday, and Monday, from telegraph operations. As illustrating the moral uses, too, sub- served by land and ocean telegraph lines connecting different countries and conti- nents, the following case, given in a New York journal — by no means an extreme case in this present day of increased tele- graphic facilities — will be found in point : A knavish Chinaman in California having contracted the barbarian vice of swindling, has been cheating sundry merchants in San Francisco out of eighteen thousand dollars, and, getting on board the Pacific Mail steamship, fled to the Central Flowery Kingdom. In this way he hoped to put between himself and those whom he had robbed, first, some ten thousand miles of ocean. But, a telegram from San Fran- cisco bears the tidings of his crime to New York. New York sends it by cable across the Atlantic to London, London through France and under the Mediterranean to Alexandria, Alexandria by the Red Sea and Persian Gulf to Bombay, Bombay to Ceylon, and Ceylon by the Peninsula and Oriental steamers to China. So that, when Hong-Kee trips lightly down the ship's gangway at Hong Kong or Shang- hai, dreaming of much opium and many almond-eyed daughters of the Sun in the Land of Flowers, his placid soul will be disconcerted by the tap of a bamboo on his shoulder, and a voice of doom will murmur an ungentle summons in his ear. Poor Hong-Kee ! The bad morals of the Christians have corrupted him, and in the steam-engine of the Christians has he put his trust. But the literal ' chain-light- ninsr' cf those same Christians is after him, to outstrip their steam-engine, and to teach him in sorrow and in shame how much better he might have done. Not less curious, in a scientific point of view, is the following incident, as related by Mr. Field, at the magnificent banquet given in his honor, in New York, on the triumphant completion of what has justly been pronouncea the grandest of human enterprises. " The other day," said Mr. Field, in his speech on this occasion, " Mr. Lattimer Clark telegraphed from Ireland, across the ocean and back again, u-ith a batteri/ formed in a lady's thimble ! And now Mr. Collett writes me from Heart's Content : " I have just sent my compli- 636 LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. ments to Doctor Gould, of Cambridge, who is at Valentia, with a battery com- posed of a gun cap, with a strip of zinc, excited by a drop of water, the simple bulk of a tear / ' " Too great credit can never be awarded to Mr. Field, for his persevering devotion to this enterprise, through ten years of disheartening failure. In the early stages of the enterprise, few encouraged him in his expectations, though all personallj' wished him well. On preparing, there- fore, for one of his trips across the Atlan- tic, in connection with the business, one of his friends said to him, " When shall we siee you again ? " " Not until I have laid the cable ! " was Mr. Field's reply. So, too, on presenting the subject to Lord Clarendon. The latter showed great interest and made many inquiries, but was rather startled at the mag- nitude of the proposed scheme, as well as at the confident tone of the projec- tors, and pleasantly asked the lion-hearted man — " But, suppose you don't succeed ? Sup- pose j'ou make the attempt and fail — your cable is lost in the sea — then what will you do ? " " Charge it to profit and loss, and go to work to lay another," was Mr. Field's quick and characteristic response to his noble friend. On another occasion, w-hen dining at the residence of Mr. Adams, the Ameri- can ambassador, in London, he was seen for an instant to nod his head. John Bright, who sat next to him, turned to him with a smile, and said, " I am glad to see you sleep ; / didn't knoiv that you ever slept ! " — a most pertinent and deserved tribute to the man whose indomitable faith and energy was finally crowned with im- mortal success. i ^=n LXXVI. COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— 1869. Spikes of the Richest uold and a Hammer of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Rail.— The Blows of the Sledge Telegraphed to All the Great Cities.— The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the Farthest East to the Golden Gale —Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.— Seven Days Irom New York to San Francisco.— Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth.— " Manifest Des- tiny " of the United States.- A Pacific Highway Agitated for Years —Its National Importance and Necessity.— Charters and Government Aid at Last.— The " Union " and " Central " Companies.- Natural Difficulties to be Overcome— Feats of Engineering Involved.— Triumphs of Science in this Respect.— Mountains Tunneled, Rivers Bridged.— Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed.— Vastness and Progress of tlie Work —A Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams —First Train at the Top of the Sierras.- Pushing the Line to Completion.— Approach of the .'wo Grand Divisions.- Union at Promontory Point, Utah —Exultation Over the Victory.— Historic Scene in the Heart of America.— Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel.— Telegram to President Grant.— Cel- ebration in the Principal Cities.— Easy Journey Around tiie World. ■■The laal rail ii laid-tlie list Bpike dri7en-the Pacific Roiirond i. completMil"-OKr[ClAL Teleqbam feom Peobobtoet Poikt, OCTOBBE loth, 18BU MOtnJTAlN SCEJTE ON THE PACIFIC KAILBOAI*. ELIEVERS in the "manifest destiny" of the universal Yankee nation were fa- vored with one of the most conclusive and gratifying confirmations of their cherished theory, when that most stupendous work ever undertaken by man, the Construction ^ of the Pacilic Railway, was finally consum- mated by the laying of the last rail and the memorable ceremony performed by officials of clasping together the iron girdle about the loins of the nation ; — in the winding of which mighty coil across the continent, mountains were tunneled which made one's head giddy to gaze upon ; rivers were bridged which, since the primeval days of creation, had rolled in majestic solitude; gulfs, frightful and tumultuous, were spanned; frowning heights were climbed and leveled; and abyssmal depths were fathomed. And all this was accomplished in a period of time, and on a scale of mag- nitude, the recital of which is fairly calcu- lated to stagger credulity. Notwithstanding the necessity of sf.ch a line of communication had for years been 638 COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. repeatedly urged, it was not until 1859 Ihat a bill was carried through congress, authorizing the grand scheme. This hill, — according to the Chicago Times' exhaust- ive account of the history of the enter- prise, which is here abridged, — comprised no less than three great lines, namely, the northern, the southern, and the central. But the breaking out of the civil war checked the enterprise. The astonishing development, however, of the precious metals in Nevada and the travel and traf- fic that inevitably followed, embodied for the mines of Californians that imperious need of a cheaper and easier conveyance, into a plan of a continental railway, which had always been popular there. The assumed impracticability of cross- ing the Sierras did not discourage a few daring, far-sighted engineers, prominent among whom was Mr. T. P. Benjamin, the character of whose survej-s decided the state legislature to charter the Cen- tral Pacific railroad company, in 1862. In a short time, success crowned the ef- forts of the friends of the enterprise in congress ; and so, in July, 1862, the great continental railway from the Missouri to the Pacific was an assured undertaking. In 1865, forty miles were built ; in 1866, two hundred and sixty-five miles; in 1867, two hundred and forty-five miles; in 1868, four hundred and twenty-five miles; in 1869, one hundred and five miles. East of Salt Lake City, the eleva- tion of the road averages about seven thou- sand feet above the sea. Most of the coun- try is very rough, destitute of wood and water, and a large portion of the way is through an alkali desert. Tremendous jHow-storms in the mountains presented another great difficulty. The spirit of rivalry did its share in stimulating the activity of the Union Pacific company. The efforts of this com- pany had so far languished during the ear- lier history of their corporation, that little was done till after the close of the war. The Central Pacific, however, immediately commenced work, so that, in Januarv, 1863, the first grading was done, — the occasion being signalized with great re- joicing as a general holidaj', — and, even so early as June, 1864, thirty-one miles of track had been laid to New Castle, nearly one thousand feet above the sea at the foot of the Sierras. But, owing to finan- cial difficulties, it was not until September, 1866, that progress was made to Alta, sev- enty miles east of Sacramento, and nearly six thousand feet above the sea. In No- vember following, the track reached Cisco some six thousand feet above the sea, an average elevation of about one hundred feet per mile being overcome in twenty- three miles. Work on the Union Pacific did not commence till eighteen months after the Central had inaugurated their section of the enterprise. In the spring of 1867. when the snows had melted, the work was resumed by both companies, with great vigor, the race being kept up with an ardor that constantly gathered head. The Union was far ahead in respect to dis- tance, but they had to fight against con- tinually increasing difficulties, while the Central had already overcome the great ones of their undertaking in crossing the Sierras, and could look forward to an open and easy route. The first passenger train reached the top of the Sierras, November 30, 1867. By the time the western end of the route had reached the lower Truckee, one hundred and forty miles east of Sacramento, the Union had reached a point in the Black Hills, five hundred miles west of Omaha. At the opening of the summer of 1868, the two companies were nearly equally distant from Monument Point, at the head of Salt Lake, and the emulation be- tween the two gave rise to prodigious ef- forts. About twenty-five thousand men and six thousand teams were engaged along the route between the foot of the Sierras and Evans's pass. The competi- tion increased as they neared each other, and at last the struggle arose as to the point of junction. The Central company wished Ogden fixed as the point of junc- tion, and the Union urged Monument COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 639 Point ; thu matter was at last settled by a decision in favor of the former. The dan- gers to which the laborers were subjected, and the imperious necessity of vigilant protection of the track and material of the road, were great and unceasing, owing to the inveterate hostility of the Indians. From Fort Kearney west, up the Platte river, to the foot of the Black Hills, the road was subject to a continual succession of fierce attacks. Several battalions of United States troops were scattered along the line, and found full employment in adequately guarding the object of their vigilance. That the completion of such a vast en- terprise, unparalleled in magnitude and grandeur, should be hailed as one of the most memorable achievements in the ma- terial progress of the country, was cer- tainly to be expected. Nor is it to be wondered at that the original pick and shovel employed in commencing such a work, should still be looked upon, by every patriot, with historic interest. They are carefully preserved, and bear the following inscriptions : " Pick that struck the first lloiv on the Union Pacific railroad, Omaha, Decem- ber 2, 1863. Pickers: Thomas Acheson, Wilson F. Williams, George Francis Train, Peter A. Day." " Shovel used by George Saunders, to move the first earth in the Union Pacific railroad, Omaha, Neb., December 3, 1863. Shcvelers : Alvin Saunders, governor of Nebraska; B. E. B. Kennedy, mayor of Omaha ; I. M. Palmer, mayor of Council Bluffs ; Augustus Kountze, director of U. P. R. R." The following table of distances on the two lines will show the magnitude of this great channel of continental communica- tion : From New York to Chicago, 911 miles ; from Chicago to Omaha, Neb., 491 miles. From Omaha, by the Union Pacific line, to Ogden, 1,030, and a branch of forty miles to Salt Lake City. From Ogden, by the Central Pacific line, 748 miles. From Sacramento to San Fran- cisco, 120 miles. Thus, the grand di.i- tance, by the iron track, from Omaha to San Francisco, is 1,898 miles ; from Chi- cago to San Francisco, 2,389; from New York to San Francisco, 3,377 miles, In less than one-half or one-third of the time predicted at the outset of the enter- prise, the road was completed, — a great feat, indeed, when it is considered that the workmen operated at such a distance from their base of supplies, and that the material? for construction and subsistence had to be transported under such a vari- ety of difficulties. Thus, the transporta- tion of one hundred and ten thousand tons of iron rails, one million fish-plates, two million bolts, fifteen million spikes, three and a half million cross-ties, and millions of feet of timber not estimated, for the construction of roads, culverts and bridges, made one of the minor items of the ac- count. The moving of engines and mar chinery for stocking manufactories, of materials for foundries and buildings of every kind, not to speak of the food for an army of thousands of workmen, all of which belong to the single account of transportation, may also give an impres- sion of the activitj' and expense required in bringing such a road to completion in so short a time. Of course the irregularities of surface characterizing a distance so immense, and particularly that portion of the line run- ning among the Sierra Nevada mountains, necessitated tunneling, cutting, and tres- tle-bridging, on s, large scale. The well- known Bloomer Cut, sixty-three feet deep and eight hundred feet long, is through cemented gravel and sand, of the consist- ency of solid rock, and only to be moved by blasting. The trestle-bridging con- stituted one of the most important features in the construction of the road, and the work, on completion, was pronounced oi the most durable description. Among the most famous of these structures may be mentioned the trestle and truss bridge, Clipper ravine, one hundred feet high; the Long ravine, Howe truss bridge and trestle, one hundred and fifteen feet high ; ".nd the trestle at Secrettown, one thou- 040 COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC EAILROAD. sand feet long, and fifty to ninety feet high. The highest engineering skill was demanded, from first to last, and the tri- umphs of science, in this respect, were complete. The total mileage of the roads built un- der the direct authority and by the aid of the national government, was two thou- sand four hundred miles. The govern- ment subsidy in aid of these works, amounted to about $64,000,000, of six per cent, currency bonds, the companies being also authorized to issue an equal amount of bonds. Both companies had also a land grant from congress, in alternate sections, equal to twelve thousand eight hundred acres per mile. Ninety million dollars was the cost of the Union Pacific railroad, up to 1869 ; that of the Central Pacific, seventj'-five million. This enormous sum, especially in its relation to the government indebt- edness, alarmed some timid economists. But a sufficient answer to their arguments was, that millions upon millions of acres of government lands, hitherto Ij'ing idle, would come into the market, and very speedily appear as productive farms tilled by the hand of industry' ; that towns, vil- lages, cities, manufacturing, mining, and all the appliances and evidences of mate- rial progress, would at once take a start, the wealth of the East be poured into the West, and emigration westward populate territories and turn them into states as if by magic. B3' means of this new and wonderful highway, the distance from New York to San Francisco would be traversed bj' passengers in six or seven days, instead of three weeks or more via Panama. From San Francisco to Japan is nineteen days, or twenty-five from New York, and some thirty-six from London, a speed exceeding that of the British mails to Yokohama, via Suez, by upwards of twenty days. And thus, San Francisco, on the Pacific, the travel and commerce of the nations of Western Europe with the hundreds of millions of people of Eastern Asia, and the great island of Australia, would pass over the railway, — the laud that built it thereby reaping the benefit of being the world's highway. On the tenth of May, 1869, the grand his- toric event took place at Promontory Point, Utah, of uniting the two great divisions of the trans-continental railway. Early in the morning, says the Chicago Tribune, Governor Stanford and party from the Pa- cific coast were on the ground ; and at half- past eight, an engine with a palace and two passenger cars arrived from the east bring- ing Vice-President Durant and directors Duff and Dillon, of the Union Pacific rail- road, with other distinguished visitors, including several Mormon apostles. Both parties being in readiness, the ties were thrown down on the open space of about one hundred feet, and the employes of the two companies approached with the rails to fill the gap. Mr. Stenbridge, sub- contractor, who had been in charge of the building of the Central Pacific from the laying of the first rail on the bank of the Sacramento, commanding a party of Chi- nese track-layers, advanced from the west with assistant - general superintendent Corning. The Chinamen, conscious that the strangers from the far east were watch- ing their movements with curious eyes, wielded the pick, shovel and sledge, with consummate dexteritj' ; but their faces wore an appearance of unconcern and indiffer- ence wonderful if real, and not the less so if affected. White laborers from the east did their best work, but with more indicar tion of a desire to produce an effect, and at eleven o'clock the European and Asiatic private soldiers of civilization stood face to face in the heart of America, each proudly conscious that the work was well done, and each exultant over so noble a victory. Engine No. 119 from the Atlan- tic, and Jupiter, No. 60, from the Pacific, each decorated with flags and evergreens for the occasion, then approached within a hundred feet from opposite directions, and saluted with exultant screams. Superin- tendent Vandenburgh now attached the telegraph wires to the last rail, so that each blow of the sledge should be recorded COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 641 on every connecting telegrnph instrument between San Fram-isco and PortlanJ, Me. It was also arranged so that corresponding blows should be struck on the bell in the city hall at San Francisco, and the last one fire a cannon in the batteries at Fort Point. General Safford, in behalf of the territor}' of Arizona, presented a spike composed of iron, gold and silver, as an offering by Arizona, saying : be struck. Every head was uncovered in reverential silence, while Rev. Dr. Todd, of Pittsfield, Mass., offered up a brief and deeply impressive invocation. The magnificent tie of laurel, on which was a commemorative plate of silver, was brought forward, put in place, and Doctor Harkness, in behalf of the state of Califor- nia, presented Governor Stanford the gold spike. President Stanford, of the Central Pacific railroad, responded, accepting the golden and silver tokens, predicting the day as not far distant when three tracks COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. "Ribbed with iron, clad in silver, and crowned with gold, Arizona presents her offering to the enterprise that has banded every continent and dictated a new ■path- way to commerce." The crowd fell back at the request of General Casement, and the artist for the Union Pacific railroad photographed the scene, with the locomotives confronting each other, and Chinese and Caucasian laborers confronting the work. It was BOW announced that the last blow was to 41 ■" ^-^ would be found necessary to accommodate the traffic which would seek transit across the continent, and closing with the happy summons — " Kow, geutlemen, toith your assistance, we ivill proceed to lay the last rail, the last tie, and drive the last spike." General Dodge, in behalf of the Union Pacific railroad, responded as follows : " Gentlemen, — The great Benton prophe- 642 COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. sied that some day a granite statue of Co- lumbus would be erected on the highest peak of the Rocky mountains pointing westward, denoting this as the great route across the continent. You have made that prophecy this day. Accept this as the way to India." Mr. Tuttle, from Nevada, presented a silver spike on behalf of the citizens of that state, with the fol- lowing remarks : " To the iron of the East and the gold of the West, Nevada adds her link of silver, to span the continent and wed the oceans." Thereupon, Super- intendent Coe, in behalf of the Pacific Union express, presented the silver ham- mer, or sledge, with which to drive the last spike. Governor Stanford and Vice-President Durant advanced, took in hand the sledge, and drove the spike, while the multitude stood silent. Mr. Miles, of Sacramento, who was chairman of the meeting, an- nounceil the great work done! The si- lence of the multitude was now broken, and a prolonged shout went forth, which, while it yet quivered on the gladdened air, was caught up by the willing lightning, and borne to the uttermost parts of the earth. Cheer followed cheer for the union of the Atlantic and Pacific, the two Pacific railroad companies and their ofiicers, the president of the United States, the Star Spangled Banner, the laborers, etc. A telegram announcing the grand consumma- tion was sent at once to President Grant, and one to the associated newspaper press immediately followed, worded thus : " The last rail is laid! The last spike driven ! The Pacific Railroad is com- pleted! The point of junction is 1,086 miles west of the Missouri river, and 690 miles east of Sacramento City." There was a great deal of interest and excitement in Washington, and a large crowd assembled at the telegraph office, as soon as it was known that the driving of the last spike would be announced by the wires. Mr. Tinker, the manager, fixed a magnetic ball in a conspicuous place, where all present could witness the per- formance, and connected the same with the main lines, notifying the various offices throughout the country, that he was ready. New Orleans, New York and Boston, instantly answered that they were ready. Soon afterward, many of the offi- ces in different parts of the country be- gan to make all sorts of inquiries of the office at Omaha, from which point the cir- cuit was to be started. That office replied : " To everybody : Keep quiet. When the last spike is driven at Promontory Point, we will say "Done." Don't break the circuit, but watch for the signals of the blows of the hammer." After some little delay, the instruments were all adjusted, and 2.27, in the after- noon, Promontory Point .said to the peo- ple congregated in the various telegraph offices — " Almost ready. Hats off ; prayer is being offered." A silence for the prayer ensued. At 2.40 the bell tapped again. and the office at the Point said — " We have got done praying. The spike is about to be presented." Chicago replied — " We understand. All are ready in the East." Promontory Point — "All ready now. The spike will soon be driven. The signal will be three dots for the com- mencement of the blows." For a moment the instrument was silent, and then the hammer of the mag- net tapped the bell, one, two, tliree — the signal. Another pause of a few seconds, and the lightning came flashing eastward, vibrating two thousand four hundred miles, between the junction of the two roads and Washington, and the blows of the ham- mer upon the spike were delivered in- stantly, in telegraphic accents, on the bell in Washington. At 2.47, in the after- noon, Promontory Point gave the signal, "Done!" — the announcement that the continent was spanned with iron. The time of the event in San Francisco was 11.45, in the forenoon. A telegraph wire had been attached to a fifteen-inch gun, and as the first stroke on the last spike was telegraphed from Promontory Point, the gun was fired by electricity, and by the same agent all the fire-bells in the city were rung. COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC KAILKOAD. 64i The news of the completion of the road created, of course, great enthusiasm in all the cities of California. In San Francisco, the event was celebrated in a manner long to be remembered. The day was ushered in by a salute of one hundred guns, and congratulatory messages were transmitted to the directors of the Central and Union roads by the "California Pioneers." All the Federal forts in the harbor fired sa- lutes, the bells being rung and the steam whistles blown at the same time. Busi- ness was suspended, nearly every citizen exhibiting a hearty interest in the demon- strations. The procession was the largest and most imposing ever witnessed in San Francisco. In addition to the state mili- tia, all the available United States troops participated in the pageant, while the civic societies turned out with full ranks. The shipping was dressed in fine style — both the city and harbor, indeed, present- ing a magnificent sight. During the day, the principal buildings were festooned ■with the banners of every nation, and the streets were thronged with an excited and joyous people. At night, the whole city was brilliantly illuminated. At Sacramento, the event was observed with marked demonstrations. The city was crowded with a multitude of people from all parts of the state and Nevada, to participate in or witness the festivities, particularly the grand odd-fellows' proces- sion. The lines of travel to and from Sac- ramento were thrown open to the public free, and an immense number of people took advantage of this arrangement and flocked thither. The Central Pacific com- pany had thirty locomotives gaily decked, and as the signal gun was fired announc- ing the driving of the last spike of the road, the locomotives opened an overpow- ering chorus of whistles, all the bells and steam whistles of the city immediately joining in the deafening exhibition. In Chicago, the celebration was the most successful affair of the kind that ever took place in that city, and, probably, in the West, although it was almost en- tirely impromptu. The procession was unique in appearance and immense in length, being, at the lowest estimate, four miles, and representing all classes, associ- ations and trades. During the moving of the procession, Vice-President Colfax, who was visiting the city, received the follow- ing dispatch, dated at Promontorj' Point: "The rails were connected to-day. The prophecy of Benton is a fact. This is the way to India." A very interesting feat- ure in the procession was an array of mail- wagons with post-office employes, and sev- eral tons of mail matter in bags, labeled and marked as if bound for some of the large cities both on this side and beyond the Pacific ocean. Some of these were marked as follows: 'Victoria, Australia;' 'Washington, Oregon (G. D. P.-O.) ; ' 'Yeddo, Japan;' 'Pekin, China (G. D. P.-O.) ; ' ' Golden City, Colorado ; ' ' Den- ver, Colorado;' 'Santa Fe, New Mexico;' 'Hong Kong, China, via Chicago;' 'Yo- kohama, Japan.' In the evening, Vice- President Colfax, Lieut. Gov. Bross, and others, addressed a vast assemblj', speak- ing eloquently of the great era in Ameri- can history ushered in by the event of the day. The marine display was also very fine. On the announcement of the completion of the road in New York, the mayor or- dered a salute of one hundred guns, and himself saluted the mayor of San Fran- cisco with a dispatch conceived in the most jubilant spirit, — informing him that "our flags are now flying, our cannon are now booming, and in old Trinity a Te Deum imparts thankful harmonies to the busy hum about her church walls." The Chambers of Commerce of the two cities also exchanged congratulations, the New York chamber recognizing in the new highway an agent that would not only "develop the resources, extend the com- merce, increase the power, exalt the dig- nity and perpetuate the unity of our re- public, but in its broader relations, as the segment of a world-embracing circle, di- rectly connecting the nations of Europe with those of Asia, would materially facili- I tate the enlightened and advancing civil- f)44 COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC EAILEOAD. ization of our age." The services in Trin- ity were conducted with great solemnity, in the presence of a crowded congregation. After prayer, and the reading of a portion of the Episcopal service, tlie organ pealed forth in its grandest fullness and majesty, and, as the assembly dispersed, the church chimes added to the joyousness of the oc- casion by ringing out " Old Hundred," the " Ascension Carol," and the national airs. In Philadelphia, the authorities im- provised a celebration so suddenly, that the ringing of the bells on Independence H.ill, and at the various fire stations, was mistaken for a general alarm of fire, till the news was announced. The sudden flocking of the people to the state-house resembled that which followed the recep- tion of the news of Lee's surrender to Grant. In many other towns and cities throughout the imion, the event was cele- brated with great spirit. Even as far east as Springfield, Mass., the jubilee sjjirit was carried out. The entire force of work- men of Wason's car manufactory in that city formed a procession, headed by a band and accompanied by a battery, and marched from the shops of the company through the principal streets, each man bearing some tool or implement of his trade. Banners bearing ' Our cars unite the Atlan- tic and Pacific,' ' Four hundred car builders celebrate the opening of the Pacific Rail- road,' ' For San Francisco, connecting with ferry to China,' etc., were conspicuous. Returning to the scenes at Omaha, that interesting and important point on this trans-continental highway, the day was there observed by such an outpouring of the people as had never before been equaled. The morning trains from tlie west brought the fire companies and the masonic fraternity from Fremont, and large delegations from towns and settle- ments as far west as North Platte. Be- fore noon, the streets were filled with a multitude anxiously awaiting the signal from Capitol hill, where a park of artillery was stationed in the neighborhood of the observatory, to enable it to fire a salute the moment the telegraphic signals an- nounced that the last spike had been driven. A grand procession was one of tlie marked features of the day ; and, at about half-past one, tlie booming of one hundred guns, the ringing of bells, and the shrieking of the whistles of steamers and locomotives, proclaimed that Omaha and Sacramento were forever united by iron bands, and that now had been opened a highway from the gates of the east to the realms of sunset itself. Thus, in the consummation of this mightiest v/ork of utility ever undertaken by man, a journey around the world be- came a tour both easy and brief. The city of San Francisco could be reached from New York, in less than seven days, run- ning time. Arrived there, the finest ocean steamers in the world, each one of some four or five thousand tons, awaited the traveler, to take him, in twenty-one days, or less, to Yokohama, and thence, in six days more, to any part of China. From Hong Kong to Calcutta required some fourteen days by several lines of steamers touching at Singapore, Ceylon, Madras, or ports on the coast of Burmah. From Calcutta, a railroad runs far up into the north of India, on the borders of Cashmere and Affghanistan, and running through northern India, Benares, Alla- habad, etc. Another road intersects at Allahabad, more than six hundred miles above Calcutta, running some six hundred miles to Bombay, where it connects with the overland route to and from Egj'pt, in twelve or thirteen days by steamer and rail from Bombay to Cairo. From Cairo, almost any port in Europe on the Medi- terranean could be reached in from three to five days, and home again in twelve days more, making the actual traveling time around the world only seventy-eight days. More wonderful still, a trans-continental train, which left New York early on the morning of June 1st, 1876, reached San Francisco at twenty-five minutes past nine, June 4th, in the morning ; thus accom- plishing the journey in eighty-three hours and twenty minutes, without stoppages and without accident. LXXVII. THIRTY THOUSAND MILES OF RAILWAY IN THIRTY YEARS, AND EIGHTY THOUSAND IN HALF A CENTURY.— 1859. Curious Chronicles Eelatiug to the lutroductiou of Improved Means of Transit. — The Old and the New. — Development and Progress. — Numerous and Important Advantages. — Great Saving of Time and Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the United St.ates. — First American Railway with Steam as the Locomotive Power. — Sm.all Beginnings : Great Results. — Amazing Growth and Expansion in all Directions. — Social and Business Clianges. — Inf.incy of Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advancemeut. — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of Capital Demonstrated. — Distant Sections and Interests Equalized. — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast Constructive Works Involved. — U. S. Enterprise not Behindhand. — " Breaking the Ground." — Less than 20 Miles in 1829. — Some 30,000 Miles in 1S59. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius Displayed. — " Improvements " by the Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for Iron. — Luxury on Wheels. — Palace and Sleeping Car.-;. — Tremendous Speed Attained — American and Foreign Lines. — Railways 16,000 Feet Above the Sea. *' Soon Bhalt thy power, unconquered Steam I afar Drag the swift barge and drive the rapid cor." Daewin.— (more than one hundred years ago.) ERHAPS no invention of tlie pres- ent centurj', — it lias been well re marked by the eminent Dr. Bake- well, — has produced such wide- spread social and businesschanges as that of steam locomotion on railways. Not only have places that were formerly more than a day's journey from each other been made accessible in a very few hours, but the cost of travel- ing has been so much reduced, that the expense has in a great degree long ceased to operate as a bar to communication by rail- way for business or pleasure, and the usual channels of trade have been most profitably abandoned or superseded, with the greatest benefit to every interest involved. As already remarked, in estimating the importance and advantage of railway travel- TR.WELEKS' DEPENDENCE IX FORMER TI.MES. G46 EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. jng, there must not be omitted its cheap- ness and comfort, compared with travel- ing by stage coach There are occasion- ally to be found, it is true, even at this late day, persons who look back with re- gret to the old coach ; and it is not to be denied that radwajs have taken away much of that peculiar romance of traveling, and much of the exhilarating pleasure that was various waj's concentrating the energies of a people, and thus enlarging materially their wealth, comforts and social inter- course. Of no inferior consideration, too, in re- lation to the grand invention of steam railway travel, are the many subsidiary works which have been created during its progress toward perfection, and which LuiOAloriVE experienced when passing through a beau- tiful country on the top of a well-horsed coach in fine weather. The many inci- dents and adventures that gave variety to the journey were, it is true, pleasant enough for a short distance ; but two days and a night on the top of a coach, exposed to cold and rain, or cramped up inside, with no room to stir the body or the legs, was accompanied with an amount of suf- ering which those who have experienced it would willingly exchange for a seat, even in a second or third-class railway car. In a business as well as a social point of view, also, railways have made a powerful mark, — tending, as they do, to equalize the value of land throughout immense regions, by bringing distant sources of supply nearer the points of demand ; giving ex- traordinary impetus to manufacturing in- dustry ; and connecting all parts of a country more closely together : — in these KOC KliT," lSL'9. have coTitributed so vastly to its .-uccesa. Thus, tunnels, of a size never before con- templated, have penetrated for miles through hard rocks, or through shifting clays and sands; embankments and via- ducts liave been raised and erected, on a scale of magnitude surpassing any former similar works ; bridges of stupen- dous proportions and of wonderfully in- genious adaptation, have been constructed to meet special exigencies, in some cases carrying railways over straits of the sea, or other waters, through gigantic tubes — or, in other cases, across rivers, suspended from rods supported by curiously devised piers and girders ; &c., &c. That the history of railways shows what grand results may have their origin in small beginnings, is no less true than that the ])ower of capital is seen in this as in all other great material enterprises. In i evidence of the former truth, Dr. Lyell EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 647 mentions the interesting, though of course well-known, fact, that, when coal was first conveyed in tlie neighborhood of New- castle-on-Tyne, from the pit to the sliip- ping place, the pack horse, carrying a burden of three hundred weight, was the only mode of transport employed ; as soon as roads suitable for wheeled carriages were formed, carts were introduced, and this first step in mechanical appliance to facilitate transport had the effect of in- creasing the load which the horse was enabled to carry, from three hundred to seventeen hundred weight. The next im- provement consisted in laying wooden bars or rails for the wheels of carts to run upon, and this was followed by the substitution of the four-wheeled wagon for the two- wheeleii cart ; by this further application of mechanical principles, the original the superb steel rails of later days Of the locomotive engine, which makes it possible to convey a load of hundreds of tons at a cost of fuel scarcely exceeding that of the provender which the original pack-horse consumed in conveying its load of three hundred pounds an equal distance, it may justly be called one of the crowning achievements of mechanica;! science. Thus, the railway system, like all other compre- hensive inventions, has risen to its present importance by a series of steps, — in fact, so gradual has been this progress, that the system finds itself committed, even at the present day, to a gauge fortuitously de- termined by the distance between the wheels of the carts for which wooden rails were originally laid down, though this is now being superseded by a narrower gauge, to a considerable extent. Nor is the in- ^^^'"^ -^~<-^ LO< OMOTIVK OF T<>DAV. horse load of three hundred weight was augmented to forty-two hundred. These were indeed important results, and they were not obtained without the shipwreck of many a fortune. The next step of progress in this direc- tion was the attachment of slips of iron to the wooden rails. Then came the iron tramway, — the upright flange of the bar acting, in this arrangement, as a guide to keep the wheel on the track. The next advance was an important one, and con- sisted in transferring the guiding flange from the rail to the wheel, an improve- ment which enabled cast iron edge rails to be used. Finally, in 1820, after the lapse of many years from the first employment of wooden bars, wrought iron rails, rolled in long lengths, and of suitable section, were made, and in time superseded all other forma of railway, coming finally to teresting fact to pass unnoticed, namely, — the promptness with which man's inven- tive faculty supplies whatever device the I circumstances of the moment may require. I No sooner is a road formed fit for wheeled I carriages to pass along, than the cart takes tlie place of the pack-saddle ; no sooner is the wooden railway provided, than the wagon is substituted for the cart ; no sooner is an iron railway formed, capable of carrying heavy loads, than the locomo- tive engine is ready to commence its wonderful career ; — and so on, ad indefi- nitum. The characteristic enterprise of Ameri- cans did not fail them in this era of trans- formation and advancement. The first railroad attempted in the United States was a crude and temporary affair in Bos- ton — a double-track arrangement for re- moving gravel from Beacon Hill, and so 648 EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY contrived tliat, while one train descended the hill with its load, the empty train would thereby be hauled up for loading. A more positive effort iu this line, and more really deserving the name of a rail- way — and consequently honored by his- torians with the term of priority — was that constructed in Quincy, Mass., for the purpose of transporting granite from the quarry at that place to the Neponset river, ailistance of about four miles; it was a single track road, with a width of five feet between the rails, the latter being of pine, covered with oak, and overlaid with thin plates of wrought iron ; and the passage from the quarry to the landing, of a car r.'irrying ten tons, with a single horse, was Among the early undertakings of this character, on an extensive and costly scale, was the Boston and Lowell railroad, con- structed in the most substantial manner of stone and iron, and which, on its com- pletion, was visited by strangers from all places, as one of the chief objects of at- traction in the metropolis of New Eng- land. The following extract from a Lowell newspaper of that day, giving an account of the ' breaking of the ground ' in that vil- lage (for village it then was,) for this enter- prise, possesses sufficient interest to entitle it to preservation : ' The excavation which is now about being made in a hill in this place for the bed of the contem- OBIGINAI. performed in an hour. This was com- pleted in 1827, and the affair created much interest. The first use of a locomotive in this coun- try was in 1829, and was used on the rail- road built by the Delaware and Hudson company. From this fairly dates, there- fore, American railway travel with steam as the locomotive power. So popular was this means of transit, however, that, in thirty years from the time of its small be- ginning, more than thirty thousand miles of the iron road traversed the country in different directions ; this number of miles increasing to some eighty thousand in 1879, with nearly fifteen thousand locomotives, and a capital of rising four and a half billions. STEAH OAK. plated railway, may be considered, next to the various manufacturing establishments, the most wonderful ' lion ' of the place. This hill is near the terminus of the rail- way, in the neighborhood of the brewery, but not in a populous part of the town. It consists of a ledge of rock, which is about three hundred yards in length, and the average depth of the excavation is about forty feet. It is thirty feet wide at the bottom, and sixty at the top, and the masses of stone which have already been riven from the ledge by blasting, seem to be immense. A contract was originally made with a person to effect a suflScient passage through this hill, for the sum of seventy- two thousand dollars. He commenced the undertaking, employed sixty workmen for EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 64y about four mouths — aud failed. Another j)erson then undertook to finish the worli for the same amount ; but after a few- months, he also abandoned the undertalc- ing. Those individuals are said to have both been acquainted with the nature of the business which they undertook, but they were deceived by the quality of the rock, which consists principally of gneiss and mica, through which, although much lighter and softer than limestone or granite, it was found much more difficult and expensive to effect a passage, than if it were composed of those more solid ma- the drill ' The difference of means and methods peculiar to that period, as com- pared with those employed at the present day, in undertakings of this description, will readily suggest itself to the reader. The constant aud rapid increase in the construction of railway lines constituted, thencefoith, a great feature for national progress, and the inventive genius of the country displayed in this direction soon became correspondingly active, — so much so, in fact, that many scores of thousands of mechanical improvements are now re- corded in the Patent Office at Washington. MODER.V KAILWAY CAB. terials. The drilling may not be so diffi- cult ; but the rocks, lying in horizontal strata, almost defy the power of gunpow- der, so that heavy blasts, which would shiver an immense mass of granite, are frequently found here to produce but little effect. In addition to tliis, the ledge is found to be full of springs of water which sometimes render it necessary for the workmen to expend much time, and exer- cise no inconsiderable ingenuity, in coun- teracting its effect." There are also found in the lower part of the ledge, huge masses of quartz, and a species of rock composed almost entirely of hornblende, which is, of course, almost impenetrable to Some of the principal lines constructed soon after, or nearly cotemporary with, the above named, were the Boston and Worcester, Boston and Providence, Hudson and Mo- hawk, Saratoga and Schenectady, Ithaca and Susquehanna, Ithaca and Catskill. Catskill and Canajoharie, New York and Erie, New York and Albany, Camden and Aniboy, Baltimore and Ohio, Lake Cham- plain and Ogdensburgh, — and so the list might be well-nigh indefinitely extended, coming down to those magnificent lines of a later day which sjian the wide continent, bringing the remotest sections of the East, the West, the North, and the Soutl into immediate proximity, and uniting,by bands 650 EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. of iron and steel, "our whole country, however bounded." It would certainly be a difficult task to desoiibe the ' luxury on wheels ' exhibited in the construction and equipment of the railway cara which now convey passengers on all the principal lines, — palace cars, drawing-room cars, etc., as they are truly called, and costing, in frequent instances, twenty thousand dollars each ; or the mag- nificent and powerful locomotives, built at an expense, in many cases, equal to that of a first-class city residence ; the superb and durable steel rails ; the continuous power-brakes ; steel and steel-tired car wheels f electric signals; the contrivances for lighting and warming; — nothing short of a whole volume would afford space ade- quate to any suitable description of these and a thousand kindred matters pertaining to the railway system of the present day. The highest speed of railway trains pos- sesses, in the popular rather than the scien- tific view, a peculiar interest, and some comparisons have been made, in this re- spect, between onr American and the British and other European roads. Among the latter, the 'Flying Dutchman' has been considered the fastest train — for a comparatively short distance — in the world; tliat is, it runs from London to Swindon, seventy-seven miles, in eighty-seven min- utes, being at the rate of fifty-three miles an hour, while Exeter, about one hundred and ninety-four miles, is reached in four and one-quarter hours, giving an average pace of forty-five and one-half miles per hour. Next to this train for speed is the run by the Great Northern Railway to Peterborough, when the average rate is fifty-one miles, while tlie two hundred and seventy-two miles to Newcastle is traveled in six hours and twenty minutes, or at forty-three miles an hour. The limited mails of the London and Northwestern, while running to Edinburgh northward, and Holyhead westward, have trains trav- eling the four hundred and one and two hundred and sixty-four miles respectively at a pace of forty miles an hour. The Midland conveys its passengers to Leices- ter, ninetj'-seven and a half miles, at a rate of forty-four and three-quarters miles per hour. The London and Brighton, by their fast trains, run to London by the sea in an hour and ten minutes, the rate being forty-three miles an hour. On the Conti- nent no such paces as the above are met with. The French express from Calais to Paris is known as the fastest French train, doing thirty-seven miles an hour on an average, while, from Paris to Marseilles, a distance of five hundred and thirty-seven miles, travelers are conveyed at the rate of thirty-four miles an hour. Swiss railways are slow, expresses only attaining a speed of twenty-two miles an hour. In Belgium, the highest speed is thirty-three miles an hour, and in Holland about the same. From Berlin to St. Petersburg, one thou- sand and twentj'-eight miles, is traversed in fortj'-six hours, the pace being twenty- two and a half miles an hour. In our own country, forty or fifty miles an hour m;iy be said to be the maximum rate attained — excepting on a few special occasions, — the average speed being much less, nor does the popular demand seem to favor an ex- cessive pace. Among the various requirements of the railway system at present, so that the de- fects now experienced in such traveling may be remedied, the following may be enumerated : First and foremost, the adop- tion of what is known as the ' block ' sys- tem, in its most rigorous form, should be made compulsory ; greater brake power should be introduced ; double couplings should be provided for all cars and trucks when traveling from one station to another, even if the use of single couplings, to save time, be allowed during shunting opera- tions ; foot-boards should be continuous, and made so as to overlap platforms ; lock- ing of car doors on both sides should be prohibited under all circumstances, even when a train is stationary, and, when it is in motion, both doors should in all cases be unlocked ; the consecutive hours of duty for signalmen should be limited to six, and the maximum for one day at such a post, even with an interlude, should be ten; EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY 651 and finally, a system of telegraphic cotn- iiuiiiication, whether automatic or worked by hand, at both ends, should be enforced between signal and signal-box. One of the most interesting, as well as most recent, railway achievements, and deserving of historical record, is the line across the main ridge of the Andes, be- tween Lima and Oroya. This remarkable engineering work comprises about one hundred and thirty miles of road, and is intended as a first step towards bringing the rich and fertile interior of the country east of the Andes into easy communication with the capital and the ports of the Pa- cific. Thfc crest of the Andes is traversed by means of a short tunnel, at an altitude of nearly sixteen thousand feet above the sea level, — the steep and irregular slope up to this point being ascended by a series of sharp curves and reversed tangents, and the deep ravines spanned by bridges, one of these being some two hundred and sixty- five feet high. It is the judgment of the best authori- ties in these matters, that, as there is no part of the world where railroads have been such an important agency in material development as has been the case in the United States, so it is a fact, also, that no- where else has there been greater progress in the art of railway construction or in the business of railway administration and management Of the one hundred and eighty-five thousand miles of railway in the world, which had been completed in the half century succeeding their intro- duction, nearly one-half belonged in the United States, — a preponderance which, having reference to territorial area, must be considered very great, but, as compared with the populations, is really enormous. In the very able report on tliis subject by Mr. W. A. Anderson, whose large ac- quaintance with European railways enabled him to form the most reliable conclusions, the opinion is expressed that, with vast regions urgently demanding the speedy construction of new roads as the line of civilization has moved across the continent, with the needs of the older settled portion of the country not by any means supplied, and with that impatience of delay and eagerness of enterprise which are charac- teristic of the American jieople, it is not surprising that there should be much that is crude and superficial in many of the railway works of such a country ; but, when the relative cost of construction, ihe wants of a comparatively new and partially developed country, and the nature of the means available for railway construction, are considered, the fact appears that Amer- ican railroads, in the condition of their permanent ways and of their rolling stock, in their sj-stem of administration and in their efficiency, compare quite favorably with those of any other country. In many respects they would not be so well suited to the countries and populations of Europe as are the modes of railroad construction and management now usually prevailing in those countries. Indeed, the character- istic social relations, and the wants of the people and needs of our country, are so dif- ferent from those of European nations, that it is difficult fairly to contrast the European railway systems with the Ameri- can, — each being marked by peculiarities of special adaptation to the respective countries. There are, however, some striking par- ticulars in which the practice of European railways, — their management of trains, their plans and arrangement of cars and coaches, &c., — varies from that pursued in America, but which, after all, involves only different yet about equally good methods for reaching the same results as are obtained in America by other and not always superior means. Their subdivision of passenger coaches in coupes or sectional compartments, each seating six, eight, or ten persons when full, and having no means of direct communication with each other or with the other cars of the train, is one of the features peculiar to foreign roads, and another which may be men- tioned is the retiring rooms provided at the various stations, instead of having any such conveniences upon ordinary pas- senger and express trains. Other features 652 EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. to be named in the foreign system is that of having guards upon passenger trains, who do not control the movements of the trains, their position being thus quite in« ferior to that of the American conductor, and the management of their trains b}' telegraphic signals from the principal sta- tions, as is the case upon some lines, and which is found to be such an effective safeguard. The elevated railway, for cities, is thus far peculiar to America; its extensive in- troduction, notwithstanding its acknowl- edged drawbacks, seems to be only a mat- ter of time, and that in the nenr future. the heads of pedestrians and on awnings, to the diffusion of dirt into upper windows, to the increased danger of life from runa- way horses and the breaking of vehicles against the iron columns, to tlie darkening of lower stories and shading of the streets so that the same are kept damp long iifter wet weather has ceased, and to numerous other accidents and annoyances inherent to such a system of traveling; but these inconveniences and risks appear to have fallen considerably short of the predictions, and at least are submitted to with that facility of adaptation to the inevitable, which is a characteristic trait of Americans. METlturoLITA.N ELKVATKl) That there is to be a widely extended introduction of elevated railroads, in the populous and crowded cities, there would seem little ground for doubting, notwith- standing the objections which were at first raised against such a mode of passenger transit. In the city of New York, for in- stance, it was declared that, for the privi- lege of such conve^'ance, the citizens must habituate themselves to trains thundering over tlieir heads, to thoroughfares blocked with great iron columns, to the liberal dis- tribution of ashes and oil and sparks upon KAILKOAIt. M-:W VIH{K. The capacities of inventors have re- ceived a new stimulus, by the needs of this kind of locomotion, and many and in- teresting are the improvements which have been brought forward already in this direc- tion, relating respectively to tracks, car.=, engines, etc. That the elevated railroad has a great future before it, in most of our great and crowded cities, would appear to be unquestionable; for, notwithstanding its acknowledged drawbacks, it is admitted to be a well nigh indispensable public coq- venience. Lxxvin. BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COM- MERCIAL METROPOLIS OF THE NORTH- WEST.— 1871. Most Destructive Conflagration in tlie History of Civilized Nations.— A Thirty Hours' Tornado of Fire in all Directions.— Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame.— Upwards of Two Thousand Acres, or Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed : Loss, .?200,000,000.— Ignoble Ori- gin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman. — Combustibles all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevail- ing.— Frightful Rapidity of the Flames.— Destruction of the Water-Works— Stores and Warehouses Swept Away.— Palaces and Hovels a Common Prey.— Engines Sent from Seven States.— The Mid- night Scene.— Terror Indescribable.— Flight for Life.— Burning of the Bridges.— Helplessness, Des- peration, Death —Churches, Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes —Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc.— Kxplosion of the Gas-Works.- Tombs and Graves Consumed— Most Ghastly Spectacle.— Nearly 100,000 Persons Homeless.- The Wail for Help.— A World's Sympathies Poured Forth. •• Blackened and bleeding, panting, prone On the charred fru^iiients of her shattered throne, ijea dhe who ato-jj, but yeaterday, alone.*"— Bbet HaeTE. SIR. OGDEX'S HO03E UNTOUCHED IS THE MIDST OF THE GREAT FIEE. ^^^^^^^^N Sunday and Monday, October eighth and ninth, 1871, there — ""^"^^feifel occurred in Chicago, the great commercial metropolis of the _ _^^. ^, __ If north-west, a fire unparalleled in the history of the world. "^S^- Z°0^ The fire originated in a small frame structure in the rear of ^ '^'- jJo. 137 DeKoven street, used as a cow-stable. It was dis- covered at about half-past nine o'clock in the evening, by a policeman, when it was very small, and who, hoping to extinguish it without sounding an alarm, set himself to 654 BURNING OF CHICAGO. work to do so, — a fatal miscalculation, as the result soon j)roved. A strong souili- westerly wind was blowing at the time ; no rain had fallen for several weeks previ- ous ; and conseqnently all combustible matter was prepared for ready ignition. It was alao a portion of the city occupied by the poorer classes, principally Bolic- mian emigrant families, and being in the vicinity of several planing mills, shingle mills, and factories, had collected a large quantity of shavings from these places, and stored them in the basements and yards of their premises for winter use. All the fire apparatus of the city was brought into requisition, and, considering the diflSculties to be encountered, the cour- age and energy of the firemen could not be surpassed. They had just passed through a severe fire twenty-four hours previous, and part of the companies had left the scene of the Saturday night fire but a few hours, when they were again called, exhausted with hard labor, to this fearful scene. The flames shot with frightful rapidity from house to house and from board-3'ard to board-yard, ail human means appearing utterly powerless to stay their progress. On they went, in a northerly direction, covering a space of two or three blocks in width, until the burnt district of the pre- vious night's fire was reached, and this served the purpose of preventing their farther spread on the west side of the river. Sweeping every thing in their course, up to the locality named, the flames leaped across the river, and vio- lently communicated with the buildings there. Quickly they traveled north, de- vouring everything as they went, until that section of the south division which embraced nearly all the grandest struct- ures and thoroughfares was reached, and there seemed to be no encouragement to farther efforts to save the city from its fiery doom. Unfortunately, one of the first public buildings reached by the fire was the water-works ; this cut off the water supply, rendering the fire depart- ment useless. The awful gale which prevailed filled the air with live coals, and hurled to an immense distance, in every direction, blaz- ing brands and boards, — a widespread besom of furious destruction. All of the leading banks of the city, several of the stone church edifices, costly and elegant in the extreme; the beautiful railroad depot of the Michigan Southern and the Eock Island railway companies, also that of the Illinois Central and the Michigan Central railroads; the court-house and the chamber of commerce ; the Sherman, Tre- mont, Briggs, Palmer, Bigelow, Metropol- itan, and several other hotels, as well as the gigantic Pacific, which was in process of construction ; all the great newspaper establishments; the Crosby opera-house, McVicker's theater, and every other prom- inent place of amusement; the post-office, telegraph offices, Farwtll hall, the mag- nificent Drake-Farwell block, the stately dry goods palaces of J. V. Farwell & Co., Field, Leiter & Co., scores of elegant resi- dences in Wabash and Michigan avenues, numbers of elevators in which were stored millions of bushels of grain; in fact, all that the hand of man had fashioned or reared was completely swept away, as the fire madly rushed to the north. With tremendous force, the mighty and uncontrollable element, rushing to the main channel of the river, near its en- trance into Lake Michigan, consumed the bridges, and attacked the north division with relentless fury. All dav, on Mon- day, and through the succeeding night, it waged its work of devastation, advancing, with wonderful speed, from block to block, and from street to street, over a vast sur- face, sparing scarcely anything. The destruction of palatial residences and mag- nificent churches continued, while stores and dwellings by the hundreds, together with the costly water-works, the north side gas-works. Rush medical college, the Chi- cago and North-western railway depot, sev- eral immense breweries, coal 3ards, lum- ber yards, and manufacturing establish- ments of various kinds, and in great numbers, yielded to the resistless enemy. BURNING OF CHICAGO. 655 By inidiiiglit, nearlj^ tlie entire popula- tion of the city had been aroused, and the streets, for an immense distance surround- ing the scene of the disaster, were thronged with excited, swaying humanity, and with all descriptions of vehicles, pressed into service for the hasty removal of household goods and personal effects ; loading and unloading, here, and there, and every- where, was going on in promiscuous con- fusion. Invalids and cripples were car- ried away on improvised ambulances; aged women and helpless infants were hastily borne to places of supposed safety ; people who were utterly overcome with excitement and fatigue were seen sleeping on lounges, trunks and tables, in the street ; and empty houses were forcibly broken open and taken possession of by homeless wanderers, made desperate by the awful surroundings. One of the most fearfully thrilling scenes of the great conflagration, as nar- rated, occurred in the eastern section of the north division. When it became ajs- parent that all hope of saving the city was lost, after the flames had pushed down to the main branch of the river, the citizens of the north side, who were over to see the main theater of the fire, thought it time to go over to their own division, and save what they could. Accordingly, they beat a rapid retreat toward the tunnel and bridges. The former of these thorough- fares was impassable at three o'clock. Clark street had not been opened for some time, and State street was in a blaze from one end to the other. Rush street bridge proved to be the only means of getting away from the south side, and over that bridge the affrighted fugitives poured in thousands. Their flight was not quicker than was the advance of the flames. The latter jumped the river with miraculous swiftness, and ran along the northern sec- tion like lightning. So rapid was the march of the fiery element, driven by the heavy gale, that the people were glad enough to escape unscathed. Everything was abandoned. Horses and wagons were used merely as a means of Hight. Few persons in the direct course of the fire thought about saving anything but their lives and those of their families, such were the speed, and power, and omnipresence of the destroj'er. Having reached Chicago avenue, the conflagration took an eastward turn, and cut off fiom flight northward all who remained in the unburned section ly- ing between Dearborn street and the lake. The inhabitants of that district flattered themselves that their homes might escape the general destruction. But the gale changed its course in a few minutes more toward the east, and the entire quarter of the city specified became a frightful pen, having a wall of fire on three sides and the fierce rolling lake on the other. And now a scene transpired, which, as described, was scarcely ever equaled. The houses were abandoned in all haste. Into wagons were thrown furniture, cloth- ing, and bedding. Mothers caught up their infants in their arras. Men dragged along the aged and helpless, and the en- tire horror-stricken multitude beat their course to the sands. It was a hegira never to be forgotten. Even the homes of the dead were sought for as food by the all-devouring element; for, after ravaging to the limits of the city, and with the wind dead against it, the fire caught the dried grasses, ran along the fences, and in a moment covered in a burning glory the Catholic cemetery and the grassy stretches of Lincoln park. The marbles over the graves cracked and baked, and fell in glowing embers on the hot turf. Flames shot up from the rest- ing places of the dead, and the living fugi- tives, screaming with terror, made, for a moment, one of the ghastliest spectacles ever beheld. The receiving-vault, solidly built, and shrouded by foliage, fell under the terrific flame, and the corpses dropped or burst from the cofiins, as the fire tore through the walls of the frightful charnel- house. On the fire obtaining strong and over- powering headway, the flames seemed to go in all directions ; in some places, like huge waves, dashing to and fro, leaping tioG BUENING OF CHICAGO. up and down, turning and twisting, and pouring, now and tiien, a vast column of smoke and blaze hundreds of feet into the air, like a solid, perpendicular shaft of molten metal. In other places, it would dart out long streaks or serpentine shapes, which swooped down over the blazing path into some of the yet unburnt buildings, which seemed pierced, and kindled instan- taneously. There were also billows of flame, that rolled along like water, utterly submerging everj'thing in their course. Here and there, when some lofty building became sheeted in flame, the walls would weaken and waver like india-rubber; they sometimes swayed almost across the street, and immediately fell with a direful crash ; a momentary darkness followed, and then fresh glares of light from a newly kindled fire. The kerosene-oil stores made an awful but sublime displaj', as the tower- ing flames rolled aloft, seeming to pene- trate the very heavens. The huge iron reservoir of the gas-works exploded with tremendous force and sound, demolishing the adjacent buildings, and the very earth seemed actually belching out fire. The walls of white marble, the buff limestone of Illinois, the red and olive sandstones of Ohio and Marquette, the speckled granite of Minnesota, and the blue Lockport limestone of New York, all aj)- peared to suffer about alike in the ravag- ing element. Everything the power of wind and flame could level met that doom ; everything it could lift was swept away. The furious fire consumed its own smoke, leaving but few traces of stain upon the bare standing walls. In a comparatively short space of time, aearly all the public buildings were either consumed or in flames, — hotels, theaters, churches, court-house, railway depots, banks, water-works, gas-works, and thou- sanils of dwellings, stores, warehouses, and manufactories, with all their vast and val- uable contents, were whelmed in one com- mon vortex of ruin. The fire engines were powerless. The streams of water appeared to dry up the moment they touched the flames. An attempt was made to blow up the buildings , but this availed little, the high wind carrying the flaming brands far across the space thus cleared away. To add to the horrors of the scene, the wooden pavements in some places took fire, driving the firemen from stations where their precious efforts might possibly have been available. But noth- ing could long resist the terrible heat of the flames, which seemed to strike right through the most solid walls. Buildings supposed to be absolutely fire-proof burned like tinder, and crumbled to pieces like charred paper. Engines and fire-appa- ratus had arrived from seven different States, and the working force was prodig- ious, but all this was of no avail. According to the most reliable estimate, the number of acres burned over in the West Division of the city, where the fire originated, was nearly two hundred, in- cluding sixteen acres which were laid bare by the fire of the previous evening. This district contained about five hundred build- ings, averaging four or five occupants each. These buildings were generally of the poorer class, and comprised a great many boarding-houses, saloons, and minor hotels, with a few factories, also several lumber and coal yards and planing mills, a grain elevator, and a depot. In the South Division, the burned area comprised some four hundred and sixty acres. With the exception of the Lind block, on the river bank, between Ran- dolph and Lake streets, it included all north of an irregular line running diago- nally from the intersection of Polk street with the river, to the corner of Congress street and Michigan avenue. This dis- trict, though comparatively small in ex- tent, was by far the most valuable in the city, — the very heart and head of Chicago as a commercial center. It contained the great majority of all those structures which were at once costly in themselves, and filled with the wealth of merchandise that made the city the great emporium of the North-west. All the wholesale stores of any considerable magnitude, all the daily and weekly newspaper offices, all the 658 BURNING OF CHICAGO. principal lianks, (lis leading hotels, manj- extensive factories, all the offices of insur- ance men, lawyers, produce brokers, etc., the custom-house, court-house, chamber of commerce, all the prominent public halls and places of amusement, many coal yards, the monster Central railroad depot, with its various buildings for the transaction of business of the Illinois Central, Michigan Central, and Chicago, Burlington and Quincy railroads, &c., &c. There were nearly thirty-seven hundred buildings de- stroyed in this division, including sixteen hundred stores, twenty-eight hotels, sixty manufacturing establishments, and the homes of about twenty-two thousand people. In the North Division, the flames swept nearly fifteen hundred acres, destroj'ing thirteen thousand three hundred buildings, the homes of nearly seventy-five thousand people. These structures included more than six hundred stores and one hundred manufacturing establishments, including jMcCormick's reaper factory, a sugar refin- erj', box mills, etc. The lake shore, from Chicago avenue north, was lined with breweries. The river banks were piled high with lumber and coal, three grain elevators stood near the fork of the river, and near them the Galena depot. Many hotels, and private storehouses for produce and other property, also existed in this neighborhood, and the wholesale meat markets on Kinzie street were a busy cen- ter of trade. North Clark, Wells, and North and Chicago avenues, were princi- pally occupied by retail stores. The total area burned over was two thousand one hundred and twenty-four acres, or almost three and one-third square miles. This area contained about seventy- three miles of streets, and seventeen thou- sand four hundred and fifty buildings, the homes of nearly one hundred thousand people. All this transpired in the brief space of thirty hours, and the aggregate loss was not far from $200,000,000. But saddest of all was the great loss of life, the precise extent of which will probably never be known. For a city thus suddenly and tragically overwhelmed m ruin, the sympathies of the whole civilized world were spontaneously poured forth, and, in response to the cry for help that went up from her borders, instant and abundant relief was sent from every part of the Union. The national govern- ment, at the instance of Lieut. Gen. Sher- idan, — whose activity in endeavoring to stay the progress of the conflagration, and, subsequently, in preserving order, was so conspicuous, — sent thousands of tents and army rations ; societies and private citi- zens sent money, clothing, and provis- ions ; railroad companies dispatched spe- cial trains laden with these gifts; and in every city and town, public meetings v, ere held, and money raised to aid the homeless and suffering. From Canada and Europe, too, came assurances of sympathy and proffers of assistance. The total value of the charities thus bestowed, in provisions, clothing, and monpy, amounted to millions of dollars, all of which was distributed with such promptness and wisdom that despair was forestalled, epidemic disease prevented, and hope kindled in the hearts of all. To narrate more than a few of the many instances of heroism, affection, tragedy and crime, incident to a disaster so wide- spread and awful, would be simply impossi- ble. Gangs of armed ruffians were every- where patrolling about, hunting for plunder, and breaking into safes with impunity, — remonstrance was met with a deadly blow, and few had the temerity to interfere. Heated with whiskey and excitement, they caused a complete reign of terror, and, though the mayor had issued a proclama- tion directing the closing of the saloons, no attention was paid to it, and the disor- derly element had its own sway. In Wabash and Michigan avenues, and, indeed, in all the places where the richer classes lived, the scenes enacted were un- paralleled. Women who had never known what a care was, and consequently were, as would be supposed, utterly incapable of bearing with courage such a calamity as the destruction of their homes, displayed BURNING OP CHICAGO. 65y instances of heroism and love worthy to be written of in story and song. Thus, a prominent lady of Wabash avenue had been deserted by her servants as soon as it became certain that the house was doomed ; they went off, taking with them whatever they could lay their hands on. She, her daughter, and her invalid hus- band, were alone in the house, and tlie flames were rapidly approaching. There was not a moment to spare, and the two women carried away in their arms the sick man, and brought him in safety be- yond the reach of the fire. The most pitiable sights were the sick children, half dead, Ij'ing crouched on the sidewalks, in many cases with barely any covering on them. A pathetic scene was noticed on the corner of La Salle and Eandolph streets, where two little girls were lying, terror-stricken, by the side of their dead sister, whose re- mains presented a harrowing spectacle. She had been too late to escape from under a falling building on Clark street, and had then been extricated and borne away to the corner by her almost perish- ing sisters. The preservation of Mr. Ogden's resi- dence, solitary and alone, in the very heart of the fire, was one of the most memorable incidents in the history of this great dis- aster. The happy result in this case was accounted for by the fact that the house, a large and comfortable frame structure, was in the middle of a block, all the other lots of which formed its elegant garden. On the streets upon its four sides were not many large buildings; while just as the f.re approached it from the south-west there was a slight lull iu the fury of the wind. This allowed the flames to shoot straighter into the air, and, before the fiery tempest had again bent them forward in search of further fuel, the structures upon which they were immediately feed- ing had been reduced to ashes, and a brealc made in the terrible wall of fire. The exertions of Mr. Ogden and his family, in covering the roof and walls of the house with carpets, quilts, and blankets, which were kept constantly wet with water from a cistern which happened to be in his place, also aided materially in the saving of their home, which was the only unharmed build- ing for miles ! One of the most notable events was the fate of the Tribune building, erected at great cost, and, as it was supposed, with undoubted fire-proof qualities. A wide space had been burned around it, and its safety was thought to be assured. A pa- trol of men swept off live coals and put out fires in the side walls, and another patrol watched the roofs. Up to four o'clock in the morning, the reporters had sent in detailed accounts of the fire. At five o'clock the forms were sent down. In ten minutes the two eight-cylinders in the press-room would have been throwing off the morning paper. Then the front basement was discovered to be on fire. The plug on the corner was tapped, but there was no water. The pressmen were driven from their presses. The attach(;3 of the establishment said good-bye to the finest newspaper office in the western country, and withdrew to a place of safety. In a very short time the building was enveloped in fire, and by ten o'clock the whole magnificent structure was a mass of blackened ruina. LXXIX. THE NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT.— 1873. Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between Producers and Consumers. — General Declaration of Principles and Aims. — A System of Universal Co-operation Proposed. — Results to be Realized by such Combinations. — Patrons of Husbandry and Sovereigns of Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 1867. — First Grange Founded in Washington, D. C. — Agricul- ture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Begin- ning. — Immense Growth in Five Years. — Activity in the West and South. — Social and Moral Aspects. — Plan of Business Action. — Partisan Prejudices Disavowed — No Political Tests Involved. — Opin- ions of Eminent Leaders Cited. — Views of Foreign Publicists. — Vital Point in the New System. — Commercial and Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Errors in Trade Cus- toms. — Individual vs. Associated Efforts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Inter- vention — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies. •* The ultimate object of this or^nnizatioTi is for mutual inBtructi.m nnd protection, to Hehten labor by diffusini- a knowledge of iti alma and purposes, expand ttie mind by tracinff the beautiful la'^a tlic ereit Creator has eelabliflbed in the utuveree, aud to enlarge our views of Creative wisdom and power."— Constitdtion of thk Naxioital Grange. ^ %,'3&""'^^'^.#' 1|»NE of the most active and vigorous co-operative bodies which have *'"'^' been organized, on a popular basis, within the last few years of the national century, and which now has its associate representation in almost all parts of the country, is what is known as the National Grangers — and, similarly. Patrons of Husbandry, and Sovereigns of Industry, — devoted, as these names imply, to the interests of agricultural labor, and kindred in- dustries. Their greatest strength is found in the western portion of the republic, though by no means confined to that section, affiliated branches of the order being found, in a more or less flourishing condition, m the southern, eastern, and Pacific regions, as well. Though dating the initiative of its existence no earlier than 1867, it was not, in fact, until 1872, that the order became sufficiently for- midable in numbers and influence to attract wide-spread attention. As illustrating, how- ever, the rapid growth which, in time, charac- terized this movement, it is stated that, in August, 1867, Messrs. 0. H. Kelley and William Saunders, at that time connected with the government departments in Wash- ington, D. C., and known as intelligent and far-seeing observers of public affairs in |y^S||||;2 .,IV NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 661 their relations to business and labor, — both gentlemen having been farmers, and long identified with that class, — conceived the idea of forming a society, having for its object their mutual instruction and pro- tection. In this view, they were joined, on con- sultation, by others, and a circular was drawn up, embracing the various points it was deemed desirable to embody, in pre- senting the plan of the Grange to the country. On the 4th of December, 1867, in Washington, D. C, the first Grange was organized, being officered as follows : William Saunders, master ; J. E. Thomp- son, lecturer; Rev. A. B. Grosh, chaplain; 0. H. Kelley, secretary. This became the National Grange. Soon after, a subordi- nate grange was established in that city, as a school of instruction, and to test the efficiency of the ritual. This grange num- bered about sixty members. In April, 1868, ilr. Kelley was appointed to the position of traveling agent. The first dis- pensation was issued for a grange at Har- risburg, Pa. ; the second at Fredonia, N. Y. ; the third at Columbus, 0. ; the next at Chicago, 111. In Minnesota, six granges were organized. Thus, the whole number during the first year was but ten : in 1869, thirty-nine dispensations were granted ; in 1870, thirty-eight ; in 1871, one hundred and twenty-five ; and during the next year, more than eight hundred dispensations for subordinate granges were issued from the headquarters at Washington, and the total increase during 1872 was rising eleven hundred. The declaration of princii^les put forth, authoritativelj', by the national grange, leaves no room for doubt as to the charac- ter and purposes avowed by this now pow- erful order. Starting with the proclama- tion of union by the strong and faithful tie of Agriculture, with a mutual resolve to labor for the good of the order, the country, and mankind, and indorsing the motto, 'In essentials, unity, in non-essen- tials liberty, in all things charity,' the following specific objects are set forth as those characterizing the order and by which the cause is to be advanced, namely : To develop a better and higher man- hood and womanhood among those consti- tuting the order ; to enhance the comforts and attractions of home, and strengthen the attachment to their pursuits ; to foster mutual understanding and co-operation ; to maintain inviolate the laws, and emu- late each other in hastening the good time coming ; to reduce expenses, both individ- ual and co-operate ; to buy less and pro- duce more, in order to make their farms self-sustaining; to diversify crops, and crop no more than can be cultivated ; to condense the weight of exports, selling less in the bushel and more on hoof and in fleece ; to systematize work, and calculate intelligently on probabilities ; to discon- tinue the credit system, the mortgage sys- tem, the fashion system, and every other system tending to prodigality and bank- ruptcy; to meet together, talk together, work together, buy and sell together, and in general act together for mutual protec- tion and advancement, as association may require; to avoid litigation as much as possible, by arbitration in the grange ; to constantly strive to secure entire harmony, good will, and vital brotherhood, and to make the Order perpetual ; to endeavor to suppress personal, local, sectional and na- tional prejudices, all unhealthy rivalry, and all selfish ambition. In regard to the principles and aims of this organization in respect to business, — concerning which much public discussion has taken place, — the statement is made by the order, authoritatively and explic- itly, that it aims to bring producers and consumers, farmers and manufacturers, into the most direct and friendly relation possible, and, in order to fulfill this, it is necessary that a surplus of middlemen be dispensed with, — not in any spirit of un- friendliness to them, but because such a class is not needed, their surplus and ex- actions diminishing the raiser's profits. Emphatically disavowing anj' intention to wage aggressive warfare against other interests, the grangers assert that all their 662 NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. acts and efforts, so far as business is con- cerned, are not only for tlie benefit of the producer and consumer, but also for all other interests that tend to bring these two parties into speedy and economical contact; hence, they hold that trunsportii- tion companies of every kind are necessary, that the interests of such companies are intimately connected with the welfare of the grange, harmonious action being mu- tually advantageous, — keeping in view one While declaring themselves as not the ene- mies of railroads, navigable and irrigating canals, nor of any corporations that will advance industrial welfare, nor yet of any laboring classes, the grangers are opposed to such spirit and management of any cor- poration, or enterprise, as tend to oppress the people and rob them of their just profit; and, while not enemies to capital, they oppose the tyranny of monopolies, and urge that the antagonism between capital SVMnOLS OF THE CO-OPERATIVE LABOU OnOANIZATIONS. of the primary bases of action upon wliich the order rests, namely, that individual happiness depends upon general prosperitj*. To this end, the order advocates for every state the increase, in every practica- ble way, of all facilities for transporting cheaply to the seaboard, or between home producers and consumers, all the produc- tions of the country, the fixed purpose of action being, in this respect, to open out the channels in nature's great arteries, that the life-blood of commerce may flow freely. and labor be removed by common consent, and by enlightened statesmanship worthy of the nineteenth century. Opposition is de- clared, also, to excessive salaries, high rates of interest, and exorbitant per cent, profits in trade, as greatl\' increasing the burdens of the people, and bearing no proper pro- piirtion to the profits of producers. The relations of the grange movement to political parties and questions have formed, almost from the first, the subject of universal criticism. It is emphatically NATIONAL GRANGE IMOVEMENT. 663 declared, however, as the oft-repeated truth taught in the orgauic law of the order, that the grange, national, state, or subordinate, is not a political or party organization; and yet, while no grange, if true to its obli- gations, can discuss political or religious questions, nor call political conventions or nominate candidates, nor ever discuss their merits in its meetings, the principles enun- ciated by the order are, it is claimed, such as underlie all true politics and all true statesmanship, and, if properly carried out, tending to purify the whole political atmos- phere of the country ; that, though seek- ing the greatest good to the greatest num- ber, no one by becoming a grange member gives up that inalienable right and duty which belong to every American citizen, to take a proper interest in the politics of h s country. On the contrary, the grange pronounces it to be the right and duty of every member to do all in his power legiti- mately to influence, for good, the action of any political party to which he belongs ; that it is his duty to do all he can, in his own party, to put down bribery, corrup- tion, and trickery, — to see that none but competent, faithful, and honest men, who will unflinchingly stand by the interests of the order are nominated for all positions of trust, — the governing principle in this re- spect to be, that the office should seek the man and not the man the office. The broad principle is acknowledged, that dif- ference of opinion is no crime, and that progress towards truth is made by differ- ences of opinion, while the fault lies in bit- terness of controversy. A proper equality, aquity and fairness, protection for the weak, restraint upon the strong, — in short, justly distributed burdens, and justly dis- tributed power, — the grange holds to be American ideas, the very essence of Amer- ican independence, to advocate the con- trary being unworthy the sons and daugh- ters of an American republic. Cherishing the belief, too, that sectionalism is and of right should be dead and buried with the past, the order declares its work to be for the present and future, and consequently recognizes in its agricultural brotherhood. and its associational purposes, no north, no south, no east, no west, and to every member is reserved the freeman's right to affiliate with anj' party that will best carry out his principles. The wonderful growth of the grange movement, especially throughout the west, is asserted by Mr. J. K. Hudson, an in- telligent and reliable authority, to have been without a parallel in the history of associational movements in this country; and this fact he attributes to the condition of the public mind which existed at the time of the founding of the movement, — the prevailing feeling of distrust towards the organized interests of every kind then existing, the common indignation against the injustice of the unfair distribution of profits, the prevailing discrimination against agricultural labor which was, year after year, constantly kept alive in the minds of the farmers of the west by the fast decreasing profits, buying goods sold at heavy profits, paying burdensome taxes brought upon them by unscrupulous rings which had squandered and stolen the pub- lic funds, while the result of the year's product and sale showed a loss to honest labor. Such a remarkable feature in American life as the rise and progress of this move- ment has not failed to attract attention in foreign lands, and particularly in England. Thus, at the Social Science Congress of Great Britain, assembled in 1875, the Earl of Roseberry, president of the association, after speaking of the various ' Unions ' to be found in the United States, such as the Sons of Toil, the Brethren of Labor, etc., characterized as incomparably above these, "the gigantic association of Patrons of Husbandry, commonly called the Grange, a great agricultural, co-operative, inde- pendent union. Its progress has been amazing. Its first grange, or lodge, was formed in the last month of 1867 ; there are at this moment 20,500, with 1,311,226 members, and at the end of the year it is certain that they will have thirty thousand, with two million members. The order is practically identified with the agricultural 664 NATIONAL GR^VNGE MOVEMENT. NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 665 population of twenty-six states, and with two-thirds of the farmers in ten others. In Missouri alone there are said to be 2,150 granges; they are making their way in Canada. Pennsj'lvania began the year with six lodges, and at this moment she has eight hundred." In regard to the cause of this prodigious increase, the earl thinks it easily accounted for, in view of the fact that, as alleged, the membership adds not less than fifty per cent, to the income of the order; and their enterprise and importance are furtjier made manifest by the fact, as stated, that the California grangers have their own fleet, and ship their corn direct to Liverpool, by which they saved two million dollars, in freights, in a single year, — their vessels bringing, as return cargoes, tea, sugar, coffee, silk, and other commodities, which are retailed to members at cost price, and a system is being organized by which their ships re- turn with loads of every foreign article which the members may need, thus mak- ing them an independent mercantile na- tion. In a similar strain, it is remarked by Mr. Leavitt, an ardent advocate of the order, that, although the fact be a disa- greeable one to some classes of non-pro- ducers, it is none the less undeniable that the rugged health of the movement arises from its direct bearing upon the pockets of its members, — the chief advantage be- ing the wholesale buying and selling which is done through the machinery of the order, differing, of course, in different states ; thus, in the west, a large part of the gain is from the wholesale disposal of grain, and its handling through grange elevators, while, in the south, planters have saved large sums by using the grange agents in disposing of their cotton. This last named consideration appears to be a vital point in the principles and aims of the grangers, and is urged very strongly in the writings of those who are the acknowledged spokesmen of the order. According to the argument of Mr. Aiken, a leading member at the south, the philos- ophy of the order is based upon the idea of affording mutual benefit to the producer and consumer by bringing them together. This position he enforces by stating the disadvantage the farmer labors under, by the system of trade at present carried on. To dispose of his crop as he pleases, says Mr. Aiken, is an enjoyable privilege, and, when he exchange* his products for the cash in hand he experiences a satisfaction not suggested by the receipt of bills of sale made at a distance ; those who buy from the farmer in a home market, however, are most generally speculators, or ' middle- men ' of the genuine stamp ; they buy simply to sell at a profit, and if they, by their better judgment and astuteness, can realize a handsome profit upon their in- vestment, they should not be condemned as tradesmen. If A buys B's crop, and nets fifty per cent, upon the purchase, he was no more to blame than B was for sell- ing to him ; both transactions were legiti- mate, but the result would show there was something erroneous in this method of dealing — the error was that farmer B did not properly comprehend the ' tricks of trade,' he had not studied the difference between wholesale and retail, between lo- cal and through freights, between individ- ual and combined efforts, between isola- tion and co-operation. The purchase of a single article, the shipment of a single crop, the efforts of a single individual, are all alike in their results, and of minor importance to tradesmen ; but where the purchases are made by wholesale, crops are grouped together for shipment, and the entire transaction submitted to a single disbursing agent, the commission on sales is diminished, the cost of transportation is reduced, and the aggregated profits be- come a handsome amount. Just so the ' middleman ' acts ; he buys individuallj', but groups his purchases and ships col- lectively, — is his own disbursing agent, and pockets the results of his profitable labors. It is exactly in this capacity that the grange proposes to act for the farmer. Similar in its spirit and principles of fraternity and co-operation is the organiza- tion, so increasingly' prosperous, known as the Sovereigns of Industry. As defined 6CG NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. by Mr. Alger, a prominent exponent of the society's aims, its members maintain that the true desideratum is to raise the quality and quantity of every sort of use- ful production to the maximum, and to reduce the cost both of creation and distri- bution to the minimum ; and, with this end in view, holding that men should be producers of good in some form, and that their sum of goods will be perfected by equitable exchanges, they have already begun the systematic organization of a method of bringing all kinds of producers and consumers into direct contact, tor their common gain and to the universal advantage, — the system being intended to prevent the waste of labor, and to put an end to the exaction of profit without any correspondent creation of value or use, and to swallow up the bitter rivalries an^ ani- mosities of labor and capital and trade in an inclusive harmonizing of them all. In the further declaration of tJbie purD0se.«i o^^ the order, upon which its action as above indicated is based, it is urged that the master principle of a true civilization must be the direct application of labor to the production of the goods of life. In utter opposition, however, to this, is the applica- tion of artifice to obtain money from those who possess it, in order that the obtainer may command the goods of life without producing them. The only real remedy, — says the declaration of this order, — is the overthrow of the existing monopoly and gambling concentrated in the present system of money, and the assignment of its just prerogatives to productive labor; an end must be put to all those forms of speculation which simply transfer money from hand to hand without any use or equivalent, and an end must be put also to the enormous profits exacted by tlie dis- tributors of goods who create no value but get rich out oi the earnings of productive Irbo.-. LXXX. TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF FREE POPULAR EDUCATION.— 1874. An Experiment in Behalf of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Country Prerions to such Efforts. — Early Scenes and Custunis. — I'ulilic Law Involved and Applied. — Impulse Given to the Work. — Prog- ress and ]{esults. — America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World. — Female Education. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern Idea. — Xo National System of Edu- cation. — Undertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of Wise Legislation. — State Vieingwith State. — School-houses in " ye olden time." — The East and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion. — Some Strange Contrasts. — Architectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appli- ances. — Congressional Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington. — Grand Aim and Scope. — Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher Institu- tions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then and Now. —Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S.— Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils. "No nation can eipeclto prosper it the educatioD of the people b9 neglected."— Gbobob Washihoto*. THE present year ii'^y he said to complete the period and exliibit thp r«- sulN of liundred years of free popular education, as established ^ aud tustuied by the law of the land. — the fact being, in this matter, that, •Itougli no couiprehen'-ive system of national education, under national l.uv, exists in the United States at the present time, the whole interest being within State or local juris- diction, the legislative assemblies of the colonies, particularly those of ^Massachusetts and Connecti- c ut, gave eiuly attention to the subject, at least in lespect to its more immediate claims and necessi- ties. It i- a decidedly modern idea, that the State ;tt large, and each man and woman in particular, is responsible for the proper education of every child. Those conspicuous figures in history, Alfred and Charlemagne, seem to have had a glimmering of that idea, but the times were too dark, too stern for them. During the whole of the middle Ages, little more is to be seen than priestly schools, chiefly in- tended for the education of the clergy, but opened in Schools for the nation at large, and supported by the nation at large, were not dreamed of. As late, even, as the seventeenth century, the state of the lower and middle classes, so far as education was concerned, was quite discouraging. There were church sciiools, town schools, private schools, scat- rUE bCUuOb-UuU.SE AS IT WAS. certain places for the laity also 668 TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. tered about here and there. — a few good, some indifferent, most of them poor ; but as to any efficient machinery that should reach every locality, and benefit every class, this was reserved to advancing gen- erations, — and magnificent indeed has been the realization. As already intimated, the sources of education were opened up at an early pe- riod in the settlement of the country, and, in spite of all difficulties that presented themselves, the public feeling was that the best should be done that the times would permit. It may be said, however, that not until 1644 — just two hundred the laws provided for the schoolmaster and the school, each township of fifty fam- ilies being bound to maintain a teacher of reading and writing, while each of a hun- dred families was called upon to set up a grammar school. According to the phra- seology of the legislative enactment by Massachusetts — " It is therefore ordered y' every towne- ship in this jurisdiction after y' Lord hath increased y"" to y* number of 50 houshold- ers shall then forthwith appoint one within the towne to teach all such children as shall resort to him to write and reade, whose wages shall be paid either by y' V ALL - .^LLI ■, 1. IN lT-1. years ago — did this public feeling assume an effectively organized form, and, in a short time, laws were enacted which so shaped matters as to insure permanency and progress. Thus, in Massachusetts, FlUST HAUVAUD COLLEGE. parents or masters of such children, or by y° inhabitants in general] by way of sup- ply, as y° maior part of those j'' order y° prudentials of y' town shall appoint, pro- vided those y' send their children be not TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 669 oppressed by paying much more y" tliey can have y" taught for in other townes." The example thus set was generally imitated in the various New England set- tlements, Connecticut being, in fact, in the very van, or at least contemporaneous with the most alert and earnest in the good cause. Connecticut, too, laid the of late years, by the organization of teach- ers' associations, teachers' institutes, etc. Penns3'lvania made early provision for public schools, namely, in the latter part of the seventeenth century, but it was not until 1834 that a thorough and compre- hensive plan of popular education was put in operation by legislative ordinance. yoRTH-" i.Mi-KN r>'i\ i:i:sirv. foundations at an early period, of an am- ple school fund, by setting apart for that purpose, in 1795, the income of the sale of lands in Ohio which were the property of the state, — reaching a value, in some fifty years, of more than two million dol- lars. Rhode Island established a system of free schools by legislation in 1800. The common school system of Maine is identical with that of Massachusetts, the two states having been one until 1820. New Hampshire and Vermont were not behindhand in prescribing methods and providing means of general education. In the state of New York, a school fund, now amounting to millions of dollars, was commenced to be raised in 1805, from the sale of some half a million acres of state lands, and the present system of free edu- cation was founded in 1812. New Jer- sey's school system has greatly improved, Maryland was much later in the field, pro- posing schools long before she established them. The southern colonies were, for a considerable period, lacking in activity in behalf of education, but great improve- ments have taken place, and especially is this true of late years,— a result in no small degree attributable to the generous fund contributed for this purpose by Mr. George Peabody, and so ably administered by Dr. Sears. South Carolina was amongst the earliest to organize public schools, namely, in the fore part of the eighteenth century, but these, like the schools of almost all the country, were of a very limited design. In Kentucky and Vir- ginia, as also in Mississippi, advance steps have beeu taken, within a comparatively recent period, in this direction. In all the western states, in addition to Ohio already mentioned, liberal provision haa 670 TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDrCATIOK been made for a first class system of com- mon schools, with all needed auxiliaries. It is about equally true of the different sections of the country in early times, that the system of instruction was extremely scant, and the school-house accommoda- tions of the most impoverished character, Hi compared with the present day. The objectionable, as the standard of education was correspondingly moderate. At the west, in its earliest days, things could scarcely have been much worse ; indeed, many of those born and reared in that section, in its formation period, had no education at all, nor did they generally feel much concern on the subject, — and, KORMAL SCHOOL, KEW VOUK ; FOB THE TKAIMM; ol i l,.l L lltr.S. school-house of "y" olden time" is de- scribed as, in fact, scarcely more than a hut or cabin — a small, low building, barn- like in shape and appearance, made in some cases of logs, and usually of stock equally crude or rough, frequently without clapboards or even shingles, and lighted by perhaps two or more four-pane win- dows, — a narrow door of rough boards at one end ; within, completely unfinished ; some low benches without backs, and a chair or stool for the ' master,' constituting the furniture. It was also a general fact in respect to those times, that, though the teacher might be decidedly a gentleman of old school perfection in his manners, and very popular perhaps as a man, his scholastic attainments were quite inconsiderable, — a point then not likely to render him very among those who did pretend to afford their children a knowledge of letters, the difficulties to contend with were numerous, not the least of which was the lack of competent teachers. A frequent custom in vogue, in sparsely inhabited neighbor- hoods, was, for some one of the farmers best qualified for the task, to spend a few weeks or months of the most leisure sea- son of the year, in teaching the children of the vicinity, whose parents might choose to send them, at a small expense, say ten or twelve dimes a quarter, payable in work or provisions. In this way, some of them succeeded in obtaining such an education as was thought to answer all needed purposes for the masses. Girls learned to spell and read imperfectly, and the art of penmanship was a rare attain- ment among the native daughters of the TWO HUNDRED YEAKS VF EDUCATION. 671 west, of that day, except in tlie larger towns, and a few favored spots in the older settlements. The education of a boy was then considered sufficient, if he could spell, read, write, and had ' ciphered to the rule of three' ; and if, by reason of any superior privilege, there was added to these a knowledge of grammar and geography, he was considered exception- ally advanced. The following were the principal items in the bill of expense for the entire course of studies: one Child's book, one Spelling book, one Reader, one New Testament, one quire of foolscap paper, one Arithmetic, one slate, and the tuition fees of a few quarters. The pupil gathered hi.s pencils from the brook, and plucked his quills from the wing of a ra- ven, or a wild goose, killed by the father's rifle. Compare all this with the architectural splendor of our modern school-houses, that iire to be found dotting the hills and val- leys of forty commonwealths, the cost of these structures varying all the way from live thousand to one hundred thousand dollars, finished with almost palatial luxu- riousness of beauty and convenience, and furnished with every possible appurtenance and appliance which ingenuity, so prolific in this direction, has been able to devise. Among the most important features in this unproved system of construction and ap- jiaratus, may be mentioned the loftiness and amplitude of the apartments, and that full and free ventilation so necessary for the health and comfort of the pupils, to- gether with an abundance of light, so that there is no straining of the vision. Of school-house furniture and apparatus, this country' is distinguished for a variety and perfection unexcelled, even if equalled, by any other nation, — including, of course, desks, seats, and benches, promotive of comfort, convenience, and neatness ; col- ored counters, strung on horizontal wires, in upright frames ; black-boards, of wood or mineral, some having movable slides, on which letters and figures are arranged in different orders; blocks, demonstrating the various geometrical figures ; maps in al- most endless style and variety ; atlases, globes, gymnastic contrivances; models, for representative teaching; geological, mineralogical, and botanical collections; instruments for instruction in music; — these, with hundreds of different text- books in every department or specialty, from the primary to the classical, with the letter-press made artistically attractive by the most beautiful pictorial ornamentation, fill up the foreground of this wonderful contrast of the present with the past, and the details of this comparison might here be almost indefinitely extended, did space permit. Foreigners, even the most judicious ob- servers, from European nations of the highest advancement in matters of educa- tion, are stated, by Prof. Hoyt, to be of one opinion in regard to the intelligent zeal of the American people in educational affairs, and the readiness with which they voluntarily tax themselves, that the bless ings of intellectual culture may be free to all ; the great liberality of the government of the United States in freely giving of the public domain for the support of schools for the young, of universities, and of technical schools for instruction and training in the applications of science to the practical arts ; the unparalleled mu- nificence of private gifts and bequests for the founding of great schools, general, technical, and professional ; the superior- ity of our public school buildings in the cities and villages, and of American school furniture ; the great superiority of our text-books, especially those for use in the primary and grammar schools ; and, finally, the extraordinary extent to which our newspaper and periodical publications, lecture courses, and other like instrumen- talities, supplement the work of the schools by a general diffusion of knowledge among all classes of the people It is not saying too much, perhaps, that the liberal grants of public lands made in behalf of free education, have proved, in many of the states, the chief means of prosperity to the cause. The establish- ment, also, of a government Bureau of 572 TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATIOK Education, at Washington, is likely to ef- iect the greatest results for good. Though clothed with no positive authority or con- trol, it aims to encourage the growth, in the public mind, of the following princi- ples or features of a national school sys- tem, namely' : — The authority and duty of the state legislature to establish, aid, support, and supervise schools of every grade, and all institutions and agencies of education, sci- ence, and the arts ; security against dimi- nution or diversion of educational funds and benefactions ; the certainty of a min- imum rate of taxation, sufficient every year to secure the elementary instruction of all children within the state wlio shall ponderance, sympathy with the wants ot different sections and occupations, and independence of local or special influence; a system of inspection, administered by the state board, intelligent, professional, frequent, and independent of local or in- stitutional control, with the widest and fullest publicity of results ; admission to all higher institutions aided by the state, only on fitness to enter and profit bj' the same, ascertained by open competitive examination ; a retiring fund, made up of an annual allowance by the state, and an equal payment by those who register to secure its benefits, conditioned on pro- longed service in the business of teaching; and an obligation on parents and guar- \ll:^Y IN VALK CULLEf.K V,\:"l M'S. apply, by teachers professionally trained, and in schools legally inspected and ap- proved ; the distribution of all state ap- propriations derived from taxation or funds, on such conditions and in such modes as will secure local taxation or individual contributions for the same purpose, a lively municipal or public interest in the expend- iture of both sums, the constant co-opera- tion of parents at home in realizing the work of the school, and the regular at- tendance of pupils ; a state board of edu- cation, having supervision of all educa- tional institutions incorporated or aided by the state, and constituted in such way as to secure literary, scientific, and pro- fessional attainment and experience, free- dom from denominational or party pre- dians not to allow children to grow tip in barbarism, ignorance and vagrancy, — and the exercise of the elective franchise, or of any public ofiicer, to be conditioned on the ability of the apiiHcant to read under- standingly the Constitution and laws. Of free public education for females, it may be said that the standard is now in every respect as high and the opportunitiea as complete and ample, as for the other sex, and that this fact relates to all the grades or graduated courses of instruction, from the primary and grammar schools up to the highest collegiate and university institutions. Normal schools, too, for the professional training of teachers, so as to leave nothing wanting in respect to capac- ity and adaptation for Ihis purpose, have TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 673 "teen established, under legislative auspices, in a large number of tbe states, and the principles and methods characterizing these important adjuncts to the cause cover the widest range. Besides these training schools, which annually send forth hundreds of the most accomplished gradu- ates, of both sexes, colleges exclusively' for females are to be found in different parts of the land, conducted on a scale and with a degree of success equal to the most re- nowned of those for males only. Collegiate institutions designed for the joint educa- tion of the two sexes constitute another feature of the advanced American system. The fact seems almost incredible, that, though there were but twenty-five collep;es times and the present — any considerable pictorial views of the superb buildings, now so numerous, which have been erected to meet the wants of these institutions. Harvard, Yale, and Columbia (or King's) colleges are the most ancient and cele- brated in America, and may be considered the mother, of all. From the smallest beginnings, their prosperity and enlarge- ment have continued until the present day. Harvard was founded in 1636, the intention of its originators and benefac- tors being the prejjaration of young men for the ministry and as teachers. Its de- partments — academic, theology, law, medi- cine, science, etc., — are so complete as to fairly represent the highest order of clas- VIEW IN H.\RVA;tt! (OLLF';! in the United States in the year 1800, the number had increased nearlj' fifteen times during the three-fourths of a century suc- ceeding, these being ni.anned by a profes- sorial corps of nearly four thousand, and the number of students falling but little short of fifty-seven thousand, — a remarka- ble fact, indeed, and of apjjropriate men- tion in connection with the statement that, at the same period, the number of pupils enrolled in the free public schools was some eight millions. The number of colleges and universities being thus among the hundreds, renders quite impossible any attempt to present — except in a few instances, for the purpose of showing the contrast between former sical learning on this continent. Yale college was founded in 1700, and its ad- vantages and reputation have always been unexcelled. The same may be said of Co- lumbia, Brown, Princeton, Hamilton, La- fayette, &c , &c. Columbia college was founded in 1754 ; the university of North Carolina dates back to 1789 ; that of South Carolina to 1801 ; the Ohio university to 1804; and the university of Virginia, in the establishment of which Thomas Jeffer- son was so prominent and influential, was organized in 1819. The efforts put forth at the west, in this direction, during the last half century in especial, have been simply amazing — only commensurate, however, with the magnifi- 674 TV/0 HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. cent scale upon which all enterprises in that vast, active, and prosperous region are planned, and which thus so truly reflect the intelligence, wisdom, moral and politi- cal genius, and wealth, of that great peo- ple. Nor has the activity in this splendid tield of educational achievement been con- fined to any particulai i-ace, party, or de- nomination, the various Christian bodies of almost every name, in fact, being repre- sented — Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Congregationalist, Roman Catholic, Chris- tian, Uiiiversalist, Unitarian, Episcopalian, Lu lieran, &c., &c. The larger number of these institutions are not only of comparatively recent origin, but have reached a surprising degree or condition of prosperity, and in not a few instances is this due to the princely endow- ments made by individuals. Kentucky University will forever be associated with the name of Bowman, Cornell with its munificent founder, and so of many others, not alone at the west, but in other sections of the country as well. In Indiana, Mich- igan, Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missis- sippi, Iowa, Ohio, Minnesota, Kansas, California, — in fact, throughout the whole vast area of country which scarcely had name or knowledge when the war for inde- pendence was being waged by the thirteen colonies, — are found seats of learning from which the four great profes.-^ions are annu- ally recruited, to say nothing of the inde- pendent fields of literature, science and art, in some leading specialty of which, independent of the standard professions, so many find their life's occupation and achievements. In the opinion of some of the wisest educators of the present day, — an opinion also expressed by Prof. Hoyt, in one of his invaluable papers on the conduct of universities, — the question is one of great itnportance, whether the cause of the higher culture and the interests of educa- tion generally would not be better pro- moted by raising the standards of admis- sion and graduation quite above the usual low level ; thus putting all truly prepara- tory work upon the high schools, acade- mies, and colleges, where it properly belongs, and employing the whole instruc- tional force of the university in meeting the demand for instruction in the higher departments of learning. There would seem to be no doubt, that, in a very large sense, this question lies at the foundation of the future of American university edu- cation — its character — its results. LXXXL CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL IN THE UNITED STATES.— 1875. The Venerable Archbishop McCIosky, of New York, Selected by the Roman Pontiff, for this Great Office.— He becomes a Prince in tlie Church.— The Highest Ecclesiastical Appointment in the Catholic Hierarchy.— Reasons given for this Step.— Solemn Investiture, in the Cathedral, by Clerical Dignitaries from All Parts of the Country.— An Unparalleled Scene.- Illustrious Nature of this Office.— Special Envoy sent from Rome.— Announcing the Event to the Archbishop.— Time of Public Recognition Assigned.— A Mighty Stream of llumauity.— Decorations of the Church.- Procession of Priests.— Incensing the Altars.— Sacred Vessels and Vestments.— Insignia Peculiar to this Rank.— The Scarlet Cap.— Profoundly Impressive Service.- Unprecedented on this Continent.— Imposing the Berretta.— Intoning and Chanting.— Official Letter from the Pope.— Use of the Latin Language.— Inspiring Strains of Music— Incidents Attending the Ceremonial.— Pontifical Benediction by the Cardinal.- Retirement of the Celebrants. — Dispersion of the Vast Throng. " rt ir«a the intent and purpose of the holy father to give honor to our whole eountry! louire honor end adow hi> deep reaped Md eileer, forour|rie«t.od ixlorious repubho. of which the Catholic population form ao essential a patt, and who arcao loyally deroled to her il,.tilu- Uona."— Cabdihal McCluskby's Addbess. 1 rilE GBiilAl CAiUIiUIi.iL, S. Y. T may not be inappropriate, perhaps, to state, first, that a cardinal is an ecclesiastical prince in the Roman Catholic church, — an official of the most illustrious characer, there- fore, in that hierarchy, — second, in fact, only to the pope himself, in point of rank, — and, among his very highest pre- rogatives, is that of having a voice and vote in the conclave of cardinals at the election of a pope, who is taken from their number. The limit is seventy, and these also consti- tute the sacred college, and compose the pope's council. The distinguishing dress of a cardi- nal is a red sontaine or cassock, a rochet, a short purple mantle, and a red hat. As usual, in such a case, a special envoy was sent from Rome, to bear to the eminent ap- ]iointee the papal briefs. Count Marefoschi, of the pope's household, was deputed for this purpose, and by him the official announcement was duly made to the venerable prelate, and various insignia of his new rank presented to him. One special article of dress, however, pertaining to the cardinalate, — namely, the cappello — has to be received directly from the 676 CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL. hands of the pope himself ; the article thus named is the flat-topped, wide-brimmed hat, from which depend two large tassels, and which is worn on the most exalted occa- sions. In handing to the cardinal the papal letter and the special insignia — a scarlet skull cap, — the envoy stated that the ob- jects had in view by the holy father in this step, were, first, to recognize and reward in from all quarters to witness the solemn and impressive pageant — the first of its kind since the settlement of our country. At the gate of entrance, the scene was one long to be remembered by the vast multitude — old men and women, young men and maidens — who there sought, with almost mortal struggle, admission to the portals of the sacred edifice. In the decorations of the cathedral, the ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEV, THE FIRST AMEKR'AN CAHDINAL. the personal merits and distinguished ser- vices to the Church of the archbishop himself ; second, to testify his regard for and pay a just tribute to the piet3' and zeal of the Catholics of America; and third, to acknowledge, in an especial man- ner, bis appreciation of all that the Cath- olics of the diocese of New York had accomplished for religion. The 27th of April was the time assigned for the public ceremonial of consecration, and a mighty stream of humanity poured choicest taste was exercised. The sanctu- ary was festooned with scarlet cloth orna- mented with gold lace and fringe, while over the cross, at the top of the altar, was arranged, in gas jets, 'Te Deum Lauda- mus,' and the floral decorations on the altar itself were profuse and elegant in the extreme. On either side of the tab- ernacle were floral columns of choice ex- otics, fully three feet in length and a foot in diameter, composed of roses, camellias and calla lilies, surmounted by a red cross COXSECEATIOX OF THE FIRST CAEDINAL. 677 of caruation pinks, while other floral de- signs of every description were strewn about in graceful profusion. The gallery, which had been set apart for the sole use of the choir, was hung with crimson cloth fringed with gilt, and caught up with heavy gold tassels ; in the centre was looped the papal banner, while on either side hung the stars and stripes. At the appointed hour, the pope's legate, supported by his secretary and the master of ceremonies, came from the sacrist}', bearing the berretta and the papal briefs, and deposited the treasures at the left of the cardinal's throne, the berretta, in this case, being of the color peculiar to the cardinalship. In a few moments came the procession of priests, in their priestly cas- socks and short surplices, and, shortly after, the dignitaries came forth from the same sacristy door ; first came a company of acolytes ; then the archbishops and bishops, mitred and arrayed in all the insignia of their order ; then the pope's legate ; and next His Eminence the car- dinal, his train borne by two boys. Be- hind the cardinal came Count Marefoschi, in the uniform of the papal guard ; then another procession of priests, closed by the Dominican monks in white, and the Franciscans in brown robes. The bodies composing the procession being duly ar- ranged, the church was now filled with joyous music from the choir. Cardinal McCloskey was, of course, the noteworthy figure in this dazzling assem- bly. He wore a light purple or mauve cas- sock, a white surplice, and a velvet manta- lettaof deep purple ; about his neck was a gold chain, from which was suspended a ponderous cross, blazing with magnificent gems ; on his head was a black berretta — a small cap with three crests which run from the central point on top to the other edge, — which, upon removal, showed be- neath it the small scarlet skull cap, the well known sacerdotal insignia. His tall spare person, towering over the larger number near liim, and his finely intellect- ual and energetic face, gave decided char- acter to the scene. All the bishops, with their gorgeous mitres and copes of gold and silver and sheeny satin, embroidered in various colors ; the cardinal tranquilly seated on his throne ; the gigantic guard, in the person of Count Marefoschi, mag- nificently attired, at his left ; Archbishop Bayley, on the throne beyond the blazing altar, whose wealth of flowers and their tender hues became well nigh lost in the dazzle and blaze of the firmament of can- dles ; the sober 3'et superb decorations of the whole altar and sanctuary, and the storm of music that swept over all ; — it was a spectacle never to be forgotten. Cardinal McCloskey, wearing his rochet, purpio cassock, etc , knelt at the epistle altar; the archbishop of Baltimore sat on the same side; the officiating prelate and clergymen stood at the altar steps ; and mass was commenced. At the confiteor, the cardinal stood up. and proceeded to his throne at the gospel side, he alone of all the prelates present having a pastoral staff, which was carried by an officiating bishop. After incensing the altar three times, he sat down with the deacon and sub- deacon. Bishop Loughlin read ' Introit,' recited 'Kyrie,' and intoned 'Gloria in Excelsis,' which was afterwards SMng by the choir. Collects were read by the celebrant, the ' Epistle ' by the sub-deacon, and, while Bishop Loughlin read the 'Gospel,' the congregation rose to their feet ; he then chanted ' Credo in Unum Deum,' and in a low voice recited the remainder of the Nicene Creed. At this point, after the choir had fin- ished. Bishop Loughlin repaired to the altar, where, after the customary 'Domi- nus vobiscum ' and ' Oreraus,' he proceeded to read prayers at the offertory. The dea- con and sub-deacon then prepared sacred vessels and bread and wine. Mercan- dante's 'Quam dilecta' was sung during this period. Acolytes then advanced wilh censers and the altar was incensed by the celebrant, the archbishop and bishop ris- ing and removing their mitres, the priests and entire congregation also rising. At this time, the church was a level sea of heads, and, when the bells tinkled to an- 378 COXSECEATION OF THE FIEST CARDINAL. nounce the opening of canon or solemn part of tl)e ceremony, the people were un- able to kneel, so tightly were they packed together. Toward the end of the mass, was observed the interesting ceremony of giving the ' pax,' or kiss of peace, — not left hand side of the altar, and the arch- bishop of Baltimore stepped down from his throne and knelt at the epistje side. Ablegate Roncetti stood beside Archbishop Bayley, and in a loud clear voice read the message, in Latin, from the Pope to his 'NSECKATION OF THE FIKST AMFKI' AN i AKI'INAL. exactly a kiss, but an inclination of heads together, while the hands rest on others' arms. 'Pax' was given from one to the other until it passed along to right and left, all through the crowded sanctuary. When mass was finished, the most nota- ble scene of the great occasion commenced. Cardinal McCloskey rose and knelt at the venerabilis frater, giving the reasons wliich induced him to confer the cardinalate upon Archbishop McCloskey, and at its close handed him the parchment ' brief,' author- izing him to confer the berretta, in the name of His Holiness, on this newly ap- pointed prince of the Church. The arch- bishop Laving replied, in the Latin Ian- CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL. 6rs giiage, delivered the brief to ,a deacon of the mass, and, after reatKiig it, Count Marefoschi surrendered tlie borretta to Mgr Roucetti, who, liaiuling it to Arch- bisliop Bayle_y, the latter walked over to Cardinal McCloskey and placed the cap on his head, at the same time addressintr o him as 'Eminentia tua ' Cardinal Mc- Closkey made a suitable reply, in the Latin vernacular, and, after intoning 'Te Deum,' retired to the vestry, where he put on the crimson robes of liis ofiSce, and re- turned to the altar, while the choir sang ' Te Deum.' The interest, both ecclesiastical and historical, pertaining to the papal docu- ments referred to, entitle them to an in- sertion in this place. The first of these, couched in the usual phraseology of com- munications of such grave importance, is addressed — ' To our Venerable Brother, James Roose- velt Bayley, Archbishop of Baltimore. I'lus IX., Pope. Venerable Brother, Health and Apostullc Benediction : After the example of the Roman Pontiffs, our predecessors, it has ever been our care to fill the College of Cardinals, which is the Sen- ate of the Church, with men whose piety, virtue, and merits, should correspond to the splendor of so great a dignity. ]t is this that has moved us to proclaim Cardinal of tlie Holy Roman Church, our Venerable Brother, John McCloskey, Archbishop of New York; whose piety, learning, devotion to His Holy Apostolic See, and whose indefatigable zeal in the cultivation of the Lord's Vineyard, have been so conspicuously evident to Us that we have thought him worthy of this great honor. And now that we would choose a per- sonage for tlie office of conferring upon him the berrettii, one of the insignia of his new dignity, we have thought well to select for the office you, venerable brother, who presides over so illustrious a church, and one that has the right of precedence over all the churches of the United States of America. We know that such is your devotion toward us and toward ibis chair of the blessed Peter, tliat we are confident you will, in the discharge of this office, fulfill all our expectations. We, there- fore, by these presents, charge you, venerable brother, that, strictly observing whatever is prescribed by the sacred rites of the Romiwi Church, you confer, in our name and in his own Cathedral church, upon our beloved son, John McCloskey, proclaimed by us a Cardi- nal of the Holy Konum Church, the scailet berretta, which we have sent to him by the hand of our beloved son, C^sau Roncetti, one of our private chamberlains ; and we, thei-efore, through these jiresents, by the same apostolic authority, grant you all the poweis necessary and pi-oper for the purpose. And it is our wish that nothing contained in any other ordinance shall be construed thwarting our purpose, even though such thing might seem to require special and individual men- tion. Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 16th day of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon- tificate the twenty-ninth. [l. s.] F. Cardinal Asquini.' The above letter was followed by one which announced to the distinguisheil pre- late, personally, that His H oliness haa been pleased to make him one of the princes of the Church, and was addressed — ' To our Beloved Son, John McCloskey — by the Appointment and Favor of the Apos- tolic of our Arclibishop of New York, and now proclaimed a Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church. Pius IX., Pope. Beloved Son, Health and Apostolic Benediction: Having been placed, through the Divine will, without any merit of ours, in the supreme dignity of this Apostolic See, with that solici- tude which should be characteristic of our pastoral office, while laboring for the welfare of the Catholic Church, we have ever sought to enroll among the number of our venerable brethren the Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, men of such conspicuous merit as the dignity of their illustrious order demands. For this reason it is that we have chosen you, our well-beloved son, whoe eminent piety, virtue and learning, and zeal for the propaga- tion of the Catholic faith, have convinced us that your ministry would be of great utility and honor to the Church of God. Having, therefore, created you a Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, we send to you, by our be- loved son, C.ESAn I'.oxoetti, one of our secret chamberlains, the scarlet berretta, which is one of the iusigtiia of that sublime dignity. When, with the proper forms, it shall have been conferred upon you, know that its shin- ing crimson should ever remind him who is 6S0 CONSECKATIOi^ OF THE FIRST CAEDlJfAL. elevated to the Cardinalitial dignity, that, fearless and unconquered, he must ever up- hold the rights of the Church of God through every danger, even to that sliedding of his blood wliich is pronounced precious in the siglit of the Lord. We also greatly desire that you would receive, with all manner of kind- ness, him who we have sent to you, Loth for the sake of the mission upon which he is sent and for our sake. It is also our wish, that, before you receive the berretta, you should take and subscribe with your own hand, the oath which will be presented to you by the afore- mentioned, our beloved son, Cesar Roncetti, and send it to us, either by his hand, or any other. And it is our wish that no persons, constitutions or ordinances, of this Apostolic See, or anything else whatsoever, shall be con- strued as invalidating this our present act. Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 26th day of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon- tificate the twenty-ninth. [l. s.] F. Cardinal Asquisi. The closing act in this solemn pageant, after the inspiring strains of music had ceased to fill the air, was the pontifical bene- diction by the Cardinal, and, after the re- tirement of the celebrants in processional order, the vast throng of spectators dis- persed. The new Cardinal entered upon his great office with the reputation, accorded to him alike b3' Protestants and Catholics, of a name without a stain, and a career honor- able and dignified, through a long life. It is certainly not saying too much, that, in the annals of American Catholicism, so memorable a ceremonial as that now des- cribed must render historical, in the high- est degree, the sacred edifice in which it occurred. But only a few years elapsed, after this unprecedented occasion, when the venerable Cardinal had the satisfaction of officiating at the dedication of the new and magnificent St. Patrick's Cathedral just completed on Fifth Avenue, — the most superb ecclesiastical structure not only in Kew York citj', but on the American conti- nent. The dedication took place May 25, 1879, or nearly twenty-one years after the laying of the corner-stone. The founda- tions rest on a bed of solid rock, in which excavations therefor had to be made, and at the normal level of the surrounding ground rests a chisel-dressed base course of granite. From this springs a pure Gothic marble superstructure, similar in archi- tecture to the style obtaining in Europe during the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- turies, and, like the cathedrals of Amiens, Eheims, and Cologne, this is free from heaviness and over-ornamentation. Most of the windows on the lower tier were do- nations from various churches, and some are of American make ; those of the nave were ordered by Cardinal McCloskey, when visiting Rome. These windows are de- clared by good judges to be masterpieces of art. The interior of the edifice is di- vided into three parts — transept, nave, and choir, — of dimensions as follows : Length of transept, 140 feet ; height of nave, 108 feet; internal length of the building 306 feet, and breadth 96 feet. A series of chapels, each twelve feet deep, occupy either side of the edifice; the nave is di- vided from the aisles by two rows of clus- tered columns, sixteen columns in a row ; the choir has five baj-s, and arranged with double aisles on either side of the central aisle. The area of the interior of the ca- thedral is 38,500 square feet ; there is standing room for 19,000 people, and 14,000 can be accommodated with seats. The cost of the cathedra], when completed, will approximate $5,000,000. The first event in connection with the dedication of the edifice was the solemn consecration, two days previously, of the High Altar, the chief consecrator being the Eight Eev. Bishop Conroy, of Albany, N. Y. This grand altar, exquisite in material, design, and artistic beauty, stands forty-eight feet in height to the apex of the cross sur- mounting the tabernacle. The number of eminent prelates present was quite large comjjrising not less than six archbishops, in cope and mitre, followed by the bishops, similarly attired, and making in all a gath- ering of forty-three members of the Epis- copacy. The scene of the dedication, un- der the lead, primarily, of the eminent and venerable Cardinal, was impressive to a degree rarely witnessed on American soil. LXXXIL " MIRACLES OF SCIENCE," OR FOUR NEW WONDERS OF THE WORLD.— 1876. The Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity.-The Telephone, or Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points—The Phonograph, ortalkmg Ma. chine Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of Speech or Song, in all their charac- teristics -The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of Sound, however Slight or Remote.-Splendor of the Electric Kays.-Former Inventions in this Line.-Prof. Farmer's Early Success.-Ed.sons Im- proved Device.-Its Special Cliaracteristics.-Sanguine Expectations Entertamed.-Interest Excited by the Telephone.-EnconiumsfromEngUsh Sources-Principles of Construction and Use-Simphc.ty and ServLableness-Tens of Thousands in Operation-How the Phonograph was Developed-Other Inventions Fairlv Eclipsed-Its Appearance, Form, Outcome-Words and Tones Recorded-Aston- Uhment and Delight. Its Five Chief Features-Marvels of the Microphone-A Touch or T.ck Audible for MUes.-Arrangement of the Apparatus.-Curious Feats Accomplished-Explanation of this property. "The realm of scUnliflc in»e«figatlon U actively occupied at present by our American coaeioa, and "itb reialU aimply artonndini." — LOKOON TlUES. r HE "miracles of science," or the « four new wonders of the world is the familiar phraseology with which those remarkable achievements in the world of discovery and invention-en the electric action in the light when the max- imum intensity has been attained ; the combination with the electric light of a circuit closing lever operated by heat from the electric current or from the light, and a shunt or short circuit to di- vert the current or a portion thereof from the light; the combination with the elec- tric* light and a resistance of a circuit closer operated by heat, and serving to place more or less resistance in the circuit of the light; the combination with an electric light of a diajihragm operated by the expansion of a gas or fluid in propor- tion to the temperature of the light, to regulate the electric current; the combi- nation with a vibrating bod\', similar to a tuning fork, of mechanism for maintain- ing the vibration and magnets, cores, and helices, by means of which a secondary current is set up, so as to convert me- chanical motion into electric force, or the reverse ; and, finally, the combination with the electric lights of means for regu- lating the electric current to the same, in proportion to the heat evolved in the light, so as to prevent injury to the apparatus. His improved alloy of the refractory met- als, and the thermo-static regulator, are the means, in this case, of securing a liglit which is alleged to be the most steady, clear, inexpensive, and reliable, of any electric light j-et proposed. In other words, the plan consists in placing an electric light in branch circuits passing across from the positive to the negative conductor, and the lights are controlled by switches which connect the branches with or disconnect them from the main conductors. The lamp consists of a suita- ble standard, surmounting which is a trans- parent glass case, resembling an ordinary lamp chimney, except that it is closed at the top ; within this is suspended a spiral of metal wire, hardly larger than a knit- ting needle in diameter, and about three- quarters of an inch in length. When the electricity is turned on, this spiral glows with a white light, of great brillianc}' and steadiness. Should the sanguine expec- tations of the inventor of this device be realized, a revolution in artificial illumi- nation, especially in-doors, will indeed take place, involving, practicallj', the dis- use of every other method and material. Already, in this countrj' and in Europe, the various arrangements for electric illu- mination which have seemed the most prac- ticable have been put into operation, with various degrees of success, and, in the case of large inclosures or areas, there appears to be no doubt as to its superiority. For light-houses, it has some valuable points of adaptation, and for various purposes at sea its emploj-ment must be found ex- tremely serviceable. The results of its introduction in the light-house at South Foreland prove its usefulness in this rela- tion. The electric current for this light is generated by means of large magneto- electric machines, which are driven by belting connected with a steam-engine, each machine being composed of ninety- six helices, mounted upon six gun-metal wheels, each carrying sixteen helices ; be- tween these wheels are placed the mag- nets, eight in each divi-sion, fort}' of which are composed of six layers or leaves riv- eted together, while the sixteen end ones have but three leaves each. The magnets, which are mounted in frames, are station- MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. 683 ary. while tlio lieliVps revolve at the rate of four liundreil revolutions per iiiiiiutc. The jiower absorbed by the electric ma- chine alone, including friction, is four indicated horse-power. The power of a magneto-electric machine is according to the gross attractive power of its magnets, each magnet having a certain lifting or attractive power expressed in pound-;. In the machines at South Eoreland, each of the six-piate magnets lift one hundred and eight pounds, and each of the three- plate magnets fifty-four pounds, making the attractive power of the magnets, in one machine, 6,184 pounds. Each of tlio six-plate magnets weighs fortj'-three and by this apparatus, taken 'with a dynamo- meter, shows 13-jY;y horse-power, the num- ber of lights being sixteen to seventeen to a machine, each light being of two thousand candle power. The details of the scientific principles and of the mechanical intricacies involved in these various remarkable inventions would cover many pages. It may be stated, therefore, generally, tlmt the rarbon jioints one-half pounds. The machines arc connected by underground cables with the electric lamps placed in the lenses of the tower. Tiie success which has attended the use of such machines or devices as the Lontin, Gramme-Jablochkoff, Eapieff, Werdermann, DeMeritens, Siemens. Wallace Farmer, Sawyer-Mann, Brush, Fuller, and some others, shows that, whatever may come of the efforts to secure the convenient and economical use of electric illumination in dwellings, there can scarcely be a doubt, as has al- ready been remarked, of the substitution of this system for all others, at no distant day, outdoors and in halls and other pub- lic buildings of considerable size. Quite a large number of one of the devices just mentioned have for some time past been in operation in some of the largest busi- ness and industrial establishments in the United States ; the tests of power absorbed KLECXKIC LlGUr AT M:A. of a powerful machine for electric illumi- nation are equal to the sun in lustre — it is thought possible, indeed, that even this limit may be overpassed, as the sun doeo not occupy the first position in the uni- verse. In quantity and quality, too, the electric light greatly exceeds all flames ; it is, in fact, precisely this immense pro- fusion of illuminating power that has proved objectionalile. Nothing is easier, Iiowever, than to reduce the lustre of the 684 MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. light to any degree that may be desired — that is, by covering the arc with a large opalescent globe, which, while hiding the light, receives all the rays, and disperses them in the same way as if the globe itself were luminous. To be suitable for pur- poses of illumination, a light should con- tain, according to chemical authority, the seven primitive colors of the spectrum in certain proportions ; the flames of oil and gas do not contain the true proportions of these, which is the cause of their inferi- ority. The electric light is white — abso- lutely the same as that of the sun — and contains all the simple rays in the same proportions. The subdivision of the light. as it is termed, to accomplish which in- ventors have put forth the most ingenious endeavors, is one of the claimed peculiar- ities of Edison's device, a single machine being thus utilized for the production of several smaller illuminators, instead of for one large volume of light. We come now to the Telephone, the patent for which wonderful device was taken out at Washington, in March, 1876, by Prof. A. G. Bell, affording fresh evi- dence of the versatility of American in- ventive genius. Though habitually sensi- tive to the honor and claims, in this direc- tion, of its own countrymen, the London Westminster Review frankly admits that, of all modern inventions connected with the transmission of telegraphic signals, the telephone lias deservedly excited the most widespread interest and astonish- ment, — an instrument which undertakes not only to convey intelligible signals, to great distances without the use of a bat- tery, but to transmit in fac-simile the tones of the human voice, so that the lat- ter shall as certainly be recognized when heard over a distance of hundreds of miles, as if the owner were speaking to a friend at his side in the same room. The telephone — as the tens of thousands now in use show — does all this. This marvelous little apparatus pro- duces, as already remarked, cheap and in- stantaneous articulate communication, that is, by direct sound, — neither batter}^, nor moving machinery, nor skill being re- quired, but merely the voice of ordinarv conversation, and attentive listening. It conveys the quality of the voice, so that the tone of the person speaking can be recognized at the other end of the line ; it enables the manufacturer to talk with his factory superintendent, and the physi- cian with his patients; establishes instan- taneous intercourse between the main and the branch ofBce, the home and the store, the country residence and the stable or any part of the grounds, the mouth of the mine and its remotest workings, — in fact, be- tween any two points miles apart. In its mechanism, tlie telephone consists of a steel cylindrical magnet, about five inches long and three eighths of an inch in diameter, encircled at one extremity by a short bobbin of wood or ebonite, on which is wound a quantity of very fine insulated copper 'wire. The magnet and coil are contained in a wooden cj-lindrical case. The two ends of the coil are soldered to thicker pieces of copper wire, which trav- erse the wooden envelope from one end to the other, and terminate in the binding screws at its extremity. Immediately in front of the magnet is a thin circular iron plate; which is kept in its place by being jammed between the main portion of the wooden case, and a wooden cap carrying the mouth or ear trumpet. These two parts are screwed together. The latter is cut away at the centre so as to expose a portion of the iron plate, about half an MIRACLES OF SCIENCE 685 inch in diameter. In the experiments made to determine tlie influence of the various parts of the telephone on the re- sults produced, and their relations to each other in obiaining the best effects, iron plates were employed of various areas and thicknesses, from boiler plate of three- eighths' inch to the thinnest plate procur- able. Wonderful to relate, it appeared that scarcelj' any plate was too thin or too thick for the purpose, though that of the ferrotype plate used by photographers seemed preferable, thin tin plate also an- swering very well. To accomplish the purpose sought, the iron plate was cut into the form of a disk, about two inches in diameter, and placed as near as possible to the extremity of the steel magnet with- out actually touching it, — the effect of this position being that, while the induced magnetism of the plate amounted to con- siderable, it was susceptible to very rapid changes owing to the freedom with which the plate could vibrate. Good results are obtainable by means of a magnet only an inch and a half long, and a working instru- ment need not be too large for the waist- coat pocket. There is no difference be- tween the transmitting and the receiving telephone, each instrument serving both purposes. As already remarked, no skill or training is required for the effective use of the instrument, — the operator has merely to press the apparatus to his ear to hear distinctly every sound transmitted from the distant end. For this, it is true, an effort of attention is required, and some persons use the instrument at the first trial with more success than others. In- dividuals differ in the facility with which they are able to concentrate their attention on one ear, so as to be practically insensible to what goes on around them ; but this habit of attention is readily acquired, and, when once acquired, the telephone may be used by any one who has ears to hear and a tongue to speak. In sending a message, the instrument is held about an inch in front of the mouth, and the sender merely talks into the mouthpiece in his ordinary natural manner. The words are repeated by the instrument at the other end of the circuit with the same pitch, the same cadences, and the same relative loudness ; one voice is readily distinguished from another, the character of the speaker's voice being faithfully preserved and repro- duced. Other instruments of this nature, or improvements upon it, brought forward by Graj-, Dolbear, Edison, Phelps, and others, cover substantially the same gen- eral principles of construction and method. Following closely in point of time, and, if possible, really eclipsing in wonderful- ness the invention just named, is Edison's Phonograph, discovered purelj' by acci- rHii.NOGiiArii. dent, — a simple apparatus, consisting, in its original mechanism, of a simple cylin- der of hollow brass mounted upon a shaft, at one end of which is a crank for turning it, and at the other a balance-wheel, the whole being supported by two iron up- rights. In front of the cjdinder is a movable bar or arm, which supports a mouthpiece of gutta-percha, on the side of which is a disk of thin metal, such as is used for tak- ing ' tin-type ' pictures. Against the cen- tre of the lower side of this disk, a fine steel point is held by a spring attached to the rim of the mouthpiece; an india-rubber cushion between the point and the disk controls the vibration of the spring. The cylinder is covered with a fine spiral groove running continuously from end to end. In using the Phonograph, the first opera- tion is to wrap a sheet of tin-foil close around the cylinder; the mouthpiece is then adjusted against the left-hand end of the cylinder so closely that the vibration of the voice on the disk will cause the point to press the tin-foil into the groove, making minute indentations resembling, on a very small scale, the characters of the Morse telegraph. The cylinder is moved from right to left by the screw G86 MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. crank, so nicely adjusted that the steel point is always against the centre of the spiral groove. While turning the crank, the operator talks into the mouthpiece in a voice slightly elevated above the ordi- nary tone of conversation. Every vibra- tion of his voice is faithfully recorded on tlie tin-foil by the steel point, the cylinder inakint; about one revolution to a word. In order to reproduce the words — that is, to make the machine talk, — the cylinder is turned back, so that the steel point may go over the indentations made by speak- ing into the mouthpiece. A funnel, like a speaking trumpet, is attached to the mouth- piece, to keep the sounds from scatter- ing. Now, turning the crank again, every word spoken into the mouthpiece is ex- actly reproduced, with the utmost distinct- ness, to the astonishment and delight of the hearer. Thus the disk is either a tympa- num or a diaphragm, as the case may be, the first when it listens, the second when it talks. Of course, the original device would, true to the characteristic of Ameri- can inventive genius, be carried forward from step to step, in its mechanism and capabilities. It soon became a beautiful construction, nothing being lost sight of in the way of devices for quick adjustment and in respect to other details. Among the improvements which soon followed was that of a mica diaphragm in place of the original disk of metal, this having been found to obviate the objectionable metallic tone of the sound noticeable in the original machine. Among the facts or results which the inventor claims to be realized by this won- derful apparatus, are — the captivity of all manner of sound-waves heretofore designa- ted as ' fugitive,' and their permanent re- tention ; their reproduction with all their original characteristics at will, without the presence or consent of the original source, and after the lapse of anj' period of time ; the transmission of such captive sounds through the ordinary channels of commer- cial intercourse and trade in material form, for purposes of communication or as mer- chantable goods; the indefinite multiplica- tion and preservation of such sounds, with- o'lt regard to the existence or non-esistence of tlie original source; the captivation of sounds, with or without the knowledge or consent of the source of their origin. These five features may well be said to constitute a mechanical marvel hitherto undreamed of. Indeed, the instrument was in no sense the child of design or even forethought. In experimenting with the telephone, Edison happened to notice the manner in which the disks of that con- trivance vibrated in accordance with the breath used in speaking. Believing these vibrations could be recorded so as to be reproduced, he set to work to manufacture a machine for the purpose, the result being the phonograph, — an aj)paratus that will faithfully record and repeat every syllable uttered, with all the peculiarities of vocal- ization or articulation, that will sing, whistle, sneeze, cough, sigh, echo, &c., &c. With the improvements upon the Phono- graph already in progress, — among which is that of impelling the apparatus by clock- work or machinery suited to the special purpose to which it is to be put, — some of the expected applications, as enumerated by the inventor, are those of letter-writing and other forms of dictation, books, educa- tion, public or private readings, music, family record, also such electrotype ap- plications as books, musical boxes, toys, clocks, advertising and signaling appara- tus, speeches, etc. Of the first of these uses, (and which may be said to illustrate representatively the ingenuity involved in the adaptation of the contrivance to other specialties), the general principles of con- struction adopted by Mr. Edison consist in having a flat plate or disk, with spiral groove on the face, operated by clock-work underneath the plate, the grooves being cut very closely together so as to give a great total length to each surface — close calculation showing the capacity of each sheet of foil upon which the record is had to be in the neighborhood of forty thou- sand words. Allowing the sheets to be ten inches square, the cost would be so trifling that but one hundred words might MIEACLES OF SCIENCE. 687 be put upon a single sheet economically, the chief point to be effectuated by experi- ment in this case, being, of course, that each sheet have as great capacity as possi- ble. This form of Phonograph for com- munications Mr. EJisou characterizes as very simple in practice. Thus, a sheet of tin-foil is placed in the phonograph, the clock-work set in motion, and the matter dictated into the mouthpiece, without other effort than when dictating to a stenog- rapher. It is then removed, placed in a suitable form of envelope, and sent though the ordinary channels to the correspondent for whom designed, — he, placing it upon his phonograph, starts his clock-work and listens to what his correspondent has to say; inasmuch, then, as it gives the tone of voice of Ills correspondent, it is identi- fied, and, as it may be filed away as other letters, and at any subsequent time re- produced, it is a perfect record. A kindred instrument, in some respects, with the preceding, — and like that a gen- uine marvel, — is the Miceophone, or transmitter of sound, by the use of which, a mere touch, or so small a sound as the tick of a watch, for instance, may be heard at the distance of miles, and the walking of a fly resembles the tramp of an elephant or the tread of a horse on a rough road. The telephone brings the sound from a distance, and the microphone magnifies the sound when it is thus brought near, — thus rendering the latter just as appli- cable to the sounds transmitted from Lon- don or Dublin to New York, if transmis- sible so far, as to the sounds in a vibrating plate which is within a few inches of the listener's ear. The invention depends on so breakin;;, by the interposition of char- coal permeated by fine atoms of mercury, the currents transmitted by the telephonic wire, that the sound is vastly increased by the interruption — just as heat is known to be vastly increased by a similar interrup- tion of a current, even to the turning of metallic wire to a red or white heat. Thus the microphone will make a minute sound audible, whether it be close or far off. In Edison's pile instrument, a piece of cork is fastened to the diaphragm, and presses upon a strip of platinum which is attached to a plate of copper ; the latter is one of the terminals of an ordinary galvanic pile. The other terminal plate presses against the metallic frame of the instrument. When the pile is included in a closed telephone circuit, it furnishes a continuous current, the strength of this current depending upon the internal re- sistance of the pile and its polarization, and these are varied by vibrating the diaphragm; the pile is composed of alter- nate plates of zinc and copper, and a bibu- lous medium between the pairs of plates. A simple form of microphone, also, is constructed with a wooden diaphragm one- eighth of an inch thick and four inches square, this being glued to a narrow frame supported by suitable legs Two pieces of batter}' carbon are secured by means of sealing wax to the diaphragm, about an inch apart, and at equal distances from the centre. They are both inclined downward at an angle of about thirty degrees. One of the pieces of carbon is longer than the other, and has in its under surface three conical holes, made with a penknife point, which are large enough to receive the upper ends of the graphite pencils, tne lower ends of the pencils resting in slight cavities in the lower carbon ; these pencils are simply pencil leads sharpened at both ends and placed loosely between the car- bons, — they are also inclined at different angles, so that the motion of the diaphragm ^^hich would jar one of them would simply move the others so as to transmit the sound properly. The development or conception of the microphone is stated to have been as for- tuitous as the discovery of the phonograph. Thus, in the Hughes device, the Professor was led by his experiments to place a small electric battery in circuit with the tele- phone. He was surprised to find, on add- ing weights to a fine wire through which the current was flowing, that, just before the breaking strain was reached — just when the fibres of the metal were torn asunder — a peculiar rushing sound was 688 MIRACLES Gi^ SCIENCE. observable in the telephone. He then tried whether he could reproduce this noise by loosely binding the wires again together, and he found that by this means he had hit upon a wonderfully sensitive detector of sounds, — any noise near the wires being immediately taken up by the telephone with startling distinctness The slightest attachment of the wires procured the same results, and then the joined wires were modified into an apparatus which merely consisted of three nails, two being parallel and connected with the battery wires, and the third resting upon them. Although this ridiculously simple arrange- ment was capable of transmitting all kinds of noises to a distant place, the sounds were confused. This led to experiments with different conducting substances, the most reliable results, however, being ob- tained from the various forms of carbon. An arrangement was then devised which not only proved successful, but so sensi- tive, in fact, as to be almost beyond con- trol, namely, a tiny pencil of fine gas coke dropped into indentations in two blocks of the same material. This compact little instrument, fastened to a cigar box, it was found would transmit to a lung distance the ticking of a watch placed near it, — the gentle touch of a feather, or a camel's hair pencil, reached the ear as the rasping of a file, while the scratch of a quill pen in the act of writing was augmented to a loud noise. But better than this form, of course, is that of a base board about three inches long, having screwed upon it two little angle pieces of brass plate, and a metallic bar, pivoted on to these brass supports, with a piece of carbon at its end ; this carbon block rests upon two similar pieces kept together by a cloth hinge placed at the side, and the lower block, to which one of the battery wires is attached, is fastened to the board ; the pressure upon these carbon surfaces is controlled by a delicate .spring of brass wire, which is attached to a screw with a milled head. By turning this screw, the pressure is nicely adjusted, from the very light contact required for delicate sounds to the comparatively heavy pressure wanted when the sounds are more intense. But, to describe this marvelous instrument in the various forms of construction already given to it by inventors at home and abroad, notwithstanding its recent intro- duction, would require scores of pages. LXXXIII. CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION OF THE BIRTH OF THE REPUBLIC— 1876. Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, throughout the Land.— Prosperity, Power, and Renown of the Nation— A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million People.— Anticipations of the Coming Anniversary —Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Observance -A Grand Exposi- tion of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature Decided Upon— Vast Work of Preparation — Tlie Whole World at Peace, and All Countries and Climes in Sympathy with the Republic and its Auspicious Era.-Ushering in the Year's Ceremonials.-Every City, Town, and Villa-e Covered with Gay Streamers and Waving Flags.-Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraterniza- tion -Wondrous Microcosm of Civilization Concentrated at Philadelphia.-The Culminating Art and'skill of Sixty Centuries of Human Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the Globe Displayed in their Richest lUustrations.-An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor Receiving the Salutations of the American People-Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, Cannon, Regatt.,s, Banners, Hallelujahs and Huzzas.-The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the Orient and Occident, in Boundless Combinations.-The " Glorious Fourth." All Over the Land. —Congratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany. country and their development, and of it» progreB. in those arts »h,eh benefit mankmd. -Pbeside.nt Ukani NE hundred years after the Dec- • laration of Independence at Phil adelphia, which great event gave :5^ birth and national sovereignty to a new Republic, the centennial ' commemoration of that august act filled the land with such festival - and pageant of joy, as only a free people — prosperous, powerful, and renowned,— could be expected to exhibit. From a feeble beginning, of thirteen weakly colonies, with a scattered population of three million people, struggling with war and debt, they had now at- tained to the colossal growth of OF INDEPENDENCE. , . t. i-^ nearly forty great commonwealths and forty million inhabitants and m 'e^P^c Jo Xtver rTlates to man's material and moral advancement, found themselves unexceUed by any empire O' kingdom on the face of the wide earth. HOL'SE IN WHICH TUOJI.^S .lEFI'EKS. ,N WltoIE THE DECLAKATION OF INDEPENDENCE C90 CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATJGN. Anticipation? oi the coming anniversary had long bee a prominent in the minds of the people and, in view of the peculiarly national character of the event, it was at an early stage of the discussion brought before the assembled wisdom of the repub- lic, iu the halls of congress, the result of which was the adoption of the idea that had for some time become widely popular, namely, that an exhibition of American and foreign arts, products, and manufac- tures be held, under the auspices of the government of the United States, in the city of Philadelphia, in the year 1876. To this end, the centennial commission was appointed — two commissioners from each state and territory, nominated by their respective governors, and approved by the president. Under this organiza- tion, the vast work of preparation com- menced, and, on the fourth of July, 1873, the ground set apart for the purpose was dedicated with appropriate ceremonies. The result of the succeeding three years of labor on the part of the commission, showed that not only from every section of our own land did the choicest contributions accumulate in every department of art, science, and mechanism, but that all for- eign countries also, — in response to the invitation extended to them by the Amer- ican government, — were in sympathy with the Republic and its auspicious era; so that, at the time designated for the grand ushering in of the years ceremonials, there was presented the most wondrous micro- cosm of civilization ever concentrated in one locality. There was, in fact, the cul- minating art and skill of sixty centuries I of human advancement, and the products _ of every quarter of the globe, displayed in their richest illustrations, — the beauty, utility, and magnificence, of the Orient and Occident, in boundless combinations. On the day of the formal inauguration of the exposition, and at which were pres- ent hundreds of thousands of joyous spec- tators^ with dignitaries from both hemi- spheres, the occasion was appropriately introduced by the vast orchestra perform- ing the national airs of all nations, as fol- lows: The V/ashii:gtoii Mar'^h; Argen- tine Republic, Marche de la Republica; Austria, Gott erbalte I'ranz den Kaiser; Belgium, La Brabansonne ; Brazil, Hymno Brasileira Nacional; Denmark, Volkslied — den tappre Landsoldat; France, La Marseillaise; Germany, Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland ; Great Britain, God Save the Queen; Italj^, Marcia del Re: Netherlands, Wie neerlandsch bloed ; Nor- way, National Hymn; Russia, National Hymn ; Spain, Riego's Spanish National Hymn ; Sweden, Volksongen — Bevare Gud var Kung; Switzerland, Heil dir Helve- tia; Turkey, March; Hail Columbia. Tollowing this musical prelude, the bold chords of Wagner's centennial inauguration march filled the air with floods of richest harmony ; solemn prayer was offered by Bishop Simpson ; and then a superb chorus of nearly a thousand voices, accompanied by orchestra and organ, sang Whittier's centennial hymn, set to music by John K. Payne. Formal presentation being now made of the building to the United State.« Centennial Commission by the president of the board of finance to General Hawley, president of the centennial commission, a cantata was sung with fine effect, the words by Lanier, of Georgia, and the music by Buck, after which the ceremo- nial presentation of the Exhibition to the President of the United States was made by General Hawley, in an eloquent address, to which General Grant responded in a eulogistic speech of acceptance, reviewing the progress of the century, bidding the whole world welcome, and declaring the exhibition open. On this announcement, the orchestra, chorus and great organ burst forth into triumphal strains of the ' Halle- lujah,' from the "Messiah," acclamations and huzzas rent the air ; and the unprec- edented spectacle was witnessed, of an American President and a crowned Empe- ror — the emperor of Brazil being present, and at President Grant's side, — receiving the enthusiastic salutations of the Ameri- can people. The case of Dom Pedro, it may be here remarked, furnishes the only instance in CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 69 ] 692 CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. the history of our century, of a reigning crowned head visiting the United States, with the exception of Kalakaua, king of the Sandwich Islands, whose tour occur- red ill 1874-5. And here may be cited one of the most notahle scenes which transpired on this wonderful occasion, namely, the starting of the stupendous engine constructed by Tilr. Corliss, which was to move the four- teen acres of machinery, comprising some eight thousand different machines, in the building devoted to that specialty. This starting operation was performed jointly by President Grant and Emperor Dom Pedro II., under the direction of Mr. Cor- liss. These two great personages took the THE CORLISS ENGIHE. positions assigned them by Mr. Corliss, who explained by a motion of the hands and a word or two, as to how the engines were to be started by the single turning of a slender steel arm, like the brake of a street railway car, — this action opening the throttle valve, and then the vast but quiet building would be instantly alive with all the functions of every kind of a lactory in full practice. The time had arrived for the movement, and a most imposing array of eminent officials sur- rounded the president and emperor. "Now, Mr. President," said Mr. Corliss. "Well," said the president, quietly, "how shall I do it ? " The answer was, "Turn that little crank around six times." Pres- ident Grant made a motion with his fin- gers, inquiringlj-, "This way?" "Yes." In anotlier half minute, the screw was turned by the president, the colossal ma- chine above him began to move, the miles of shafting along the building began to revolve, innumerable steel and iron organ- isms were set going, and a visitor who retraced his steps could examine the proc- esses of half the important manufactures on the globe. At the wave of Mr. Corliss's hand, the emperor gave a sharp turn of his wrist and started his engine a moment in advance of the j^resident; but the re- sponse of the machinery at the single touch of these two men — countless wheels turning, bands beginning their rounds, cogs fitting into their places, pistons driv- ing backward and forward and up and down, jjerforming their infinitely varied functions — was so almost simultaneous, that few suspected that the Brazilian monarch had outstripped his host. This engine weighs eight hundred tons; will drive eight miles of shafting; has a fly- wheel thirty feet in diameter and weigh- ing seventy tons ; is of fourteen hundred horse-power, with a capacity of being forced to twenty-five hundred ; has two walking-beams, weighing twenty-two tons each ; two fortj'-inch cylinders, a ten-feet stroke, a crank-shaft nineteen inches in diameter and twelve feet in length; con- necting rods twenty-four feet in length, and piston rods six and one-fourth inches in diameter ; height from the floor to the top of the walking-beams, thirty-nine feet. It was in vastness, power, and ingenuity, the mechanical marvel of the exhibition. The plan of construction for the accom- modation of the several grand features of the exposition, comprised five main build- ings conveniently located at different points on the five hundred acres devoted to centennial purposes, being about one- sixth of the area of Fairmount Park, on the Schuylkill river, than which no more delightful locality could have been selected. These structures consisted, respectively, of CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 393 the main building, having an area of about twenty-cue and a-half acres ; that for ma^ chinery, fourteen acres ; for agriculture, ten acres; for horticulture, one and a-half; for art, one and a-half. In addition to these, the number of special structures, including the memorial hall, and those erected by the United States government, by foreign nations, by the different States, by the women, etc., etc., was among the hundreds. Many of these were of great cost and striking architectural beauty, and, with statues, fountains, flower plots, and other decorative objects innumerable, produced a scene of surpassing attraction. The variet}' of special celebrative events, in combination with the wondrous display of every marvel and masterpiece gathered from art and nature in the four continents, attending this centennial commemoration, may be judged of by the following pro- gramme: Harvesting display; trials of steam plows and tillage implements; ex- hibition of horses and mules, — of horned cattle, — of sheep, swine, goats, and dogs, — of poultry ; national gathering of the Order of Good Templars; international regatta; yacht regatta; gathering of the Sons of Temperance ; the Grand Army of the Republic ; Knights Templars ; wo- men's temperance union ; Am. musical as- sociation ; international series of cricket matches ; congress of authors in Inde- pendence Hall; parade of Roman Catholic societies and dedication of their magnifi- cent fountain; parade of military organ- izations ; parade of the Knights of Pyth- ias ; international rowing regatta; inter- national rifle matches ; international med- ical congress ; parade of the Odd Fellows ; reunions of the army of the Potomac, Cumberland, and James ; etc., etc. Memorial Hall, or the art gallery, a most beautiful structure, was erected at the expense of the state of Pennsylvania and the city of Philadelphia, as a perma^ nent commemoration of the centennial. In its construction, nothing but granite, brick, glass and iron, were used. Its su- perb hall, pavilions, galleries and arcades, are surmounted with a dome of crystal and iron, terminating in a colossal bell, and, at the apex, Columbia rises, with protecting hands. Within these walls, the treasures of painting and sculpture displayed were almost beyond enumera- tion — certainly beyond description. The colossal proportions of the main building struck every visitor's wondering attention, — relieved, however, by its ex- quisitely artistic form and endless expanse of complementary colors, — and, within, a universe of the wonderful and beautiful, such as the eye of man never before be- held nor his hand created. The position of tl^e nations in this vast structure was an inl^eresting matter to determine, being finally decided as follows: Within the line of railing extending across the en- trance, to the north of the nave, the pavil- ions of Italy ; passing east, the arrange- ment comprised Norway, then Sweden, with the English colonies as a neighbor ; Canada adjoined, and then the mother country. Great Britain, occupying a large space down to the transept ; beyond En- gland was France, and the next in line, still on the north of the nave, Switzerland ; near the eastern end, and covering as much room as France, Switzerland, Belgium, Brazil, the Netherlands, and Mexico com- bined, the United States exhibited her wonderful progress, in innumerable illus- trations ; opposite to Great Britain, ap- peared the German Empire, alongside Austria, and Hungary in the rear; ap- proaching still towards the west, but on the south side of the nave, came Russia and Spain, and, along the nave, followed Egypt, Turkey, Denmark, and Sweden, while in the rear of these were Tunis, Portugal, and the Sandwich Islands; in the front rank was Japan, facing Norway and Sweden, and next to the latter, and back of her, was China; Chili had a place near the entrance from the west, and, near by, was the Argentine Republic. These were the locations of the principal nation- alities. Handsome, and grand in its amplitude, and tasty in its harmonies of form aiid color, the machinery building fairly be- 69^ CENTENNIAL COMMEMOKATION. CENTENNIAL COM]\IEMORATION. 695 wildered both the eye and mind of the observer, by its ever-varying contents, while the prevalent somberness of its acres of iron and steel construction was pleas- antly relieved by the cheerful coloring. Horticultural hall seemed like some fairy palace, with its light and airy design, and delicate ornamentation, the grand conserv- atory alone constituting a world of beauty tures ; was built almost entirely of wood and glass, and the color a delicate whitish tint throughout, — no effort, however, be- ing made in the way of ornamentation, but simply to have a structure suitable for the purpose and in keeping with the char- acter of the exhibits. The woman's build- ing, or pavilion, devoted entirely to the results of woman's skill, was an attractive INDEPENDENCE HALL, JULY 4, 1876. to all lovers of nature ; in the flower beds surrounding this structure, more than thirty thousand hyacinth and tulip bulbs were planted, to displa}', with thousands of other beautiful plants, their full bloom on the opening or inauguration day. Ag- ricultural hall was entirely different in appearance from any of the other struc- structure, covering some thirty thousand square feet, and filled with the dulce et utile from all lands. The government building, of substantial and elegant de- sign, contained a revelation of wonders connected with the army and navy, the department of agriculture, the post-office, patent office, signal service, ordnance bu- 696 CENTENNIAL COMMEMuilATION. reau, light-house board, and all the subor- dinate departments and bureaus in any way connected with the government. In making reference to special objects of interest, brief mention is due in the case of a magnificent piece of silver bul- lion, in one mass, valued at a prodigious sum, and showing, in a conspicuous man- ner, the metallic riches yet to be unearthed in the remote West. The Smithsonian Institution showed every kind of American bird in an im- mense group by itself, also every kind of fish, mollusk, reptile and quadruped. Queen Victoria's personal contributions comprised a number of etchings by her own hand, also table napkins spun by her- self, and drawings and embroideries from her princess daughters. The Pennsylvania Bible Society circu- lated the scriptures in the language of every nationality represented on the grounds, a pure white flag floating from the top of its pavilion, bearing the words of Jer. xxii, 29 : " O Earth, Earth, Earth, hear the word of the Lord !" Among the evidences of Connecticut's skill was the huge centennial time-piece, — a clock weighing six tons and having eleven hundred pieces, with wheels four feet in diameter. A collection of models, sent by Massa- chusetts, of the various marine craft which have been employed in her waters, since the first settlement of Plymouth colony — some fifty or sixty, most elaborately executed, and all perfect in type — from the Indian birch canoes and first fishing boats used on the coast, up to the most improved modern iron-clad, attracted much notice. From the Pennsylvania coal mines came two blocks of coal, weighing, respec- tively, about two and one-fourth and five tons ; and, from her steel works, a solid ingot of stee! weighing 25,000 pounds, also a perfect steel rail, rolled, 120 feet long, and weighing 62 pounds per yard. In the navy department, the govern- ment exhibited curious specimens of shot and shells, small arms of all kinds, ships' guus and luwitzers, Gatling guns, and other terrible instruments of warfare; marine engines and boilers, showing the improvement made in marine engineering; immense cables, with mammoth iron links; likewise, beautifully finished models of every class of ship on the naval list, in- cluding lines of the famous craft on which Lawrence, Decatur, and McDonough fought and conquered, and the original appearance of " Old Ironsides " was finely reproduced. The patent office poured forth its treasures and curiosities — de- vices that have revolutionized labor the world over. More than one case was filled with relics of the great Washington — the clothes worn by him on memorable occa- sions, his swords, camp furniture, tents, etc. A complete set of maps showed the different areas of the United States where farm improvements have been made, where woods are most abundant, — every tree, shrub, flower, root, cereal and fiber, in their respective sections, — the fungi that destroy the different plants, — and so on. Louisiana's products included a tr e loaded with the somber, hanging moss, that renders some of her landscapes ^o gloomy, but which is now being used as a substitute for hair in mattresses and ui>- holstery. California sent gold quartz of surpassing richness, and wonderful grain and cacti as well. Of the Indian races, the leading features were aptly epitom- ized, and their habitations, manners, and customs, represented by delegations from different tribes. Of universal interest, of course, was the original draft of the Dec- laration of Independence — to be looked at, not touched. Whitefield's portable pulpit, which he usually took with him, and from which, he once said, the gospel had been preached to more than ten millions of peo- ple, was another interesting relic; also, Gener.al Stark's spurs, John Alden's desk. Governor Endicott's folding-chair, the sil- ver pitcher used by Lafayette in Boston, etc. The inventions and handiwork of boy* included, among other things, a heavy teii- wheel draft locomotive, cylinder eighteen by twenty-two inches, and all of consum- CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 6'J7 mate finish. The kiiulerg.arten plan of teaching was most fully illustrated in all its appliances auj methods. Massachusetts sent, among its rich and varied contributions, an organ of gigantic proportions, having fifty-nine stops and four banks of keys, its longest pipe being thirty-two feet and the shortest less than one inch; also, industrial designs, of strik- ing character, from the Massachusetts in- stitute of technology. Noticeable as a most sumptuous article of taste, was a hundred thousand dollar necklace from pie on the globe, — with her thousands of specimens of corn, cotton, sugar, her woods, fruits, honey, perfumery, scimetars; Aus- tralia, her mineral and agricultural prod- ucts, tin, iron, wool, wood; Canada, her row-boats, furs, iron-work; Scotland, her cut stones and precious gems, in every form of exquisite jewelry ; Switzerland, her watches of world-famed beauty ; Nor- way, and Sweden, their glass-work, wood carvings, porcelains, irons and steels ; Hol- land, her magnificent models of sea-coast works, bridges, dams, aqueducts ; Belgium, U:\iON SQUARE. XEW YORK, JULY 4, 1S7G. New York city, also the Bryant vase ; and, from Providence, the ' century vase,' of solid silver, being five feet four inches in length and four feet two inches high, and weighing two thousand ounces. Each State and section, in a word, presented its special exhibits, in superbest examples and endless profusion, tiring the eye and baf- fling description. Glancing a moment at the countless riches in every department of nature, art, and mechanism, which flowed from foreign nations of every zone, mention may first be made of Egypt — the most ancient peo- her curiously carved balustrades, cornice ornaments, statues ; China, her jars, vuses, and other specimens of ceramic art ; Japan, her multitudinous porcelains and bronzes ; Cuba, her palms, agaves, cact, and other tropical plants; Ital^', her fine art contri- butions, including rare and priceless gems from the Vatican, sent by Pius IX. ; France, with its selectest elaborations in almost every department of knowledge ami handicraft, not least among which being its Gobelin tapestries and Sevn.s fabrics; Great Britain, her infinitude of woolen, cotton and silk goods, carpetings, 698 CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATION. hardware, and paintings from illustrious artists ; — and so followed on, in magnifi- cent array, Austria, Germany, Russia, Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Turkey, Brazil, and others of the great family of nations, with the choicest products of their mines and looms, foundries and workshops, lapi- daries and ateliers. But why commence, even, the impossi- ble task of describing fifty teeming acres of templed wonders from every clime — the marvels and masterpieces of nature, science, and art, in bewildering variety and richness. No traversing, in fact, at all equal to the occasion, can here be es- sayed. It will require, indeed, all the copious volumes intended to be issued under official auspices, adequately to elab- orate and portray the genius and results presented in a disjilay so unexampled in the history of man. Nor would it be scarcely less impos- sible, in the scope of a single chapter, to sufficiently characterize the enthusiasm, "wide-spread as the continent, which usher- ed in and prolonged the observance of the Anniversarj- Day in especial, — July Fourth, — which numbered the first hun- dred years of the greatest republic upon which the sun ever shone. To say tliat the festal ingenuity of nearly forty great States and forty millions of people, with their tens of thousands of cities, towns, and villages, fairly spent itself, in efforts to suitably commemorate the Wonderful Anniversary, is only faintly expressing the fact. It was a festival of oratory, music, poetry, parade, bells, illuminations, regat- tas, cannon, banners, hallelujahs and huz- zas. At Philadelphia, the central point of historic interest and centennial ovation, the resources of a whole nation's pomp and glory seemed drawn upon, on a scale eclipsing, in extent and variety, anj' cele- brative occasion in the annals of the re- public. Congress, sitting in its halls in the capitol at Washington, had a few days previously passed a resolution of adjourn- ment to meet, on this wonderful da}', in Independence Hall, where, one hundred years before, occurred the birth of the nation, and where, subsequently, was framed that immortal instrument which gave to the republic a constitutional gov- ernment, the wisest and most admirable ever conceived by uninspired men. That the celebration in this city was, in every respect worthy of an occasion so august and of a spot so historically sacred and national, was universally admitted. A parade of troops, societies aud officials took place in the morning, ending at In- dependence Hall. The Centennial legion of troops from North and South was commanded by General Heath, formerly of the confederate army, and the proces- sion in various other waj's reflected the strength of the renewed feeling of national unity and fraternity. In Independence Square, the vice-president of the United States, Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, presided ; prayer was offered by Bishop Stevens; Dr. W. Holmes's 'Welcome to the Nations' was sung; Bayard Taylor read his national ode; Hon. William M. Ev- arts pronounced the oration ; the Declara- tion of Independence was read by Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, from the original document, which Pre.«ident Grant had in- trusted for the purpose to the mayor of Philadelphia. The faded and crumbled manuscript, held together by a simple frame, was then shown to the assembled multitude facing the platform, cheer fol- lowing cheer, at this rare spectacle. There was also sung the "Greeting from Brazil," a hymn composed for the occasion by A. Carlos Gomez, of Brazil, by the request of the Emperor, Dom Pedro. After the ode, the orchestra performed a grand triumphal march, with chorus, " Our National Banner," the words being by Dexter Smith, of Massachusetts, and the music by Sir Julius Benedict, of England. On the orator retiring from the speaker's stand, the Hallelujah chorus from the " Messiah " was sung, and then the whole of the ■vast throng united in singing the Old Hundredth Psalm. The magnificent spectacle presented by the procession was, however, the scene witnessed and enjoyed CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 69b 700 CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. with most general interest and admiration. It was miles in length, and in its ranks every one of the thirteen original States had a picked corps, and it was very evi- dent, from the hearty manner in which General Heath, — in the absence of Gen- eral Burnside, — formerly commanders, re- spectively, on the field of battle, of ' the boys in blue' and •the boys in gray,' but now knowing but one color and one flag — was received, that the fraternization of the North and the South was genuine and complete, on this great natal anniversary. The procession was under the lead of General and Governor Hartranft, and the splendid pageant was reviewed by General Sherman, Lieutenant- General Sheridan, and General Hooker, in whose company, on the guests' platform, were to be seen hundreds of official dignitaries, of civil and military fame. In Boston, as the representative metrojv olis of New England, and as the spot where, almost above all others, our nation's liberties had their origin and chief support, the preparations for the anniversary had been ma:le on a splendid scale, and these were carried out with perfect success to the end, witnessed and enjoyed by the patriotic multitudes who thronged the beautifully decorated city from the earli- est hour. There were parades, concerts, regattas, balloon ascensions, fire-works, and commemorative services at the great Music Hall, under the auspices of the municipal government, the orator being the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, a direct descendant of Governor Winthrop, of co- lonial times, and the Declaration of Inde- pendence being read by Mr. Brooks Ad- ams, a great-grandson of John Adams, the revolutionary patriot and leader. On the orator's platform was an article of extraor- dinary interest to the thousands of ej'es that were intently concentrated upon it, when, as Mr. Winthrop, in the early part of his oration, said : " And here, by the favor of a highly valued friend and fellow- citizen, to whom it was given by Jefferson himself a few months only before his death, I am privileged to hold in my hands, aud to lift up to the eager gaze of you all, a most compact and convenient little ma- hogany case, which bears this autograph inscription on its face, dated Monticello, November 18, 1825,— ' Thomas Jefferson gives this writing desk to Joseph Coolidge, Jr., as a memo- rial of his affection. It was made from a drawing of his own, by Ben Randall, cab- inetmaker of Philadelphia, with whom he first lodged on his arrival in that city in May, 1776, and is the identical one on which he wrote the Declaration of Inde- pendence. Politics, as well as Religion, has its superstitions. These, gaining strength with time, may, one day, give imaginary value to this relic, for its asso- ciation with the birth of the Great Charter of our Independence.' Superstitions ! Imaginary value ! Not for an instant (continued Mr. Winthrop,) can we admit such ideas. The modesty of the writer has betrayed even the masterly pen. There is no imaginary value to this relic, and no superstition is required to render it as precious and priceless a piece of wood as the secular cabinets of the world have ever possessed, or ever claimed to possess. No cabinet-maker on earth will have a more enduring name than this inscription has secured to ' Ben Randall of Philadelphia' No pen will have a wider or more lasting fame than his who wrote the inscription." The applause elicited by these remarks showed that the hearts of the great audience were still filled with the spirit of the fathers and founders of the republic, and that patriotic reverence for their names and deeds had suffered no decay. Conspicuously attractive, during the whole day, to the enthusiastic throngs, were the venerable buildings, still remain- ing, so memorably associated with the part taken by Boston during the revolutionary struggle. In the center of the portico at the east end of the Old State House, appeared prominently a fine copy of Paul Revere's painting of the King-Street Mas- sacre, eighteen by ten feet, showing on one side the British soldiers firing upon CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 701 the population, several of whom lie on the ground, weltering in their blood. Over the picture was a banner inscribed witli the words, "Massacre of the People by the British Troops," and, on a wreath above, the date— 1776. On each side of the painting stood figures of the Goddess of Liberty holding the American flag in ENTRANCE OF THE NEW YORK SEVENTH REGIMENT. one hand and an olive branch in the other. On each end of the portico were placed faces and flags of different nations, while above all, on the coping of a window, was perched an eagle, holding in its beak fes- toons of the red, white and blue. Faneuil Hall, the Old Cradle of Liberty, was another of th«se patriotic shrines. On its western end was placed a medallion, ten feet in diameter, in the center of which was a portrait of Lafayette, surrounded by tlie following sentiment, which was offered by the illustrious Frenchman at a banquet given to him by the authorities, in Au- gust, 1824, viz. : 'The city of Boston— the Cradle of Liberty ; may Faneuil Hall ever stand a monument to teach the world that resistance to oppression is a duty, and will, under true republican institutions, become a blessing.' The medallion was encompassed by a glory of French and American flags, and above stood the Goddess of Liberty holding fes- toons of bunting. Christ Church, King's Chapel, and especially the Old South Church — within the walls of wliich last named building, Warren, and Adams, and Otis, and the sons of liberty, gathered and spoke — were likewise places of most attractive interest. Local celebrations were held, also, in the various capitals of the States, as well as in hundreds and thousands of other cities, towns and vill- ages, calling forth every manner and mode of joyous festivity, on the part of old and young ; and statesmen, judges, generals, the " honorable of the land," furnished abundant oratory, and a vast amount of local history of permanent value. The honor of firing the first centennial salute in the United States — that at the first instant of day-break — is claimed, in point of localit}' and time, for Eastport, Me. In New York, as in Philadelphia, the jubilistic demonstrations commenced on a truly metropolitan scale, on the evening of the third. Indeed, the most vivid de- scription would convey only a faint idea of the picturesque and imposing appearance presented in the principal squares and avenues, from nine o'clock until far into the night. In Union Square, the whole scene was one of unparalleled beauty and grandeur, and nothing could be more impressive than wlien the advanced guard of the monster procession marched into the square by way of the plaza. It was almiist an hour after the start of the pro- cession before the head entered the grounds and took position. The members of the Sangerfer Bund were in full force of about V02 CENTENNIAL COMJIEMORATION. one thousand, on the platform, while the many bands that took part in the pro- cession assembled between the grand stand and the singers' stand. As soon as the immense concourse of people became set- tled, the singing societies performed, with grand effect, various martial and patriotic airs. Here, as in other parts of the chy, the display of fire-works was magnificent ; in fact, the lower portion of the city was, in this respect, a scene of bewildering splendor, Broadway being, as it were, a sea of fire from Dey street to Union square plaza. An electric apparatus at one of the lofty telegraph buildings poured a flood of light over the great thoroughfare ; among the buildings particularly brilliant with illuminations were the city hall, of im- mense and multitudinous windows, the bank, insurance, and newspaper buildings, the hotels, places of business, and a count less number of private residences, and never before in the history of the city was there such universal and gorgeous decoration. Castle William fired a salute of one hun- dred guns from its prodigious fifteen-inch cannon, the church bells chimed and rang, the locomotive and steam-boat whistles screamed ; while all over the city, as well as Brooklyn, Jersey City, and neighbor- ing localities, could be seen thousands of rockets, blue lights, bombs, and other pyrotechnics. Rev. Dr. Storrs was the orator of the day. Great parades, illuminations, and decor- ations, were the chief features in all the large western cities of the republic. The St. Louis Germans exhibited, in common with their intelligent and thrifty country- men throughout all the Union, the utmost patriotic enthusiasm, the special demon- stration consisting of a vast torch-light procession, and an address bj'' the Hon. Carl Schurz. San Francisco began Mon- day and ran through Wednesday with its varied and magnificent festivities, which included a military review, a sham battle, with mock bombardment from the forts and ships in the harbor and b.ay, torch- light display, orations, music, etc. In Washington, on account of the ofiicial par- ticipation in the exercises at Philadelphia, the celebration was mainly under the auspices of the Oldest Inhabitants' Asso- ciation, at the opera-house, where the Declaration of Independence — adopted when what is now the federal capital was a wilderness — was read, and an oration pronounced by Hon. L. A. Gobright ; and everywhere the national ensigns, floating from staff and tower, told of the wondrous anniversary. In the southern cities, Richmond led off at midnight preceding, by the firing of guns at five different points in and about the city, the festivities continuing far into the night succeeding ; and, in Norfolk and Portsmouth, no Fourth of July had, for many years, been so generally observed. Fire-crackers and cannon were brought CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 703 into requisition, various societies paraded the streets, and manj' houses were finely decorated with flags ; salutes were fired at sunrise, noon, and sunset, by the naval receiving ship and the monitors, all the government and commercial vessels were decked with bunting, and thousands of people went down to Fortress Monroe to witness the fire-works there displayed. Montgomery, Ala., bid farewell to the Old and saluted the New century of indepen- dence, in handsome style, all business being suspended, the streets and houses streaming with the red, white, and blue ; a salute of thirteen guns was fired at break of day, and of thirty-seven at noon ; a pro- cession of military and fire companies and citizens marched through the streets, and commemorated by a grand banquet at the Westminster Palace Hotel, under the auspices of the American legation, a large and distinguished company of citizens of the United States and their English friends being present. It was a magnifi- cent occasion, worthy of the centennial of the greatest Republic in the world. Toasts to the health of President Grant and Queen Victoria were received with ap- plause and music. The sentiment, ' The Day we Celebrate,' was responded to by Rev. Dr. Thompson ; ' The Mother Coun- try,' by Mr. Henry Richard, M. P. ; ' The City of London,' by the Lord Mayor ; ' The Army and Navy,' by Major-General Crawford ; and ' The newly-appointed Min- ister of the United States,' by Hon Ed- WOMAN'S PAVILION. Ex-Governor Watts delivered an eloquent oration, the reading of the Declaration of Independence being by Neil Blue, the oldest citizen of the place, and the only survivor of those who voted for delegates to the territorial convention that adopted the constitution under which Alabama was admitted as one of the Federal Union. Most significant, it may be remarked, was the respect paid to the occasion in foreign countries ; not only the Americans, in all the European cities, joined in cele- brations, some of them outwardly public and participated in by foreigners, but the daily press everywhere discussed the day and its historical lessons. In Dublin there was a popular gathering, numbering thou- sands, and spirited political addresses. In the city of London, the anniversary was wards Pierrepont. Extracts from Bayard Taylor's national ode, delivered by him the same day in Philadelphia, were read ; and letters in response to invitations were also read from Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, the Duke of Argyle, Earl Granville, Lord Houghton, the Earl of Roseberry, the Earl of Derby, Dean Stanley, John Bright, etc. In Paris, the American legation was superbly decorated with flags and insignia, and the American colors were profusely displayed in the principal streets. In Lisbon, the American ambassador held a public reception, and gave a ban- quet in the evening; several of the city journals also noticed the day, in leading articles complimentary to the American people. 704 CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. — ^=??-*' = 3f THE TCNISIAK TEMT. The Americans residing in Frankfort, Heidelberg, Offenbach, Wiesbaden, and otiier towns in the vicinity, met in the Frankfort Palm Garden, and there joy- ously celebrated the day with speeches, the reading of the immortal Declaration, a superb banquet, and closing with a concert and magnificent fire-works. In Berlin, the day was magnificentlj' celebrated, IMinister Davis presiding, and proposing ' The health of President Grant,' Mr. Fay following with a toast to ' The Emperor of Germany,' and, among others, ' Ameri- can Citizenship,' 'Americans in Europe,' and ' The Day we Celebrate,' — the latter being in verse. In the evening there was a splendid soiree at the American ambas- sador's, followed by tableaux vivants rep- resenting revolutionary scenes, such as Washington at Valley Forge, Antoinette receiving Lafayette, etc. At Stuttgart, there were salutes, speeches, reading of the Declaration, patriotic hymns and songs, and other festivities. Among the incidental matters, of endur- ing interest, pertaining to the day and event, and which are here deserving of rec- ord, may be mentioned the proclamation by the chief magistrate of our nation, in which, with becoming deference to and as reflecting the religious sense of the people, he said : " The centennial anniversary of the day on which the people of the United States declared their right to a separate and equal station among the powers of the earth seems to demand an exceptional observance. The founders of the govern- ment, at its birth, and in its feebleness, invoked the blessings and the protection of a divine Providence, and the thirteen colonies and three millions of people have expanded into a nation of strength and numbers commanding the position that was then asserted, and for which fervent praj'ers were then offered. It seems fit- ting that, on the occurrence of the one hundredth anniversary of our existence as a nation, a grateful acknowledgment be made to Almightj^ God for the protection and the bounties which he has vouchsafed to our beloved countr3'. I therefore invite the good people of the United States, on the approaching Fourth day of July, in ad- dition to the usual observances with which they are accustomed to greet the return of the day, further, in such manner, and at such time as in their respective locali- ties and religious associations may be most convenient, to mark its recurrence by some public religious and devout thanksgiving to Almighty God, for the blessings which have been bestowed upon us as a nation, during the centenary of our existence, and humbly to invoke a contimiance of His favor and of His pro- tection." In response to this, many places of public worship were opened for morning religious devotion. Another most notable incident was an autograph letter from the Emperor Wil- liam, of Germany, to the President, con- veving his imperial congratulations to the latter and to the American people. This remarkable letter was officially presented CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 705 to President Grant, on the morning of July 4th, by the Grerman ambassador in person, and was as follows : — William, hy the grace of God, Emperor of Gerviamj, King of Prussia, etc. To THE President of the United States : — Great and Good Friend, — It has been vouchsafed to you to celebrate the Centennial festival of the day wpon which the great republic over which j-ou preside entered the rank of independent nations. The purposes of its founders have, bj' a wise application of the teach- ings of the history of the foundation of na- tions, and with insight into the distant fu- ture, been realized by a development with- out a parallel. To congratulate you and the American people upon the occasion affords me so much the greater pleasure, because, since the treaty of friendship which my ancestor of glorious memory, King Frederick II., who now rests with God, concluded with the United States, un- disturbed friendship has continually exist- ed between Germany and America, and has been developed and strengthened by the ever-increasing importance of their mutual relations, and b3' an intercourse, becoming more and more fruitful, in every domain of commerce and science. That the wel- fare of the United States, and the friend- ship Ox the two countries, may continue to increase, is my sincere desire and confi- dent hope. Accept the renewed assurance of my unquaiified esteem. William. Countersigned, Vox Bism.aeck. Berlin, June 9, 1876. On account of the great interest in this friendly document from "Fatherland," which was naturally excited among the German population of our country, (now numbering some millions of our most pat- riotic people,) we likewise reproduce the letter in its native language, together with an authorized fac-simile of the Emperor's autograph, also a fine portrait of the vener- able monarch, and an engraving of the new national flag, — none of which features are to l~o found in any other volume pub- lished in the United States. A letter of similar purport, though not- received in season to be delivered to the president on the Fourth, was also sent by the Czar of Russia, also by King Victor Emanuel, of Italy, and from other na- tions. Noteworthy, perhaps, above all the other inspiring incidents of the day, and which wrought up the peojile's patriotic sensibil- ities to the most fervid pitch, was the scene alreadj- briefl}- alluded to on a pre- ceding page, when Mayor Stokley pre- sented to Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, the original Declaration of Independence, — Mr. Lee's grandfather having, one hun- dred years ago, offered the resolution to the Continental Congress, " that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States." On the age-dimmed but immortal parchment being exhibited, in its massive frame, to the sight of the people, men swung their hats, and cheered with almost frantic enthus- iasm ; women waved their handkerchiefs, and in some instances gave audible utter- ances to their transjiort of delight ; chil- dren innumerable were held uj) in the struggling mass of humanity to view the venerated national relic ; and, amidst the wildest expressions of joy on every side, that ascended to and seemed to rend the very he.avens, the sacred document was read. The chord of unitj' and sympathy, full, free, and entire, ran through the vast assemblage, as though no territorial sec- tionalism had ever marred the nation's harmony — or, if it had, that all bj^-gones were now happily buried and obliviated. And, as between North and South, noth- ing could have given more gracious assur- ance of present good will and future promise of amity and accordant purpose, than the message dispatched by the maj-or of the former capital of the Southern Con- federacy, as follows : " The people of Montgomery, Alabama, the birthplace of the Confederate government, through ite City Council, extend a cordial and fraternal greeting to all the people of the United roe CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATION. States, with an earnest prayer for the per- petuation of concord and brotherly feelings throughout the land." And in this spirit the representatives of all sections met together in the city where the Eepuhlic had its birth, and in this spirit, too, the memorable day was ushered in and cel- ebrated wherever floated the ensigns of American nationality ; fraternization, North, South, East, and West, was uni- versal ; all hearts united in the ascription of " Glory to God in the highest," for the Past ; and deep answered unto deep, in the gladsome acclaim 1^. I LXXXIV. ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD, IN AYASH- INGTON, JULY 2, ISSl. His Departure from the White House, on that Day, with Secretary Blaine, on a Brief Tear of Recreation — Excellent Health. Spirits, and Happy Anticipations. — Arrival at the Depot. — A Lurking Assassin, C. J. Guiteau, Approaches in the Rear. — A Startling but Harmless Shot, followed by Another which Enters the Body. — The President Sinks to the floor. — A Hideous Tragedy.— Capture of the Murderer ; his Character and Utterances. — The Wounded Victim Conveyed in an Ambulance to the Executive Mansion.— The Nation Horrified, and the Whole Civilized World Shocked. — Condolences from tlie Remotest Courts and Governments. — Unaffected Sympathy from all Political Parties.— Past Differences Hushed and Forgotten. — Eleven Weeks of Suffering. — Heroism and Resignation of the Patient. — Devotion and Fortitude of the President's Wife.— Removal to Long Branch, X. J.— Temporary Relief, — Hovering between Life and Death.— Solemn Prayers for his Recovery. — Sudden and Fatal End of the Struggle. — A Pall over Four Continents. — Tributes from Sovereigns and Peoples the World Over. — The Wail and Lamentation of Mankind. — Funeral Procession and Ceremonies.— Queen Victoria's Floral Offering on the Bier— At Rest, in Lake View Cemetery, Cleveland, Ohio. * The path of glory leade but to the grave." I^ the fourth of March. 1881, James A. Gar- field, of Ohio, was in- augurated President of the ^° United States, to which high ■C'^ office he had been elected by the popular vote of his coun- trymen. Long a citizen of Mentor, Ohio, he had for many years repre- sented his district in the halls of Congress, and now, taking his departure from one of the most attractive homes and delightful com- munities on the last day of February, to assume his duties as chief magis- trate of fifty millions of people, he thus affectingly addressed himself, to his friends and neighbors, — words which now are treasured, as a legacy most tender and revered, by those whose good fortune it was to be presen" : — " You have come from your homes ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 709 -v>^iyArp'>' 'It" i-KK-U'Exi — than which no happier are known in ' tliis country — from this beautiful lake- side, full of all that makes a country life happj', to give me 3-our blessing and fare- well. You do not know how much I leave behind me of friendship and confidence and home-like happiness ; but I know I am indebted to this whole people for acts of kindness, of neighborly friendship, of polit- ical trust, of public support, that few men have ever enjoyed at the hands of any peo- ple. You are a part of this great community of northern Ohio which for so many years has had no political desire but the good of the country, no wish but the promotion of liberty and justice, — has had no scheme but the building up of all that was worthy and true in our republic. If I were to search over all the world, I could not find a better model of political spirit, df aspirations for the true and right, than I have found in this community, during the eighteen years its people have honored me with their con- fidence. I thank the citizens of the county for their kindness, and especially my neigh- bors of Mentor, who have demanded so little of me and have done so much to make my home a refuge and a joy. What 710 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. awaits me I cannot now speak of, but I sball carry to the discharge of the duties that lie before me, to the problems and dangers I may meet, a sense of your con- fidence and love, which will always be answered by my gratitude. Neighbors, friends, and constituents, Farewell ! " Four days after this cheery yet half pathetic adieu, the veteran statesman ;ind brave soldier stood with uncovered head, in the presence of a vast and brilliant mul- titude beneath the dome of the nation's capitol, and there, with hand upraised, and and there had lately been arranged, in connection with this visit to Willjamstown. a somewhat extended trip through Ver- mont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, in which he was to be accompanied by Mrs. Garfield and two or three of their children, several members of the cabinet, with their wives, and other particular friends. All the arrangements for this joj'ous pleasure trip had been carefully completed, and every one of the party was anticijjating a delightful ten days' jaunt. Those who were to start from Washington HO.ME OF PRESIDENT GA reverently kissing the Uible, took solemn oath, as President of the United States, to preserve, protect and defend the Consti- tution thereof. The cares, harassments and contests of this high office, mingled with family affliction, thronged in full measure upon him, and it was not until the burning sun of Jul}' rendered eyish- ence fairly uncomfortable that he sougiit change and relief. For some time past, he had cherished the expectation of being present at the com- mencement exercises of his alma mater, Williams College, in Williamstown, Mass., Kl'lELD, MEKTOR, (JUM. were to take a special car attached to the limited express train for New York, at half-past nine o'clock, Saturday morning. They were to be joined at New York by Mrs. Garfield and two or three others of the president's family, who had been so- journing at Long Branch, N. J, on account of Mrs. Garfield's ill health, from which, however, she was happily recovering. The president had looked forward to this trip with eagerness and delight, and in view of it had been in the best of spirits, notwith- standing the political infelicities which beset him. The night before, he and Sec- ASSASSINATION^ OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 711 MRS. G.iKFIELD. retary Blaine had been engaged together, until a late hour, in conference upon public business. The president, nevertheless, arose early the next morning, and, after finishing up some executive business, break- fasted with his son, and gave final direc- tions to the private secretary, who was to remain at his usual post. He took a carriage with Secretary Blaine, to drive to the station of the Baltimore and Potomac railroad, corner of Sixth and B streets, just off Penns3dvania avenue. They drove to the B street entrance, which admits chiefly to the ladies' room, a pleas- ant carpeted apartment, furnished with fixed wooden settees, so arranged as to leave a broad passage way directly from the outer door to the opposite side of the room. Two doors open from the side of the room opposite the outer door into the large waiting room for gentle- men, and it was necessary to pass around the ends of the benches, either to the right or left, to reach one of these doors. In the ladies' room there had been ob- served a nervous, short, thick-set man, restless in his movements, passing back and forth, — his conduct striking enough to attract the attention of the woman in charge. George, the well-known colored coachman of the distinguished party, drove to the steps, and the door of the coach was opened. The president was not in any hurry to get out. A porter took the lug. gage through the room. The president, seeing a depot official near by, asked him how much time he had before the train left. " You have ten minutes, sir," was the replj. The president made no haste to leave the carriage, but sat talking with Secretary Blaine, in the most informal and chatty way. They did not expect to see one another for some weeks, for it was Mr. 712 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. Blaine's purpose to go to his home in Maine, in a day or two, for a prolonged stay. The president stepped from the carriage, Mr. Blaine after him, and, as he stood there, he lifted his hat to a lady ; his physical health seemed so robust as to cause the lady to speak of it to her husband. The president entered the depot, Mr. Blaine with him, and was passing along the aisle leading from the door to the inner or large waiting room. Suddenly there was a report, — seemingly like that of one of the larger fire-crackers in such common use durino; Fourth-of-July week. The president himself exhibited no apprehen- sion, not even paj'ing the slightest heed to the sound, — had he done so, had he turned, he might possibly have seen the assassin, who stood there, cool and quiet, not more than three feet behind him, with a revolver pointed at his back. Neither did Mr. Blaine manifest any uneasiness, — • in fact, though people were moving pro- miscuously around, and within arm's reach of the assassin, no one seemed to suspect that murder was about to be committed. Jt was ill an instant. The reports were only such a time apart as sufficed for the re-cocking of the revolver. At the second one, the president stopped, turned, saw the assassin standing there with the ready revolver, and for an instant he and his murderer were face to face. Then the president reeled. He fainted not to un- consciousness but to weaknesi=, and even before he was well caught he fell to the floor, striking the bench as he did so. Tliere was terror at once. The secretary of state seemed instantly to realize what had happened and what its consequences were. He sliouted for help He called "Rockwell, Rockwell, where is Rockwell ? " Then he turned, and seemed to be about to make for the assassin, but the latter was already in the firm grasp of others. Then the secretary of state knelt down beside the president, though already tender hands had raised and were supporting Mr. Gar- field's head. Mrs. Smith, the lady in charge of the room, iu au instant was at his side ; she had even, iu the brief time that was necessary for her to reach him, given orders that water be brought at once. Kneeling there beside him, she raised his head, placed it in her lap, and bathed his face. The president uttered no sound, and said not a word, but when his son Harry, who was to accompany him on the trip, came running back from the outer platform and saw his father, who but a moment ago he had left in such splendid health and vigor, and now pros- trate, with half closed eyes and bloodless brow, he bent down to his father's form, and recognition and a whisper followed ; the jjresident's e^yes closed again, and his son cried piteously. It was for the moment impossible to say how or where the president had been wounded. It was enough to know that he had received such a wound as required instant medical attendance. The depot was at once thronged. People stood around him, standing tiptoe behind each other, so that not only the president, but his attend- ants, suffered greatly for the lack of air. The building was cleared, and a mattress was brought. The president was tenderlj' lifted and placed upon it, still uttering no sound, and was borne to the superintend- ent's room. Secretaries Windom, James, and Lin oln wore by the president's side immediately after the shooting. The for- mer, bending gently over the president, inquired of him where he was wounded. The president's first thought seems to have been of his wife, saying — " Go and telegraph my wife that I am hurt, and ask her, if she feels able, to come on to Washington at once." The secretary of war, to whom a scene like this was the second in his experi- ence, — the first being that of his own fatlier, President Lincoln, — gave hurried directions for the calling out of the mili- tary, and also for the procuring of medica? attendance. It was at his orders that the galloping horsemen and the flj'ing coach- men came with such furious pace down ] the avenue. They sjseedily returned with ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 713 a pliysicirm, Dr. Bliss, others also arriving almost simultaneously. At the first glanci', Dr. Bliss said, " This is an ugly wound," and Dr. Townsend in a few whispered words, expressed his view of the case to Dr. Bliss. It was deemed altogether desirable that the wounded man should be taken to his own house, and an ambulance was speed- ily brought to the door, and, as soon as the smooth pavement of the avenue was reached, the horses were put to the run, and within an hour of the shooting the president was lying on his own bed, in an upper I hamber of the executive mansion. He complained of pain in his feet more than in his arm or body, and at his own re- quest his feet were undressed and rubbed. The doctors cut awaj' Iiis clothing to get at his wound ; but, though the doctor probed the wound with his finger, he could not make out with any certainty what direction the ball had taken, nor where it was lodged. He vomited profuselj', which was taken as a sign that he was wounded in a mortal part. Meantime, the assassin, who had been promptly secured before he could leave the station, was rapidly driven to police headquarters, and when it became doubt- ful, as it almost immediately did, whether he could be protected from the vengeance of the frenzied populace, he was placed in a carriage and driven to the jail, in the extreme easterly portion of the city. He proved to be Charles J. Guiteau, a shiftless fellow of middle age, sometimes living in one place and sometimes another, obtain- ing an uncertain support by assuming now to be a law3'er, and again lecturer, author, politician, and who had sought to obtain office under government, but un- successfully, — a man shunned by all who knew him well, for his various imposi- tions and general worthlessness. He sim- ply turned, after he saw the president fall, and, evidently expecting arrest, uncon- cernedly delivered up his pistol. From his pocket-book was taken the following letter, dated Jul^' 2 : " To THE White House : — The President's tragic death was a sad necessity, but it will unite the republican party and save the republic. Life is a flimsy dream, and it matters little when one goes A human life is of small value. During the war thousands of brave boys went down without a tear. I presume that the President was a Christian, and that he will be happier in Paradise than here. It will be no worse for Mrs. Gar- Held, dear soul, to part with her husband in this way than by natural death. He is liable to go at any time, any way. I had no ill will towards the President. His death was a political necessity. I am a lawyer, a theologian, and a politician ; I am a stalwart of the stalwarts ; I was with General Grant and the rest of our men in New York during the canvass. I have some papers for the press, which I ; jl! leave with Byron Andrews and his co- journalists at 1402 New York avenue, where all the reporters can see them. I am going to jail." The wretch exulted in his act, and, on some one asking another, in his hearing, " "What did the president do when the shot was fired," Guiteau said, " I'll show you," and, throwing up his right elbow and his hand hanging, re- marked, " That's the way he did, when the shot got him — he sort of turned aid looked scared." He would inquire of his keepers, as to the president's condition ; when the answer was " better," he would look despondent, but, if told his victim was worse, he would smile. And who was the vl.tim of this viper in human form, at whose ghastly deed the whole civilized world stood horrified and shocked, — the remotest courts and govern- ments pouring in their condolences, — and all party differences hushed and oblivi- ated ? He may be well called a representative product of our country — its institutions and opportunities. Born in Orange, Cuy- ahoga County, 0., in 1831, his father died when James was about two years old, and his boyhood and early manhood presented 114 ASSASSINATION 0¥ PRESIDENT GARFIELD. MRS. ELIZA II. ;.\ltFIELD. a tough, hand to hand struggle with pov- erty, as he fought for an education, aiding meanwhile, his " saintly mother," as he was accustomed to call her, and for whom his love seemed boundless. Like Lincoln, he was in his boyhood employed as a canal driver and wood chopper. But the in- stinct for an education was strong with him, and an attack of ague having inter- rupted the flow of his canal life, he de- cided to go to a school called Geauga Academy, in an adjoining county. Start- ing with but seventeen dollars in money, he worked his own way through the insti- tution at Hiram, Portage County, Ohio, and at the age of twentj'-three entered the junior class of Williams College, Mass., and graduated in 1S56, with scholastic honors. After this, he was called to teach Latin and Greek at the Hiram institution, and one year later was made president of the same. While officiating there, Mr. Garfield married Miss Lucretia Rudolph, herself a teacher, and daughter of a worthy citizen in the neighborhood. In 1869, Mr. Garfield was elected to the state sen- ate ; but when the war broke out, he was appointed Colonel of the Forty-second Ohio regiment, and went to the front in eastern Kentucky. His army record, including the defeat of Humphrey Marshall's forces, participation in the reduction of Pittsburg Landing, at the siege of Corinth, in the operations along the Memphis and Charles- ton railroad, and as chief of staff of the Army of the Cumberland, was a heroic one — rapidly raising him to the rank of Major General, to which he was promoted for gallantry at Chickamauga. In 1862, he was nominated to congress, and ac- ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 715 cepted because he supposed, in common with many others, that the war would be substantially over by the time he would be called to take his seat. His congressional record is one of great force and ability, and includes the chairmanship of the house committee on military affairs, and of the appropriation committee, and, later, he be- came the acknowledged leader of his party in the house. At the close of Mr. Thur- nian's term as senator from Ohio, Mr. Gar- field was chosen to succeed him. Before the time arrived, however, for him to take his seat in that august body, the presiden- tial nominating convention assembled in Chicago, resulting in the selection, after many ballotings, of James Abram Gar- field, and to this office — the highest elec- tive position in the world — he was chosen by bis countrymen, in November, 1880. In person, Mr. Garfield stood six feet high, was broad shouldered and squarely built, and had an unusually large head, three-fourths of which seemed to be fore- head ; his hair and beard were light brown, large light blue eyes, a prominent nose, and full cheeks. He dressed plainly, wore a broad-brim slouch hat and stout boots, cared little for luxurious living, was sober though not abstinent in all things, and was devoted to his wife, children and home. He was a religious man as well as youth, having early connected himself with the body known as the Disciples of Christ, so numerous in the middle and western States, but having only one place of wor- ship in Washington, — the humble build- ing on Vermont Avenue, — where Mr. Gar- field attended. Soon as possible, by means of telegraph, the president's message to his wife reached her at Elberon, Long Branch, where she was stopping. Her grief was past expres- sion. A second dispatch, saj'ing that her husband would recover, dispelled her fears somewhat, and she soon after started with her family, on a special train. Though weak from her recent illness and the shock of the assassination, Mrs. Garfield showed wonderful courage and self-control, after her arrival in Washington. She took her place at her husband's bedside, encourag- ing him with her presence and sympathy, and g ving all the aid she could to the attending physicians and nurses, continu- ing this devotednesi — even when others' hopes and strength failed, to the end of the sad, sad struggle. To the venerable mother of the presi- dent, the fearful tidings gave a great shock. " We have heard that James is hurt," said her daughter, Mrs. Larabee. " How ; by the cars ? " asked the mother. " No, he was shot by an assassin, but he was not killed." " The Lord help me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Garfield. She afterwards dictated a dispatch to the family at Wash- ington, saying : " The news was broken to me this morning and shocked me very much. Since receiving your telegram, I feel much more hopeful. Tell James that I hear he's cheerful, and I am glad of it. Tell him to keep in good spirits, and ac- cept the love and sj'mpathy of mother, sisters, and friends. — Eliza Garfield." Bended with years and sorrow, the tender est sympathy was universally felt for the venerable and afflicted woman. And now around the bedside of the suf- fering president clustered the watchful and anxious sympathies of fifty millions of people — aye, and of all the nations of the world. The fate of the president de- pended on one distressing wound, the ball having entered his body at the back, on the right, in the neighborhood of the elev- enth rib, and necessarily involving in its course the vital parts. Eminent physi- cians, — Drs. Bliss, Barnes, Woodward, Rey- burn, Agnew and Hamilton — had charge of the case, and bulletins were issued several times daily. The president's mind contin- ued clear, and he early informed Dr. Bliss that he desired to be kept accurately informed about his condition. " Conceal nothing from me, doctor," said he, "for you know I am not afraid to die." In the course of the day, when the indications pointed to his dissolution, the president asked what the prospects were. He said, 716 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. " Are they Lad, doctor ; don't be afraid to tell me frankly. I am ready for the worst." " Mr. President," replied Dr. Bliss, " your condition is extremely crit- ical. I do not think you can live many hours." '' God's will be done, doctor, I am ready to go, if my time has come," was the firm resjsonse. About the time he began to rally, he said, "Doctor, what are now the indications ? " Dr. Bliss said, '' There is a chance of recovery." " Well, then," replied the president cheerfully, seemed favorable, this joy and hope were changed to sadness, at the relapses that followed. The malarial influences pertain- ing 10 the situation of the White House, in the hot summer season, were considered a most serious drawback, and this, in con- nection with various alarming symptoms that continued to develop themselves, to- gether with the president's urgent desire for a change of air and location, led to the plan of removing him to Long Branch, N. J. Offers were at once made by the IJE. FRANK H. HAMILTON. DK. D. W. ULISS. " we will take that chance." In a similar strain of calmness, resignation, and often- times of pleasautrj', did he converse with his other physicians, also with his faithful nurse, Mrs. Edson, and with his warmly attached personal friends, Messrs. Swaim and Rockwell. All that human love and skill could do was done, for manj' weeks, to relieve, com- fort, and restore the distinguished patient ; but, as often as the great public heart was made to swell with joy, when the prospect owners of residences at that beautiful and healthy sea-shore resort, of the free use of their houses, and that of Mr. Francklyn, an English gentleman of wealth and public spirit, was finally accepted. The removal was made on the sixth of September, by a special train. The jour- ney was accomplished without the slight- est trouble, so ample and perfect were the arrangements for the purpose. The appli- ances were so complete, that all trouble from the jarring of the train or rattle of ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 717 passing the bridges was avoided. The heat was the worst element. No trains were in motion at the time of the passing of the Nation's Special. There was uni- versal turning out at all stations, great and small ; doors of farm houses were crowded ; and workmen in fields and from factories, along the whole line, stood watch- ing for the train, and reverently uncovered as it passed. The speed was great, and the president constantly urged greater,— he rode so easily, and felt so strongly the im- portance of saving time, and thus husband- ing his little strength. At Trenton, where it was decided to dress the wound, he said, " Gentlemen, progress seems more important to me," so it was allowed to go behalf, that when Mr. Warren Young passed along the room with some mail matter, the president seeing him held out his hand, remarking, " Warren, don't you think I look better to day ? " To which Mr. Young responded in the affirmative ; and, continuing, the president added with emphasis, " and I feel better — this is good air." The fluctuations of gain and loss, how- ever, which had characterized the case from the beginning, still continued, not- withstanding the buoj-ancy of spirits ex- hibited alike b^' the physicians, the pub- lic, and the patient himself. He had even been allowed to leave his bed for a reclin- ing chair, from which he might have a FR.INCKLYN COTTAGE, ELBEKOX, >". .1. until he arrived. Two miles were run. by close count, by several watches, in fifty- five seconds, and the average run, includ- ing stops, was over fifty-five miles an hour. At the time of arrival the heat was in- tense — intense throughout the country, — but when this passed, and the fresh sea breeze set in, the president enjoyed it to the utmost, and the benefit to his health Feemed so encouraging that the bulletins were diminished in frequency, the mem- bers of the cabinet went off in pursuit of recreation, and the governors of the sev- eral States united in recommending a day of solemn prayer to God for his continued improvement and complete recovery. So marked was the apparent change in his window view of the ocean ; the chair was inclined at an angle of a little more than twenty degrees, and the president lny upon it with his head slightly more elevated than it was upon the bed. The change was so refreshing that he asked to have it repeated the following day, which was done. On being placed in the chair and wheeled over to the window, where he could look out upon the ocean, he ex- claimed, " This is good. I like this. I think I ought to have been taken here three weeks ago." The remarkable com- plications of the case continued, however, to assert themselves, none of these being more discouraging, perhaps, than the later rigors and fevers, with the accompanying 718 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. extreme exhaustion and incapacity for food. It was thought, however, that these troubles might be overcome, and no alarm or anxiety was excited beyond what the case had oftentimes created from the first. Things thus continued until the nineteenth of September, — the night, as it happened, when his old companion in arms, General Snaim, was to watch with Iiim. He had been with the sufferer a good deal of the time from three o'clock in the after- noon. A few minutes before ten o'clock in the evening, he left Col. Rockwell, with whom he had been talking for some min- utes in the lower hall, and joroceeded up- stairs to the president's room. On enter- ing, Gen. Swaim found Mrs. Garfield sitting by the bedside. There were no other persons in the room. He said to her, " How is everything going ? "' She replied, " He is sleeping nicely." He then said, " I think you would better go to bed and rest," and asked her what had been prescribed for him to take during the night. She replied that she did not know : that she had given him milk jjunch at eight o'clock. The general then said, " If you will wait a moment, I will go ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 719 into the doctor's room, and see what is to be given during the night." " There is," Mrs. Garfield replied, " beef tea clown stairs. Daniel knows where to get it." "I then Went," — General Swaim relates, — "into the doctor's room. I found Dr. Bliss there, and asked him what was to be given during the night. He answered, 'I think I would better fix up a list, and will bring it in to you pretty soon.' I then went back into the sick room, and had some little conversation with Mrs. Garfield. She felt the president's hand, and laid her hand on his forehead, saying, ' He seems to be in good condition,' and passed out of the room. I immediately felt his hands, feet and knees. I thought that his knees seemed somewhat cohl, and got a flannel cloth, heated it at the fire, and laid it over liis limbs. I also heated another cloth, and laid it over his right hand, and then sat down in a chair beside his bed. I was scarcely seated, when Dr. Boynton came in and felt the president's pulse. I asked him how it seemed to him. ' It is not as strong as it was this afternoon, but very good.' I said, ' He seems to be doing well.' ' Yes,' he answered, and passed out. He was not in the room more than two minutes. Shortly after this, the pres- ident awoke. As he turned his head on awaking, I rose, and took hold of his hand. I was on the left hand side of the bed, as he lay. I remarked, ' You have had a very comfortable sleep.' He said, 'Oh, Swaim; this terrible pain,^ placing his right hand on his breast, over the region of the heart. I asked him if I could do anything for him. He said, ' Some water.' i [ went to the other side of the room, and poured out about an ounce and a half of Poland water into a glass, and gave him to drink ; he took the glass in his hand, I raising his head as usual, and he drank the water very naturally. I then handed the glass to the colored man, Daniel, who came in during the time I was getting the water. Afterward I took a napkin, and wiped his forehead, as he usuallj' perspired on awaking. He then said, ' Oh, Swaim, this terrible pain ! Press your hand on it.' I laid my hand on his chest. He then threw both hands up to the side and about on a line with his head, and ex- claimed, ' Oh, Swaim, can't you stop this ?' and again, ' Oh, Swaim ! ' " It was at this stage, says General Swaim, that the president looked at him with a staring expression. "I asked him if he was suffering much pain. Receiving no answer, I repeated the question, with like result. I then concluded that he was either d^'ing, or was having a severe spasm, and called to Daniel, who was at the door, to tell Dr. Bliss and Mrs. Garfield to come in immediatelj', and glanced at the small clock hanging on the chandelier nearly over the foot of his bed, and saw that it was ten minutes after ten o'clock. Dr. Bliss came in within two or three minutes. I told Daniel to bring the light — a lighted candle behind a screen near the door. When the light shone full on his face, I saw that he was dj'ing. When Dr, Bliss came in a moment after, I said, 'Doc- tor, have you any stimulant — he seems to be dying.' He took hold of his wrist, as if feeling for the pulse, and said, 'Tes, he is dying! ' I then said to Daniel, * Run, and arouse the house.' At that moment. Colonel Rockwell came in, when Dr. Bliss said, ' Let us rub his limbs,' which we did. In a very few moments, Mrs. Garfield came in, and said, ' What does this mean ? ' and a moment after exclaimed, ' Oh, why am I made to suffer this cruel wrong ! ' At half-past ten, in the evening, he breathed liis last, calmly and peacefully." At the final moment, the following per- sons were present: Mrs. Garfield and her daughter Moilie, Drs. Bliss, Agnew, and Boynton, General Swaim, Colonel and Mrs. Rockwell, J. Stanley Brown, C. 0. Rockwell, and Daniel Spriggs. Dr. Bliss acknowledged that the president's death was a complete surprise to him. Before leav- ing his patient, to write out the directions of the night, for the watchers, the doctor inquired of the president how he felt, and the reply was in his usual cheerful tone, ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GAEFIELD. 721 " Pretty welir On reaching the room, after Genenil Swaim's summons, Dr. Bliss found the president unconscious ; he placed his ear o^er ihe region of the heart and could only detect a faint flutter, — pulse he had none. Some hj-podermic injections of brandy were given in the region of the heart, but without effect. He was lying ■ 111 his back, with his head thrown back- wards, and there was not a tremor or move- ment of the body. The effort with which Mrs. Garfield controlled her feelings was seen in the fixed lines of the face, as she arose and went from the room. At the door of her chamber, she broke quite down for the first time ; she sobbed aloud, and in her first burst of grief shut herself alone in her chamber. She remained thus alone, for perhaps three minutes, and what new strength she got in brief communion with God, was seen in her brave and resolute face, as she came back to the bed where her dead husband lay. The doctors, with womanly gentleness, had closed the eye- lids and composed the limbs. Mrs. Gar- field sat down by the bed. There she re- mained several hours. The tidings of the president's death fell like a pall on the land, and, in sympathy and grief, the whole world was kin. Rulers and governments from the farthermost parts of the earth made haste to send messages of profoundest sorrow. A sam- ple of this tender friendship, as it flowed in upon the stricken republic from distant realms, was the following from Queen Victoria : " Would you express my sincere condolence to the late president's mother and inquire after her health, as well as af- ter Mrs. Garfield's. I should be thankful if you would procure me a good photograph of General Garfield." The bells of the English cathedrals were tolled, the Eng- lish court went into mourning, and the Queen directed that a floral wreath be pre- pared as an offering from her own hands for the funeral bier. Throughout our own country, business was suspended ; the courts adjourned ; the theaters were closed ; the public buildings, the dwellings and stores 46 were draped in mourning ; the bells were tolled ; flags hung at half-mast ; — lamenta- tion and woe were on every hand. Oq Wednesday following, the remains, of which a careful autopsy had been made, revealing the fact that " surgery has no resources by which the fatal result could have been averted," were borne out from Francklyn cottage, to begin its last solemn journey. Adorned by a single cross of flowers, the casket was placed in the car prepared for its reception, and, surrounded by a military and naval guard, and accom- panied by the bereaved family and attend- ing friends, the train departed for Wash- ington and Cleveland. The entire route was lined, as it were, by mourners raising their hats and maintaining an awed silence. At Ocean Grove, thousands of people watched it pass, the bells tolling solemnly meanwhile ; at Monmouth Junction, a delegation of students from Princeton College met the train, and, on its reach- ing Princeton Junction, five hundred of the young men stood in files on the sides of the track, which had been strewn with flowers ; at Wilmington, Del., as many as ten thousand paid their tribute of silent respect ; and so on, from point to point. At Washington four entire days were devoted to grief and funeral rites. Na- tional homage and ceremonial appeared to center here. The great point of interest was the Rotunda of the capitol, where the body lay in state. In the center was placed the catafalque, about three feet above the flo»r. It is the same one that held the casket encasing the remains of Abraham Lincoln. Its lower platform was covered with perfectly black Brussels carpet, and the trimmings were of heavy black corded silk, silk fringe and tassels, silver moldings, etc. Of the floral decorations of the cata- falque, most noticeable was a broken column of Marshal Neil white roses, about three feet high, surmounted by a white dove with wings outspread ; next came a beaute- ous design, representing the Gates Ajar, the columns being of similar white roses, the bars of the gate of variegated white 722 ASSASSINATION OF PKESIDENT GARFIELD. UODV LYING IX STATK IX THE CAPITOL ItOTrXDA. ana green, and tlie gate posts surmounted by globus of immortelles. Next to this was a crown of white ro-e-buds, the points being tipped with fern. Be3-ond this was a bank of white flowers, from which sprang a column, and on tliis penhed a white (love; the words, "Our martvred Presi- dent," appeared in green, upon the white bank. At each end of the floral display was a wreath of ivy leaves lying on the floor. But conspicuous above all, was the massive and magnificent wreath, composed of white roses, smilax and stephanotis, — the most beautiful ever seen in Washing- ton, — from the queen of England The interior of the rotunda was hung in black, and both rotunda and dome were lustrously illuminated. Tens of thousands thronged the capitol, day and night, to view the face of the beloved president. This was only interrupted by the announcement of Mrs. Garfield's coming to take her final look of the precious countenance. All sounds were instantly hushed, every one withdrew, and then the stricken widow — her slight form wrapped in deepest mourning, and leaving her attendants at the door — ad- vanced alone to take her last and tearful farewell look ; and here, in the solitude and sacredness of her grief, she remained some fifteen minutes. Simple, like the religious services before the departure from Elberon, and in keeping with the Christian simplicity of character which always distinguished Mr. Garfield, were the funeral exercises in the capitol. Rev Mr. Power, the late president's pastor, officiated. The Philharmonic Society of ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 723 Washington rendered some impressive selections, including the anthem, " To Thee, Lord, I yield my Spirit ;'' prayer and eulogy followed ; and the remains were then conducted to the hearse. An immense funeral escort, of surpassing mag- nificence and solemnity, accompanied the funeral car to the train which was to convey the same and the mourning party to Cleveland, — the car containing the body being open at the side, so as to admit of the casket being seen along the journey. On Saturdaj' morning the train was met at the Ohio state line by the governor and other officials, including the city govern- ment of Cleveland ; in which city, on Mondaj', Sept. 26th, the mortal part of the dead president was to be consigned to its last resting-place, — a day which was also observed, in accordance with appoint- ment by President Arthur and by many of the governors of the States, as a day of humiliation and prayer. The day was indeed one of stillness and worship and funereal observance from one end of the land to the other. Abroad, too, the occa- sion was seriously commemorated. In London, stores were closed and buildings draped ; the fleet of vessels in the Thames displayed its flags at half mast ; the royal palaces indicated bereavement ; portraits of President Garfield hung in black abounded ; funeral dirges were played at St. James' palace ; devotional services were held in Westminster Abbey and other churches ; and the tolling of bells was universal. In Paris. Berlin, Geneva, Mad- rid, Constantinople, Cairo, and even in India, there was observance of the day and svent of America's woe. The city of Cleveland, Ohio, embraces the beautiful Lake View Cemetery — a few miles from the president's former home — in which, in accordance with his expressed wish, he was to be buried. Here, a special pavilion was constructed for the reception of the coffin, forty-four feet square at the base, and spanned by arches thirty-six feet Irigh and twenty-four feet wide ; the inte- rior was beautified with rare plants and I flowers. Here rested the catafalque, stand- ing with its four open arche.*? and sur- moun'ed by its massive golden ball, with a cannon resting on each of its four corners, heavily draped in black ; large, black flags drooped from each side immediately be- neath the cornice, and still lower fell the national colors, with streamers of crape alternating with the bars of red and white ; an elegant shield, several feet in length, composed of swords, had a con.spicuous place on the octagonal faces of the four sides, and, half circling the arches, were choice ferns upon a white background- arranged in triangular shape, also a heavy gold lining running around the pillars, the interior was draped in plain and appropri- ate bands of rich black goods. On this memorable Mondaj', the weather broke calm and Helightful, and the great lake, beside which Cleveland rests, laj' placid atjd beautiful. At an early hour the whole city was in motion, everybody' mov- ing towards the park, where the procession was to form and the funeral ceremonies take place. Multitudes poured in from every section, and by ten o'clock 200,000 people had gathered around the .square. At the time appointed, the dignitaries of the governitient, including ever\' depart- ment, civil and military, marched upon the platform, each wearing a heavy black mourning scarf, with black and white rosettes upon the breast, the whole com- posing the Guard of Honor, headed b^ General Sherman. In due time, the bereaved family were driven to the pavilion. Among the first to alight was the venerable mother of the martyred chieftain, — the poor, wasted form of the dear woman being helped from her carriage, and conducted slowly up the in- cline that led to the princely bier upon which rested the form of her idolized son. Unmindful of surrounding objects, and with her whole mind engrossed in grief, she sat down in silence in the seat provided for her ; but her pent-up feelings could not be repressed, and she shortly moved ovei to the coffin, and, leaning upon it, laid her cheek upon the cover, her lips moving in 724 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. silent prayer, and the tears coursing adown lier wrinkled and weary-worn face. Others wept in sympathy, and she was tenderly led back to her seat. Scripture reading, prayers, a eulogj- by Rev. Dr. Errett, and solemn music, made up the funeral ceremonies, one of the hymns sung being the president's favorite, commencing with the words, " Ho, reapers of life's harvest ! " The casket was borne on the shoulders of ten United States ar- tillerymen from the pavilion to the funeral car, and. leaving the park, the grand pro- cession passed out Superior street and Euclid avenue, to the entrance of the cem- etery. The sidewalks were crowded with people, and refreshments were freely dis- tributed by the citizens to the civil and military visitors. When the head of the column reached the black arch which fronted the cemetery, the ranks were opened, and the body of the dead presi- dent, borne upon the funeral car, passed in between the long ranks of civilians and soldiers. Upon the piers of the arch were the inscrip- tions — "Lay him to sleej) whom we have learned to love," — " Laj'^ him to sleep whom we have learned tn trust," — " Come to rest " The coffin was wrapped in triple folds of fine crape and a huge flag, and those specially deputed to walk beside the hearse wore white helmets and carried drawn swords. Tlie procession was two ■I VIEWIXG THE UEMAINS AT CLEVEL.VXP, OHIO. ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 725 lours in passing a given and one-half point. At the receiving vault there was a cata- falque placed in the center, and draped flags were hung at each side. At the head was suspended a superb wreath sent to Mrs. Garfield by the ladies of Dubuque, and another sent at the instance of the tmperor of Brazil ; the floor was covered with sprays of evergreen, upon which were strewn flowers in great profusion. Out- er two later Harry and James got out. Neither Mrs. Garfield nor the president's mother left the carriage, but both of thorn threw back their veils, and gazed long at the sight within the vault. General Swaini, Colonel Corbin and Colonel Rockwell, and a few others of the close family friends, left their seats, and ex-president Hayes. Mr. Evarts and Secretaries Blaine and Windom, were near the tomb As the coffin was placed on the catafalque in the KCCEIMNC. VAULT. side, a carpet IkuI been laid to the carriage way, which was covered with a black can- opy ; this carpet was also strewn with flowers, while around were scattered im- mortelles and other flowers. It was about half past three o'clock when the funeral car came down to the .south of the vault, and was halted just be- yond it. Mrs. Garfield's carriage stopped just in front of the vault, and a moment vault, the marine band played the familiar strains of "Nearer, my God, to Thee." The closing services were then performed, consisting of music by the marine band, an address by Rev. Dr. Jones, chaplain of the president's old regiment, singing by one of the musical societies, and benedic- tion by Rev. Dr. Hinsdale. Secretary Blaine and the president's sons entered the vault. Other prominent persons crowded 726 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. i,\KE vinw ( i:Mi;rEiiV. forward to gather the scattered flowers as mementos, and before the procession left all the flowers beneath the canopy had been secured. The family carriages then started in return, followed by the other vehicles containing the Cabinet and the Guard of Honor. Of the cemeterj', it may be said that few locations of the kind surpass this in im- jiressive beauty. The driveway from the entrance to the tomb in which Presidi'nt Garfield's remains were deposited, until tlie erection of the monument, is very broad, and, directly opposite the tomb, the main avenue leading to the remotest parts of the grounds begins, crossing soon a lovely lake, on the other side of which the road rises gradually to the crest of a ridge quite elevated above the lake. From this ridge a bald, rounded spur juts out toward the lake, on the right. The top of this spur is irregular shaped, and flat, with a narrow path all around. This is the spot — long reserved as the most beautiful in the whole grounds — presented by the trustees of the cemetery to Mrs. Garfield, as the burial place for her husband, and accepted by her for tliat purpose. WREATH I'KESEXTED DV QL'EES VICTORIA. INDEX. A. AcriDEXTAL discovery of gold in California, 364. -of the microphone by Edison, 087. ACCOMPLICES of John Wilkes Booth, the assjissin of Pres. Lincoln, the trials and fates of the, 627. Achievements of Admiral Farragut, 5Hy. Acknowledgment of the independence of the United States by foreign powers, 31. Adams, John, speech of, upon the declaration of inde- pendence, 2G. — his nomination of Washington as commander, G4. — appointment of, first minister to England, 70. — audience with George 111, his account of his, 74. — his eloquent presentation of the American cause, 75. — result of the embassy to England of, 75. — John Quiucy, his struggle for the right of petition in congress, 252. — — his death in the national capital, 262. Admiral Farraout's achievements at New Orleans in 1HG2, 590. his gallant action in IMobile bay, 592. Adoption of the federal constitution by the states, S3. ADVENT, Second, the excitement of lf<4S, as to the, 307. Adventures of Fremont in the Kocky Mountains, 280. Advocacy of the Union cause in England, Henry Ward Beecher's, 573. After the battle of Antietam, appalling sights, 540. — the earthquake, scene, 150. Agricultural Hall, at the centennial exhibition, 695. Alabama, the combat of tlie, with the Kearsarge, 5S1. Alarm, caused by the total solar eclipse, 135. by the mysterious dark day of 1780, 40. Alexander, Czar of Kussia, the centennial gratula- tions of, 705. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, tour in the United States of, 493. Along the Jordan, wild and impressive scenery, 356. Ambassador, John Adams, the tirst from the United States to England, 70. Ambassadors, the Japanese, 491. Amendment, fifteenth constitutional, ratification of, by the states, 552. Amkrica, matched with England on Lake Erie. 163. — the yacht, the international race won by. 403. — first embassy from the Orient to a foreign power Sent to, 485. — the bloodiest day in the history of, 535. — free popular education, the progress of in, 667. American defenses at New Orleans, 171. — forces, junction of the, with the French at York- town, 56. — independence, declaration of, 25. Amitv, between England and America, 70. Anderson, Gen., his defense of Fort Sumter. 501. — restoration of the U, S., flag to Fort Sumter by, 615. — John, Major Andre*s capture under the name of, 49. Andre, IVIajor, the British spy, manner and incidents of the capture of. 49. 50. Ills Intrigue with Beneilict Arnold, 49. Anecdotes, relating to the selection of the location of the national capital, 114. Annapolis, Washington's resignation of his commis. sion to congress at, 08. Anniversary of the birth of the republic, celebration of the one hundredth, 6S0. Antietam, the battle of, 535. Apostles. Mormon, their proselyting in Europe, 21&. — of Temperance, the famous, 277. Apostrophk, Webster's eloquent, to the Union, 211. Appalling catastrophe, on hoard the Princeton. 315. Appeal for life, to Gibbs, the pirate, by a girl, 222. Appearance of the great comet of 1843, 3Uo. — of Jenny Liud at Castle Garden, 392. Application of Lafayette to enter the American army, 188. Appomatox, the momentous occurrence at, 612. April 14, 1865, the bereavement of the nation on, 617. Archbishop McCloskey, consecration of, as the first American cardinal. 675. Ari hives, the removal of the national, to Washing- ton, 116. Arctic, the Collins steamer, loss of the, at sea by col lision at noonday with the Vesta, 429. Army. Washington assuming command of the, 64. — the farewell address of Washington to the. 07. Arnold, Benedict, early career and character of, 48, account of the treason of, 4B. plot of, to deliver West Point to the British, 49. frustration of the plot of, 50. escape from arrest of, 52. reward and punishment of, 54. Arrest, of Aaron Burr, dramatic scene at the, 147. — Prof. Webster's, for murder of Dr. Parkinan, 378. — of Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln, 625. Arrival, of Lafayette in New York, scene at the, 191. — of Kossuth in New York, scene at the, 416. — of the Great Eastern with the Atlantic cable, 635. Artificial light, wonderful revolution in, 484. AsHMUN. Hon. George, of Springfield, Mass., last inter- view of Lincoln with, 618. Asiatic cholera, its visitations upon America. 309. Assassination, attempted, of President Jackson. 236. of President Lincoln, by John Wilkes Booth. 617. scene in Ford's Theater at the. 620. Assault upon Hon. Chas. Sumner in the U. S. Senate chamber by Preston S. Brooks, 437. scene at the, 443. Astonishing feats of horse taming by Prof. Rarey.509. ASSUMING command of the army, Washington, at Cam- bridge, 65. at Vicksburg. Gen. Grant. 555 Atlanta. Ga., Gen. Sherman at. 599. Atlantic telegraphic cable, the several attempts and failures in laying the. 030. the successful laying of the. 632. the first message transmitted through the. 634. Atmospherical phenomena, during the "dark day" of 1780. 42. Attempted assa-ssination of President Jackson. 238. 728 INDEX. Atzerodt, the trial and execution of. 627. Ai^ROKA Borealis, tlie inaguiticent, of l^;.^7, 2G9. its remarkable extent and duration, 2"0. appearance of, 271-274. , accounts of, from different points, 272. Autographic letter, of the Emperor of Germany to President Grant, 704. Avenues of the national capital, Washington's plan of the, IIG. AWAKEMXG.thegreatreligious, of 1857,456. Awful explosion, onboard the Princeton, 315. — visitations, of the cholera and yellow fever, 3G0. '* Awful '* Gardiner, the prize-fighter's conversion, 463. B. Balls, the great, to Prince Albert at New York and Boston, 498. 41»;>. " Banner Town," for furnishing soldiers in the revo- lution, 190. Barclay, Commodore, in the battle of Lake Erie, 168. Barnum, p. T., his success with Jenny Lind, 390. — Jenny Lind's first interview with, 391. " Baron Renfrew," tour of, in the United States, 493. Barricaiunc. the streets against the cholera, 368. Battle, on Lake Erie, Commodore Perry's famous, 167. — on the Thames, against the British and Indians, 170. — at New Orleans. Gen Jackson's famous, 176. — of the Forts, 501. — of Bull Run, the first, 523. — of Antietam, the bloody and decisive, 539. — of Gettysburg the three davs. 567. Battles, the greatest in the Indian wars, 90. — in Mexico. 346-353. — of the civil war, 523, 539, 5o7. — naval, 32, 38, 163, 526, 581. Beauregard, Gen., his demand for the surrenderor Fort Sumter, 504. Beauty of nature, after the " dark day " of 1780, 47. — of the site of the national capital, 116, Beecher, Henry "Ward, the oratorical championship of the Union cause in England by, 573. defending the American Union at Exeter Hall, London, 575. church of, in Brooklyn, 579. Beginning of the wonderful aurora borealis, 270. Bell, Prof. A. G., his invention of the telephone, G84. Benton. Thomas H., the interview of, with Henry Clay before the duel, 197. — the famous expunging resolution of, in U. S. Sen- ate, 263. — contest of, with Webster, Calhoun and Clay. 267. Berlin, celebration of the American centennial in, 704. Bible, used at inauguration of Washington, 90. Biblical plates of the Mormons, history of the, 216. Birds, singular actions of, during the great eclipse, 136. Birth of the new republic, in 1776, 25. centennial commemoration of the, in 1876, 689. BiRTn-PLA.cE of Lafayette, 193. " Black Hawk," the Indian chief, the war with, 92. Blennerhassett, Harman, his complicity in the plot of Aaron Burr. 142. — the early life and romantic histnry of, 143. — the wife of, her brave defense of her husband, 144. — the flight and escape of, 145. — the unhappy fate of. 148. Bloodshed in the senate chamber. 4.'^. Bloodiest day of the civil war, 535. BLOfiDLEss duel between Clay and Randolph, 196. Boggs, Capt.. his naval achievements, 590. Bombardment of Fori Sumter, 501. — ot Vicksburg, 554. Bona r arte, Napoleon, his tribute to Washington, 125. Booth, John Wilkes, assassination of President Lin- coln by, 620. — dramatic flight and arrest of, 625. — tragic death of, 626. — his dying message to his mother, 627. — trials and fates of the accomplices of, 627. Boring, for petroleum, the first, 479. Boston Corbett, Sergeant, G24. Bradford, David, the leader of the whiskey insurrec- tionists in Pennsylvania, 107. Brazil, the Emperor of, at the centennial, 690. Breaking and taming of wild horses, by Karey, 509. — out of the temperance reformation of 1840, 276. — up of Burr's expedition, 14G. Bridal chamber, the Asiatic cholera in the, 373. Brilliant musical tour of Jenny Lind, 386. Broadway, N.Y., the grand Kossuth procession in. 416. Brooks, Preston S., his assault upon Senator Sum- ner, 437. Brute creation, elFect of the solar eclipse on the, 136. Buchanan, President, reception of the Japanese em- bassy by, 487. — correspondence between Queen Victoria and, 494. — reception of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales by, 496. — Commodore, in command of the Merrimac, 526. Buildings of the centennial exhibition of 1876, 694. Bull Run, the first battle of, 517. — the opposing armies before, 518. — the conflict and panic at, 521. — the losses of the contending armies at, 525. — coincidences, remarkable, of the last battle of the war with, 613. Bunker Hill, oration of Daniel Webster at the laying of the comer stone of the monument at, 192. visit of Lafayette to, 192. BURNSIDE, Gen., gallantry of, at Antietam, 538. — "the holding of the hill" at Antietam by, Geo. W, Smalley's account of, 538, 539. Burning of one of the great oil wells, 482. — of the city of Chicago in 1871, 655. Burial of George Washington, 123. — of Abraham Lincoln, 624. — place of Lincoln, 626. Burr, Aaron, account of the early life of, 127. — his bravery and ardor in the revolution. 128. — his dismissal by Washington, for debauchery, 128. — his career as a lawyer, 128. — his election to the United States Senate, 129. — his candidacy for the presidency, 129. — his quarrel and fatal duel with Hamilton, 130. — his conspiracy to establish an American empire, 143. — and his deluded followers, 146. — his trial for treason and acquittal, 147. — Theodosia. the daughter of, her devotion to, 148. — his death, 150. Bursting of the monster gun, "Peacemaker," on board the Princeton. 315. Burying the dead at Antietam, 636. Cabinet, the discussion in Pres. Lincoln's, upon the emancipation proclamation, 547. — reception of the news of Cornwallis's surrender, in the English. 58. Cable, the Atlantic, telegraph, section of the, 629. — the atteniDts and failures to lav. 6;w — tne scene at the completion of, 0;'2. — the first message transmitted through, 634. California, disastrous earthquake in, IGl. — tlie acquisition of, 347. — rapid growth of. account of the, 366. — reign of the vigilance committee in, 395. INDEX. 729 California, the gold excitement of 1848 In, 360. — Fremont's expeditions to, JOl. — the first execution in, 396. Campaign against Vicksburg by the Union forces, 654. Canbv, Gen., surrender of Generals Uick Taylor and Kirby Smith to. 015. Canxoxading of Fort Sumter, 500. — of Vicksburg, 555. Capital, national, description of the, llti. Capitol, Washington laying the corner stone of the national, 116. — Webster's oration at the laying of the corner stone of the extension of the national, 118. Capture of Major Andre, the British spy, 50. — of Aaron Burr, 147. — of Gibbs the pirate, 226. — of the assassin, John Wilkes Booth, C25. Cardinal, Archbishop McCIoskey, first American, 676, Career of Benedict Arnold, 48. — of Aaron Burr, 129. — of Gibbs, the noted pirate, 222. — of Capt. Raphael Semmes, 581. Carpexter, F. B., the great historical painting of the "proclamation of emancipation" by, 546. Cathedral, the most magnificent American, dedica^ tion of, 675. — ceremonies of the dedication of St, Patrick's, 680. Catholic cardinal, consecration of the first, in Amer- ica, 675. Cattle, actions of, dviring the eclipse of 1806, 136. Celebratiox of the completion of the Pacific Rail- road, 637. — of the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of the republic, 698. Cextexxial commemoration of the birth of the re- public, 689. — celebration of independence day, 1876, 698. Ceremony, at the resignation of Washington as com- mander-in-chief of the army, 68. — of the presentation of John Adams, first minister to England, to King George III., 74. — at the opening of the centennial exhibition, 692. Cerro Gordo, Victory of Gen. Winfield Scott at, 350. Ch.vmpioxship, of the sea, race for the, 403. — of the Union cause in England, Henry Ward Beech- er's, 573. Change of scene after the dark day of 1780, 44. CilAPULTEPEC. account of the storming of, 347. Cherbourg, the duel of the iron-clads at, 581. Chicago, the destruction by fire of, in 1871, 653. — reception of the Prince of Wales at, 494. Cholera, the scourge of the Asiatic, 368. — its visits to and ravages in America, 369. — its causes, 369. — phenomena of and incidents in relation to, 370. — the fancied preventives and remedies of, .".70. — horrible scenes during the prevalence of. 371-375. — comparative mortality of, between the .sexes. .374. Christmas gift of Gen. Sherman toPres. Lincoln. 605. Cixcixx.VTi, ovation to the Prince of Wales at, 695. City of Washington in 1876, 110. Ciyil war, the cause of the, 501. the first aggression in the, at Sumter, 502. the first battle of the, 517. the last battle of the, 607. remarkable coincidence in the. 613. Clay, Henry, the duel of, with John Randolph, lf6. Coincidence, of the great earthquake, and first steam navigation. 157. — of the first and last battle of the war, 61.'^. Colleges, account of the progress of American, 668. Collision, the strange, of the Arctic and Vesta, 4i;9. Colt, John C, murder of Adams by, 384. Colt, conviction for murder and suicide in prison of,385. Combat oi the Merrimac and Monitor, 520. — of the Alabama and Kearsarge, 581. Comet, the remarkable, of 1843, account of, 300. Comets of the century, account of, 3(i5. Commemor.^.tion. centennial, of Independence. 698. Completion of the Pacific Railroad, celebration of, 637. scene at Promontory Point upon the, G41. Commerce with Japan, the first treaty for, 485. Confederacy, Southern, attempt to establish a, ,501. the fall of the capital of the. 607. Conflagration, the most destructive of the age. 653. — singular exemption of a single house in the, 659. Consecration, the first, of a prince of the Catholic Chur-^h, in America, 078. Conspiracy, to form an American empire. 142. — of Booth and others to assassinate the principal officers of the government. 017. Constitution, Federal, formation of the. 77. — the causes leading to the formation of the, 78. — the objects sought to be attained by the, 78. — the men who shaped the, 78, 79. — John Randolph's plan of a. 80. — the exciting debate upon the. 80. — the secrecy of the debate upon the, 80. — speech of Benj. Franklin upon the. 81. — scenes in convention upon adoption of the, 82. — declaration of Washington upon signing the, 82. — acceptance, by the states, of the. 83. — fifteenth amendment to the. passage of the, 552. Convention, the great constitutional, of 1787, 79. Cornwallis. Lord, surrender of. at Yorktown, 55. — house where the surrender of, took place, 55. — scene at the surrender of, 57. Corliss engine, the great, 692. Cotton Gin, Eli Whitney's invention of the, 98. how it was suggested to Whitney, 99. scene at a, 101. — — the change wrought by the, in the South, 103. the effect upon the commercial world of the, 104. Crisis, the terrible financial, of 1857, 447. — at Antietara, the, 540. Crystal Palace, opening of the, at Kew York, 420. — view of the, 425. Cumberl.'VND, the sinking of the, by the Merrimac. .^28. " Cup of all nations," won by the yacht America, 409. Dana. Prof., his theory as to petroleum, 483. Dancing, American ladies, with Prince Albert, 498. Danville, .Jetferson Davis establishing his seat of gov- ernment at, 014. Dark day. the mysterious, of 1780, 40. — incidents and anecdotes of the, 41. — phenomena, unexplained, attending the, 42. — the extent obscured on the, 45. — scientific theories as to the cause of the, 46. — the unsolved mystery of the, 47. Davis. Andrew Jackson, the spiritual medium, 345. — Jefferson, at the battle of Bull Run. 524. the flight of, after Lee's surrender. 014. Dead Sea, Lynch's expedition to the, 354. — the shores and surroundings of the, 358. — the mystery solved of the. .359. Death, of George Washington. 169. — of Alexander Hamilton. 133. — of John Quincy Adams in the national capit.il. 202. — of Abraham Lincoln, 617. — tragic, of John Wilkes Booth, the assassin, PL'f, Death-bed. scene at President Waiihington's, 122. — scene at President Lincoln's. 621. Debate, the great, between Webster and Hayne. 2. — of the Mexicans by Gen. Scott, 352. — of the Union forces at Bull Run, 523. — of the Confederates at Vicksburg, 557. — of the Confederates at Gettysburg, 567. — of the Alabama by the Kearsarge, 587. — of the Confederate iron-clads at New Orleans, 593. — of the Confederates at Fort Fisher, 507. — of the Confederates at Savannah, 005. — of Gen. Lee by Gen. Grant at Richmond, CIO. Defense of the Union, Beecher's, in England, 573. De Kalb, visit of AVasliiugton and Lafayette to the grave of, 192. Delegates to the convention for framing the federal constitution, 78. Delusion, the Second Advent, of Miller, 307. DnrARTCiiE of Lafayette from America. 195. DeKochamueau, Count, at Yorktown, 59. Desk on which Jeilerson wrote the declaration of inde- pendence, 700. Destri'ction of the world, the expected, 307. — — 5"ev. William Miller's prophecy of, 308. • the preparations made for the impending, 311. — by the great flood in 181.", 178. Devotion of Theodosia, daughter of Aaron Burr, to her father, 118. Diary, "Washington's last entry in his, 120. Difficulty of traveling during the " dark day," 40. Dinner given by Washington to Lord Cornwallis after the surrender f»f Yorktown, 01. — Washington's toast to the British army at the, 62, Discovery of ether as an anresthetic. Slo. — of gold at Sutter's mills in California, .360. Dissolution of the Union, the petition presented by John Quincy Adams, to congress for the, 257. Distinguished temperance advocates. 282. District of Columbia, the laying the first corner stone by Washington in, 116. DoM Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, visit of, to the United States, 690. — starting the great engine at the centennial, 692. Double execution by the vigilance committee in San Francisco. 395. Douglas, Stephen A,, the great debate of, with Abra- ham Lincoln, 469. Drafting of the declaration of independence, 26. — of the emancipation proclamation, 546. Dreams, the prophetic, of President Lincoln, 618. Duel, the fatal, of Burr and Hamilton, 127. — the harmless, of Clay and Randolph, 196. Dueling ground at Weehawken. view of the, 131. — Alexander Hamilton's testimony against, 132. — ground at Bladensburg, view of the. 2^2. Dying words of George Washington. 119. — John Quincy Adams, in the national capital, 262. — message of the assassin Booth to his mother, 627. Early home of President Lincoln, C17. Earthquake, the great western, of 1811, 156. its extent and disastrous etlects, 157. its long-continued violence, 159. the changes wrought by, 160. Eclipse, the total solar, at mid-day, of 1606. effect upon the witnesses of, 135. — — the actions of beasts and bir^ls during, 136. scientitic calculations based upon, 137. reports from ditfei-ent observers of, 138. views of the superstitious upon, 140. Edison, Thomas A., the inventor, accounts of, 681. — his improvements upon the electric light, 682. — his invention of the phonograph, Gbo. — his invention of the microphone, 687. Edmonds, Judge, account of, as a spiritualist, 345. — his classification of spiritual mediums, 345. Education, free popular, in the United States, rise and progress of, 667. — contrast of the old with the new system of. 670, -^ the grants of public lands in aid of, 671. — bureau of, at Washington, 672. — free public, for females, condition of schools for, 673. Egypt, its contribution to the exhibition of 1876, 697. Election, first, of a president '-f the United States. 85. Electric light, the invention of, by Prof. Farmer, 6bl. description of the, 682. the adaptations to use of the, 683. at sea, 683. — telegraph, the invention-of the, 244. Electricity, experiments of Prof. :\Iorse with, 244. — the trial of, in congress by Gov. Wallace, 247. Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton gjn, 100. Emancipation, Pres. Lincoln's proclamation of, 544. — the exigency that caused the prtwlamation of. .545. — the great event of the 19th century, estimated by Lincoln as, 548. — public reception of proclamation of, 550. — its effect upon the freedmen, 551. Eminent revival preachers of the century, 460. EMn,\ssY, the first, from the New Republic to the Eng- lish Court, 70. — the results of John Adams's to George III., 75. — the first Oriental, to a foreign government, 486. Emigration, the great, to California in the gold ex- citement of 1848. 367. — the great, to the oil regions in 1859, 476. Emperor of Germany, letter of, to Pres. Grant. 704. • his congratulations upon the republic's centen- nial anniversary. 707. — of Brazil, Dom Pedro, at the centenninl, 692. Encomium \ipon Massachusetts. Dani^'l Webster's, 209. End of the world, the Millerites awniting the, 310. Engine, the Corliss, nt the exposition of ls76, 692. Pres. Grant and Dom Pedro starting the, 692. Engineering, feats of, in the construction of the Pa- cific railway, 638. England, the reception of the first Republican ambas- sador by, 70. — the heir to the throne of, in the United States, 493. — banishment of Aaron Burr from. 148. Entrance of the United States army into the capital of Mexico, 3.52. — of the Union army into the ConfederRte capital. 610. — of the New Ynrk Seventh Regiment into Union Square at the centennial celebration. 701. Epidemics, the great yellow fever and cholera. 368. — the several great, of the century, 369. — heart-rending scenes during the prevalence of, 371. FnirssoN. construction of the "Monitor" by, 530, Ether, discovery of, as an anaesthetic. 324. INDEX. 751 Ether, religious objections urged against tlie use of, 325. — the tliree claimnuts to the discovery of, 326. — the ettects, beneticent aud amusing, of 329. — Ward's monument in honor of the discovery of, 330. EVARTS, William ZM., the centennial oration of, t>i.t8. Everett, Edward, his eulogy of Webster's speech against Hayne, 210. Excitement, the great gold, of lti4S, 360. — the great temperance, of 1849, 2bl. — the great financial, of 1^57, 447. — the great religious, of 1859, 406. — the great petroleum, of lJrD9, 476. — the great patriotic, of 18G1, 501. Execution, the first in California, 396. Executions, by the vigilance committee of Cali- fornia, 401). Exeter hall, London, Uenry Ward Beecher's defense of the Union cause in, 575. Exhibition, the great, of 1853 in New York, 421. — the great centennial of 1876 in Philadelphia, 689. Expected destruction of the world, the, 307. Expedition, Fremont's to the Kocky mountains, 285. — of Lieut. Lynch to the Dead Sea and Jordan, 354. Explanation of the electric light, 6^2. — of the telephone, C84. — of the phonograph, 685. — of the microphone, 687. Exploration of the Dead Sea and lUver Jordan, Lynch's, 354. — of the Rocky mountains, Fremont's, 2?6. Explosion, terrible, of Com. Stockton's monster gon, on the Princeton, 319. Exposition, the grand centennial, of 1876, 689. — Pres. Grant and Dom Pedro at the, G92. Expunging resolution, the Benton, passage of, in U. S. senate, 263. three years parliamentary struggle over the, 268. Extknsivf, earthquake at the West, of 1811, 156. Kxtbaordinarv, combat of the iron-clada, Merrimac and Monitor, 520. — coincidence as to tbe first and last battles of the civil war, 613. F.xultation, at the declaration of independence, 28. — at the proclaniati'iu of emancipation, 550. Fac-S!MILE, of the expiuiged Jackson resolution, 267. ~ of the seal of the vigilance committee, 397. — of the signature of the Fmperor of Germany, 706. Failurks, during the great financial panic, of 1857,448. Fall of Fort Sumter, 503. — of Richmond, 007. Famous whiskey insurrection of 1794 in Penn., 106. Farewell words of Washuigton to his army. r.7. of Washington's mother to Washington, 85. of President Monroe to Lafayette, 195. — of Gen. Lee to his oflicers, 613. — message of the inunlerer Booth to Ms mother, 626. Farmer, Prof., invention of the electric, light by, fi«2. Farnsworth, Gen., at the dedication of the monu- ment on the battle field of Bull Run. 525. Farragut, Adm., achievements of, at New Orleans, 589. — his running the Confederate batteries at Forts Jackson and St. Philip, 500. — his gallant action in Mobile bay, 592. F\8T1NG and prayer, national day of, during the great pestilence of, 1.^49. .369. F\TAL do*'! bf^tween Aaron Burr and Alexander Ham- ilton. 127. Father Mathew. his visits to the L^nited States. 281. Federal constitution, its formation and adoption, 77. I'TRLI>. Cyrop W., at laying of the Atlantic rable. fxW. •'Fifteenth amendment." adoption of the, 552. Fillmore. Presideni. m Uie laying of the cornerstone of the capiiul exiensiun, ll^. Financial crisis, the great of, 1857, 447. Fire, the great Chicago, 653. First American cardinal, 676. — election of president of the United States, 65. — engagement of the civil war, 518. — execution in California, 396. — gun of the great rebellion, 502. — minister to England, 71. — naval victory of the United States, 35. — occupation of a foreign capital by U. S. army. . . — oriental embassy, 485. — squadron combat of the U. S. navy, 163. — steamboat in American waters, 150, — steam railway, 646. — telegraphic message over an established line, 249. — telegraphic message through the Atlantic cable, 634. Flag, the first display of a U. S. naval, 32. — description of the first U. S. naval ensign, 33, — the British, first striking of, at sea, to the U S.. 38. — the fall of the U. S.. at Fort Sumter, ^h. — the restoration of the U. S.. at Fori Sumter, 615. Flight of Jefierson Davis, after Lee's surrender, 6!4. of John Wilkes Booth, after his crime, 625. Foot, Senator, the famous resolution of, 206. FooTE, Admiral, his naval services, 861. Ford's theater Washington, D. C, 618. scene in, at the assassination of Lincoln. 520, Formation of the federal constitution, 77. Fort Fisher, Admiral Porter's victory at, 697. — McAllister, fall of, 605. — Moultrie, in the operations at Charleston, 50.3. — Sumter, bombardment of, 501. — — gallant defense of, by Gen. Kob. Anderson, 502. evacuation of, by the United Stutes garrison, .505. restoration of the U. S. flag to, 615. Fortifications, at Vicksburg. 554. Founding of tbe national capital, 112. Fox Sisters, the wonderful mediuniB, career of the. 342. Franklin, Benjamin, pleading for pacification, 81, — Gen., at the battle of Bull Kun, 520. Free, popular education, progress of. 667. Freedom of the slaves, Lincoln's proclamation of. M4, Frederick the Great, his eulogy of WasbingroD. 125 Fremont. John C, his expedition to the Ro^ky moii") tains, 285. Fulton, Kohert. the early life of. 150. — the invention of the steamboat by, 151. — the first pecuniary reward of, 154. Funeral of Geo. W.ishinpton, 12."^. — of Abraham Lincoln, 617. Gai^e, the memorable, of in5, 178. its havoc on land and sea, 179. the singular phenomena accompanying, 179. estimates of property destroyed by, l>'.i. Gardiner, " Awful," the revivalist prize-fighter, 4fi.3. Generals, the two great, face to face, 607. Germany, letter of the Emperor of, to Pres. Grant, 7* 5 Gettvsburo. the three days' battle at. 563, — scene at the height of. .^)67. — tbe last desperate charge of tbe Confederates at. 561* Gibbs, the pirate, career of; the real name of, 222, — his war on the commerce of all nations. 224. — his capture, execution and remorne, 227, Gold, the discovery of, in California, 360. Capt. Sutter'8 search for. .36.1. — James W. Marshall's accidental di«coven ''t. '^'>*- — the great emigr*itiin to th'» land of, 3fi7. 732 INDEX. Good Templars, gathering of, at the centennial, 693. Gra>"d AiiMV of the republic, at lh(3 centennial, 693. — balls to Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, 498, 499. — dinner given by Washington to Cornwallis, 61. — march of Sherman's army through the South, 599. Gra.ngers, the national organization of, Btio. — the principles, aims and extent of, tiCl. Grant, Ulysses S., victory of, at Vicksburg, 5&i. — surrender of the Confederate army to, 613. — his election to the presidency of the U. S., 614. — iiiaugiu:ation of the exposition of lt.76, by, 6911. Gkkat whiskey insurrection in Pennsylvania, 105. — debate between Webster and Hayue, 205. — struggle for the right of petition in congress, 262. — temperance reformation of 1840, 276. — awakening in the religious world in 1S57, 456. — conflagration at Chicago, 653. Greatest defeat and victory in Indian wars, 91. — new year's present of the century, 647, H. Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, 2T. Halls of the .Montezumas, Gen. Scott in the, 362. Ha-MILtox, Alexander, the public life of, 127. — his fatal duel with Aaron Burr, 127. — his testimony against dueling, 132. — the funeral obsequies of, 133. — the meeting of the widow of, with Aaron Burr, 133. Hammond, E. P., the revival preacher, 460. Hampton- Koads, the combat of the iron-clads in, 526. Ha>-( (n K, .John, his signature to the declaration of in- dependence, 31. Harold, the trial, conviction and execution of, 628. Harper's Ferrv, the surrender of, 636. Ha-Rrison, Gen., his victory over Tecmnseh, 170. Hart, Sergeant, gallant action of, at Fort Sumter, 606. — raising the flag at Sumter after the war, 616. Hartford, battle of the, with the Tennessee. 594. Harvard College, the growth of, 668. Hatch, Cora L. V., the noted spiritual medium, W6. Ha YNK, the great debate of, with Webster, 205, Head-qcarters of General Arnold, 53. — of Gen. Sleade at Gettysburg, 663. Hei.ntzelman, Gen., the division of, at Bull Run, 618. Hf.ir to the British throne, his tour of the U. S., 493. Hknry, Patrick, the eloquent appeal of, 26. Hooker, Gen. .Joseph, at Antietam, 636. Holmes, Oliver Wendell, his tribute to etherization, ,326 Home, D. I>., the celebrated spiritual medium. ?A?.. Horrible Disaster on board the Princeton, 319. Horrors of the whirlwind of 1815, 163. — of the cholera visitations, 372. — of the lynch law in California, ,396. House where Cornwallis surrendered, 65. — in which spirit rappings originated, 341. — where President Lincoln died, 621. — of President Lincoln nt Springfield, ni., 623. — remaining after the conflagration of Chicago, 664. — in which Thomas Jefferson wrote the declaration of independence, 689. Howard, Gen., his service with Sherman's army, 602. Horse Tamin-o, astonishing feats of Prof. Rarey in, 509. Queen Victoria at Karey's exhibition of, 613. HOWK, Elias, his invention of the sewing machine, X». HtTMBOLDT, his tribute to an American explorer, 290. HOKTRB, Gon., division of, at battle of Bull Run. 518. I. iNvrorRATiox of Washington as flrst president. S6. — bihle upoo at the, "a. 1>-DFPKNDE>CB, the declaration of Araericar.. 26. Ikdepekdexce, the causes which led to, 26. eloquence of Patrick Henry in support of, 26. resolution of Richard Henry Lee for, 26. original draft of, the maker of the. 26. speech of John Adams upon, 26. views of Washington as to, 26. the scenes following the proclamation of, 28. enthusiasm of the people upon, 28. the reception, by foreign powers of. 29. the final accomplishment of the purpose of, 31. centennial celebration of, 698. the centennial reading of the original of, 699. — hall at Philadelphia, July 4, 1876, 09.1. Lndias Wars, the greatest defeats and victories fn, 9i defeat of St. Clair by "Little Turtle " in the, u^ victories of JIad Anthony Wayne in, 95. Gen. Jackson's ending of the, 97. LNonsTKY of all nations, great exhibition of the. In New York, 421. — the objects of the society of Sovereigns of, 666. Insurrection, the famous whiskey, in Pecn., 106. the origin and motto of, 106. the suppression of, by Washington and Lee, W Interior of the World's fair of 1853 in New York. 421. — of Fort Sumter after the bombardment, 607. — of the tower of the Jlonitor, ,520. International Rfgatta, won by "the America," 403 Interview of John Adams with the King and Qoeor of England, 73. — between Aaron Burr and his pursuers, 14T. — of Gen. Washington and Lafayette, first, 18T. — of LaLayette and Red .Jacket. i'M. — of .Jenny Lind and P. T. Barniim, first. 390. — of the .Jjipanese emhaspy and Prea. Buchanan. IRH — of Grant and Peniberton before Vicksburg, 6«0 — of Generals Grant and Lee after the last battle. nCT. Intention of the cotton gin by Wliitney, 9«. — of the electric telegraph by Morse, 244. — of the sewing machine by Howe, 3,'*2. — of the electric light by Fanjier, 681. — of the telephone by Bell, 684. — of the phonograph by Edison, 685. — of the microphone by Es, the combats of the, 6?/i, 631. Jackson. Gen., his decisive victory over the !nf the, 486. — manner of bearing the treaty, 485. — ambassadors, description of the, 486. — Tommy, the petting of, by the Americnn ladies. 4pi. Jefferson. Thomas, his draft of the declaration of indeperdence. 26. .Jkffrrsov Davis, flight of, after Lee's Bnrrender. 614. JRVNV I.IVD. hermusical tourinthe United StAtee_ 38fi — her tiret appearance, in opera. .387. INDEX. 733 Jenxv LrxD, her musical career, "fs. — her first concert iu llie United States, 390. — ber generous gift to the poor iu Xew York, 351. — the furor over, 31)1. — her duet with Dauiel 'Webster, 393. — her pecuniary success in the Uuited States, 394. Ju>-Es, John Paul, Commodore, history of, 32. — the first display of an United States ensign by, 33. — his capture of the Serapis, 30. JoRD.ix, the exploration of the river, by Lynch, 3&4. — the waters and fishes of the river, 335. — the banks and scenery of the, 3X. — description of the valley of the, 357. JCLY 4, 1776, the ««ntennial celebration of 698. K. Kearsaroe, capture of the Alabama by the, 586. Kellv, O. H., one of the founders of the National Grange organization, CGI. Keves, Gen., the brigade of, at Bull Kun,620. KiLPATRicK, Gen., the battle flag of, at Gettysburg, 570. Jvi.NDS of spiritual manifestations. Judge Edmond"3 definition of the several, 345. KING George III., his reception of the first ambassa- dor from the United States, 74. — Fredeiick William, tribute of, to Fremont, 290. King's College, old, view of, 668. Kirk, Edward N., the revivalist, 657, Kit Caksij.v, the companion and guide of Fremont in the Kocky mountains, 286. K.\APP, Jacob, the revivalist, 460. K.MGHTs TE.M I'LAUs, assembly of, at PUila. in 1876, 693. — of Pythias, parade of the, at the centennial, 693. Knowledge of rock oils among the early Indians, 476. Kossuth, the visit of, to the United States, 412. — biography of, 413. — Daniel Webster's laudation of, 418. — eloquence and characteristics of, 417. I_. Labor Organizations, history of the, 660. Lafayette, gallantry of, at Yorktown, 56. — his early soldier life, 187. — his reception by Gen. Washington, 188. — his gallant services in the revolution, 189. — his visit to the United States as the guest of the na- tion, by invitation of congress, 189. — his last visit to the United States, 190, — his interview with Red Jacket, 194. — his visit to the tomb of Washington, 194. — his parting interview with President Monroe, 195. Lake Erie, the great naval combat on, 163. Lakes formed by the great earthquake of 1811, 160. Last hours and words of Gen. Washington, 119. — words written by President Lincoln, 019. Latter-day Saints, origin and tenets of. 216. Lamng the corner stone of the national capitol, 116. — the corner stone of Bunker Hill monument, 192. — the Atlantic telegraphic cable, 630. Lee, Gen. Henry, his suppression of the great whiskey insurrection iu Pennsylvania, 111. — Gen. Robert E., at Gettysburg, .564. — his surrender to Gen. Grant at Appomatox, 612. Letter of King George on the defeat at Yorktown, 60. — last, of General Washington, 120. — congratulatory, of Emperor William of Germany to President Grant, 705. — of Queen Victoria to President Buchanan. 4W. Life among the gold-diggers of California, 367. Lincoln, Abraham, his great debate with Douglas, 469. — his election to the presidency, 475. Lincoln, his emancipation proclamation, 544. — and his cabinet discussing emancipation, 549. — his visit to Richmond after Lee's surrender, 613. — the murderous assault of J. Wilkes Booth upon,' 617. — the prophetic dream of, 618. — the scene at the death-bed of, 621. — last words written by, 619. — the funeral obsequies of, 023. LiND, Jenny, the musical tour in America of, 386. " Little Turtle," his victory over St. Clair, 95! Loco.motive, the first use of the, 646. London, celebration of the American centennial in 703 Longstreet, Gen., at the battle of Antietam, 569.' Loss of the steamer Arctic by collision at mid-day, 429. Losses of the two contending armies at Bull Run,' 526. Lot's Wife, discovered by Lynch's expedition, 359. Lynch Law, reign of, in California in 1851, 395. Lynch, Lieut., expedition of, to the Dead Sea, 354. Lyell, Prof., his account of the great earthquake, 160. M. Machinery building, at the centennial of 1S76, 693. Maffit, John X., the revivalist, 456. Magnificent Aurora Borealis of 1837, 269. Malignant Epidemics, visits of, to the U. s. 368 Manassas, battle of, 517. ' Ma.vchester, attempts to silence Beecher in, 574. Manifestations, spiritual, accounts of, 344.' Mansfield, Gen., death of, at Antietam'. 536. Manuscript of the emancipation proclamation, 544. March of General Sherman's army to the sea, 598. Marine Disaster, terrible, to the Arctic, 428. ' Marshall, accidental discovery of gold by, 364. Masonic Ceremonies at the national capitol, 115 Massachusetts, Webster's eulogy of, 209. JIathe'W. Father, his temperance mission, 281. McClellan, Gen., at Antietam, 536. JIcCloskev, Archbishop, first American cardinal, 675. consecration of, 676. McDowell, Gen., at Bull Run, 518. McLean, first and last battle of the civil war fought on the farm of, 613. JIcPherson, Gen., the surrender of Vicksburg to, 560. Meade, Gen., at Gettysburg, 563. Mediums, spiritual, accounts of the great, 342. Meigs, the volunteer generalship of the young son of Gen.. 524. Memueks of the first constitutional convention, 78. Meruimac and .Monitor, combat of the, 526. .Message, the first telegraphic, 249. — the first from Europe, over the -Atlantic cable, 634. Messages between the President and the Queen, 634. Meteoric Shower of 1833, the great, 228. the extent covered by the. 229. the changes of weather wrought by the, 231. theorie.'!, scientific and superstitious, as to, 233. Metropolitan Elevated Railway in X Y., 652. Mexico, conquests of Gens. Scott and Taylor in', 347-353. — the American army entering the capital of, 352. Microphone, the invention of the, by Edison,' 681! Mid-ocean, collision of steamers at noonday in, 428. — union of the telegraphic cables in. 629. JIillek, William, Rev., the latter-day prophet, 307. Mining Operatio.vs in California. 360. .Minister to England, the first American, 70. Minnesota, combat of, with the JNIerrimac, 529. Miracles of Science, the four, 680. .Mobile Bay, exploits of Admiral Farragut in, 694, Modern locomotive, the, 647. — railway car, the. 649. JIoNiTOR AND .Mkrrimac, battle between the, 82«. Monroe, Pres., parting address of, to Lafayette, 196. ^1 734 INDEX. MoNTEREV, Gen. Taylor's victory at. 348. Monument to Alexander Huniilion, 1:^7. — laying the corner stone of Bunker Hill, 192. — to the discovery of etherization, 330. — to the victims of cholera, 370. — soldiers', the, at Gettysburg, 571. Moody and Sankev, the great revivalists, 456. Mormon Temple at Nauvoo, description of the, 221. Mormons, the rise and progress of the, 214. — origin of the sect of, 215. — their leaders and theology, 21G. — the first church of the, 217. — proselyting in Europe by the, 219. — murder of Lieut. Gov. Boggs by the, 219. — Brjgham Young's connection with the, 220. — Salt Lake City, the Zion of the, description of, 221. Morse, Prof., his invention of the telegraph, 244. — his trials, troubles and triumphs. 245. Morton, Dr., his claim to the ether invention, 326. Mortality from the Asiatic cholera. 3G9. Mountains, Rocky. Fremont's expedition to the, 285. Mount Vernon, visit of Lafayette to, IM. the Prince of Wales at, i'JG. Murder of Dr. Parkman by Prof. Webster, 376. — of Samuel Adams by John C. Colt, 3S4. Musical Tour of Jenny Liml in the United States. 386. Mutiny, first in the U. S. navy, on the Somers, 290. Mysterious Dark Day of 1780, 40. N. Napoleon, his eulogy of Washington, 124. Narrative of the eclipse of 1806, Cooper's, 135. Narrow Escape of Pres. Jackson from an assassin, 236. of President Tyler at Princeton explosion, 317. National Capital, founding of the. 112. bitter sectional contest as to its location, 113. the reasons for selection of present site of the, 115. National Capitol, Washington and the Freemasons laying the corner stone of the, 116. Webster laying the corner stone of the exten- sion of the, 118. National Ensign, first display of a naval, 3.3. National Grange Organization, history of the, 660. Naval Victory, the first United States. 32. Commodore John Paul Jones's great, 38. Commodore Perry's, on Lake Erie, 1G3. of the Monitor over the Merrimac, 526. of the Kearsarge over the Alabama. 587. Navigation, by steam, first, of American waters, 159. Negro Slaves, the emancipation of the, 544, rejoicing of, over their freedom, 550. New Mexico, the acquisition of, 353. New Orleans, victory of Gen. Jackson at, 176. achievements of Admiral Farragut at, 590. New Republic, the birth of the, 25. centennial commemorations of, 689. News, of the declaration of independence, reception at home and abroad, of the, 28. — of the fall of Sumter, etfect of the, 508. — of the surrender of Lee, etfect of the, 607. — the first sent over the Atlantic cable, 634. New Wonders of the world, the four, 680, New York, arrival of Lafayette in, 190. grand military reception of Kossuth in, 416. great industrial exhibition of 1853, in, 421. great financial panic of 1857, in, 451. grand ball to the Prince of Wales in, 498. Nomination of Washington as General. &4. — of Abraham Lincoln to the presidency, 475. Normal School in New York, 670. North, the great uprising of the, 508. North-west, Fremont's expedition to the far. 286, North-western university, the, 669. O- Oath, administering of the, to Washington, 89. — of Lincoln as tt» emancipation. 548. Objections, religious, against aniesthetics, 325. Objects of the Grange and Labor organizations, 326. Obsequies of President Washington, 123. — of Alexander Hamilton, 1;j3. " of President Lincoln, G23. Observations, scieutitic, of the total eclipse of ISOC, 137. Obstinacy of Geo. IIL as to American atfairs, 71. Occupation of the Mexican capital by United States' troops, 346. Ocean, loss of the Arctic by noonday collision in mid, 42!*. Odd Fellows, parade of, at Philadelphia, in 1876, (i!'3. Ode, Bayard Taylor's centennial, recited at Phil., 690. Ohio, first steamboat on the riv**- 195. — establishment of the Morn. n, 218. Oil regions of Penn., Ky., Ohio and Canada, 478. — rock, the use of, by the early Indians, 476. Onward Movement, the first of the loyal army, 616. Opening act of the civil war, 5(H. — of the exhibition of 1876 at Philadelphia, 691. Operations at Vicksburg. 554. Orations, Daniel Webster's at the laying of the corner stone of Bunker Hill monument, li.i2. — Daniel Webster's at the laying of the corner stone of the capitol extension, 118. — of William M.Evarts, at centennial celebration, 698. Oratorical championship of America's cause in Kug- land, by Henry Ward Beecher, 573. — powers of Kossuth, Webster's laudation of the, 418. — powers of Webster, Everett's testimony to the, 210. Orders of Glory, conferred on Professor Morse, 250. Oregon, the exploring tour of Fremont in, 285. Oriental Princes, at the White House, 486, Original steam car, the, 648. — telegraphic instrument, the. 246. Ovation, in the United States to Lafaj'ette, 186. Ovations to Washington on his journey to his inaugu- ration, 86. Pacific Railroap. the construction of the. 637. Palace, the Crystal, opening of the, in New York, 420. Palo Alto, Gen. Taylor's victory at, 488. Panic during the great earthquake of 1811, 158. — during the prevalence of the Asiatic cholera, 3G9. — the great financial, of 1857, 447. — exciting and amusing scenes during financial, 440. — at Bull Run, 621. Paris, celebration of the American centennial in, 703. Parkman, Dr., murder of, by Prof. Webster, 376. Parting of Gen. Washington with his army, 67. — of Washington with his mother. 85. — of President Monroe with Lafayette, 195. — of Gen. Lee and his army, 613. Passage Money, the first paid on a steamboat, 164. Payne, triAi, conviction and execution of, 627. Pemberton, Gen., interview of, with Gen. Grant, 558. — surrender of Vicksburg by, 660. Pennsylvania, the great whiskey inpurrection in. 106. — the great petroleum excitement in, 476. Perry, Commodore, his victory on Lake Erie, 162. Petition, the great debate upon the right of, 252. — by slaves, for the perpetuation of elavery, 255. — for the dissolution of the Union, by MasearhusetM citizens, 257. Petroleum, the great excitemei.t over, in 1859, 476. INDEX. 736 PETROLEaM, wells of, in Pennsylvania, US, — wells of, in Kentucky, Ohio and Canada, 473. — origin and source of, opinions of Professors Dana and Silliman as to the, 4t4. — his reception on the .American boundary line, 4D4. — his receptions in Chicago, St. Louis and Cin., 494, 495. — his visit to the tomb of Washington, 496. — his visits to Richmond, Baltimore and Phila., 496. — the unexpected international embrace of the, 497. — the grand balls in honor of the, 498, 499. — the ndlitary reception at West Point of the, 498. — at Albany, Springfield and Boston, 499. — his appreciation of the .\merican ladies, 500. PitiycESOF .Jaimn, visit of the, to the V. S., 485. Princeton, the terrible accident on board the, 315. Pkoclamation of Emancipation, the, 544. the most imoortant words in, 547. I/incoius esiimaie of the importance of, 548. Prophecies, scriptural, interpreted by Miller, 307. Q- QlTEEN, interview of John Adams with the British, 75. — Victoria, visit of, to the yacht America, 411. letter of, to President Buchanan, 494. the applause of, at Uarey's exhibition of horse taming, 513. the contribution of, to centennial exhibition, 696. Quarrel of Aaron Burrwiih Alexander Hamilton, 130. Quelling of the great whiskey insurrection of 1794 by United States troops, 110. Question of Supre.macv, between the Indians and the whites. Gen. Jackson's settlement of the, 97. R- Kace, the great international yacht, description of, 403. Eailroad to the Pacific, construction of the, 637. Railway, amount of, built in the half century, 645. — history of the progress of the, in the V. S., f>46. — the first locomotive on an American, 648. — the European. 650. — the MetroDolitan elevated, 652. Rain, the gauge of, during the great gale of 1815, 185. Randolph, John, his duel with Henry Clay, 19fi. Rarey. John S., the great horse-tamer, account of, 509. — liis feats in America and Europe, 510. — Victoria's applause, at the exhibition of, 513. — his method of taming, 515. Ratification of the constitution by the states, 83. — of the fifteenth constitutional amendment, 552. Ravages of the cholera and yellow fever in V. S., 368. Reading the original deblaration of independence to the army in 1776, 27. — the original declaration of independence in Phila- delphia in 1876, 699. Rebellion, the great Southern, the opening act of. 501. — the closing scene of, 612. — the first and last battle of, fought on the same man's land, 613. Reception of Lafayette by President Monroe, 191. — of .Jenny Lind by President Fillmore, 393. — of Kossuth by the United States, 412. — pjand military, of Kossuth in New York, 417. — of the Japanese embassy by Pres. Buchanan. 487. — of the Prince of Wales by Pres. Buchanan, 496. Rkd Jacket, interview of. with Lafayette, 194. Reflection of the great comet in the ocean, 303. Reformation, the great temperance, of 1840, 276. — its origin, apostles, and disciples, 277. REG.iTT.4, the great international yacht, at Cowes, 403. Reign of the vigilance committee in California, 395. Religiocs Keviv.al, the great, of 1857, 456. its striking moral results, 464. Remaukakle coincidence of the civil war, 613. — exception of a single house from the great confia gration of Chicago, 653. Reno, Gen., death of, at Antietam, 541. Reply of John Paul Jones to British commander, 34. — of George 111. to John .Adams, 74. — of Gen. McClellan to Gen. Burnside's request f < » reinforcements at Antietam, .MO. Reporter, Geo. W. Smalley, the, at Antietam, 542. Repossession of Fort Sumter by U. S. governm't, 61.". Republic, the birth of the new, in 1776, 25. — centennial celebration in 1876 of the, 689. Resaca de la Palma, Gen. Taylor's victory at, 348. Residence of Lafayette. 191. — of President Lincoln .at Springfield, 111., 623. Resignation of command by Washington, 66. — and re-election to congress of Preston S. Brooks, 444 Resolution of independence, Richard Henry Lee's, 2( — of censure of Jackson, expunging of the, 252. Restoration of the U. S. flag to Fort Sumter, 614. Revival, the great religious, of 1857, 456. Revivalists, the great, 464. Reynolds, Gen., at Gettysburg, 564. Richardson. Gen., at Bull Run, 518. Richmond, the fall of, 607. Right of Petition, the struggle for the, 252. the eleven days' debate upon the, 261. Ringing of the Bell, .July 4. 1776, 25. Rise and progress of the Mormons, 214. Riot, the great whiskey, in Pennsylvania, 105. " Rochester Knockings," account of the, 340. Rock Oil, early knowledge of, by the Indians, 476. — the great excitement of 1859 upon discovery of, 478. Rocky' Mountains, Fremont's expedition to the, 285. — the national flag planted on highest peak of the, 287. — animal life at the summit of the, 287. Run on a bank during the panic of 1857, 447. Salt Lake City', description of, 221. San Francisco, the crimes of the "hounds" in. 395 — the reign of the vigilance committee in, 396. Sanitary* Fair, Lincoln's contribution to the, 552. Sankev, Ira D., revivalist, beneficent services of, 464. Santa Anna, victory of Gen. Taylor over, 349. Savannah, Ga., Gen. Sherman's capture of, 605. Scheme to deliver West Point to the British, 49. — to make Washington king, 66. — of .Aaron Burr to found an American empire, 143. Scene at the death-bed of Washington. 122. — of the Burr and Hamilton duel at YVeehawken, .31. — of Fultoii's first trial of his steamboat, 153. — of the great earthquake in the West, 1.58. — at the earthquake in San Francisco, 161. — at the battle of Lake Erie, 167. — at the battle of New Orleans, 176. — during the great flood of 1815, 179. — during the great September gale, 180, — during the great whirlwind, 1S3. — at landing of Lafayette at the Battery, N. Y., 186. — in the great debate of Webster and Hayne, 212. — in congress during the speech of John Quince Adams on the right of petition, 258. — in Fremont's tour to the Rocky mountainB, 289. — at the loss of the .Arctic, 4.33. — at the combat of the Merrimac and Monitor. 531. INDEX. 757 Scene at signing of the emancipation proclamation. .'549. — at Ford's tlieater at tlie assassination of Lincoln, t'.'jn. — at the completion of the Pacitic Hailroad. fi41. Schools, system of, in the U. S., progress of the. G(57. ScHiTRz, Carl, centennial oration at St. Louis by, 702. SciENcF, the four miracles of. (i.sn. Scott, Gen., in the halls of the Montezumas, 346. — at the head of the loyal army in the civil war, .508. Scourge of the cholera and yellow fever, 368. Se.\, the Dead, Lynch's expedition to, 354. Sk.\t of goverment, contest as to the location of the, 113. establishment of the, in New York in 1789, 88, transferring of the, to Washington in 1800, 110. Secession, the first gun of, 501. — the last battle of. 612. Sectional Contest on location of the capital, 113. Seconk Advent excitement of 1843. the, 307. symbolical illustration of prophecies as to the, 309. Sedgwick, Gen., at Gettysburg, 564. Sem.mes, Capt. Raphael, career of, with Alabama, 581. September Gale of 1815, the memorable, 178. Serapis, capture of the, by John Paul Jones, 36. Sew.\rd, William H., murderous aesault upon, 627. SEWING Machine, invention of, by Howe, 322. the old and the new, 336. Sherman, Gen. W. T., grand march to the sea of, 698. — the army of, in the march, 602. — his Christmas gift to President Lincoln, 605. Shooting St.\rs, wonderful display in 1833 of, 228. Siege of Vicksiu'RG by Gen. Grant, 557. Sierra Nevada, Fremont's exploration of the. 286. Signing of the declaration of independence, 31. — of the constitution by the delegates. 82. — the pledge in the great reformation of 1840, 279, — of the emancipation proclamation, 649. SlLLIMAN, Prof., his theory as to petroleum. 483. Sinking of the Cumberland with tiag flying, .528. Slavery, petition to congress, by slaves, for the per- petuation of, 255. Slaves, the emancipation of the, by President Lin- coln's proclamation, 544. — the jubilation of the emancipated, .551. Smallev, Geo. W., war correspondent of the Tribune, gallantry of, at Antietam, 643. Smith, Joseph, the Mormon leader, history of, 215. Solar Eclipse, the great total, midday. 134. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg, .571. SOMERS, U. S. brig, mutiny on board the, 290. Sovereigns of Industry, objects of the, V>G6. Sovereignty, popular, great debate upon, between Lincoln and Douglas, 469. Spangler, trial of, for conspiracy 627. Speech, farewell, of Gen. Washington, to his .army, 63. — of Washington, in resigning his commission, 68. — of John Adains, to George III.. 74. — of George III. to .John .idams, 74. — of Franklin, on the federal constitution, 81. of Daniel Webstej, in reply to Hayne, 209. — of John Q. Adams, on the right of petition, 254. — of Gen. Grant, at the centennial exhibition. 690. _ of the !\Iikadoof Japan to President Buchanan,488. — of Pres. Buchanan to the Japanese embassy, 488. Spiritu.\l Knockings, and table tippings. :M0. Spiritu.\lism, the rise and progress of. 'vll — theoriesof Ag.assiz.Faraday and Herschel,as to,343. — the variety of phenomena of, 344. — the adherents and literature of. 345. — Judge Edmond's classification of mediunjs of, .■545. Squadron Combat, America and England matched in, 163. State Street, Boston, during hard times of 1857, 461. State Avenue at the Philadelphia exposition, 702. St. Clair, jefeat of, by " Little Turtle," 95. St. Louis, visit of Prince Albert to, 494. St. Patrick's Cathedral, N. Y., dedication of, 680. Stanton. Secretary, at the death bed of Lincoln, 021. St.\rs, the great shower of, in 1833, 228. " Stars and Stripes "on the summit of the Kocky Mountains, 287. on the halls of the Montezumas, 353. Steam, first application of, for navigation, 150. Steamboat, the first on the Hudson, 152. — the first on the Ohio. 155. Steamer Arctic, loss of, by collision at sea, 428. Steers, Geo., the designer of the yacht America, 405. Stockton, Commodore, the explosion of the monster gun of, 315. Storming of Chapultepec, 347. Storrs, K. S., centennial oration in New York by, 702. Struggle, for the right of petition in congress, 252, Subli.me Meteoric Shower of 1833, 228. at Boston, 228. at Niagara Falls 230. on the Mississippi, 233. Successful laying of the telegraphic cable across the Atlantic ocean. 630. Sudden appearance of a great comet in the skies at noonday, .'KIO. Suicide of John C. Colt, the murderer of Adams, in prison, 3S5. Summit of the Rocky Mountains, Fremont upon, 287. Su.mner, Charles, assault of I'reston S. Brooks upon, in the United States senate, 4.'I7. Sumter. Fort, bombardment of, 501. — gallant defense of, by Gen. Anderson, 603. — the fall of, 608. — the re-possession of, by the Vnited States, 615. Surratt. John H., trial and escape from conviction of. for conspiracy, 628. — Mrs., execution by hanging of, for conspiracy. 628. Surrender, of the first British to an American man- of-war, 32. — of Lord Cornwallis to Gen. W.a*hington, 55. — of Gen. Lee to Gen. Grant, 612. Sutter's Mills, Cal., the discovery of gold at, 362. Sword of Washington, 63. — of Lafayette, 190. Symbolic Statue of America, 117. Symbolical Illustrations of the Second Advent prophecies, 309. Symbols of Co-operative Labor Organizations, 662. Table Tippings, and spirit knockings, accounts of, 340. Taking the Oath, Washington, at inauguration, 89. Taming of wild horses, Barey's method of, 517. Tarring and feathering, in the Pennsylvania whiskey insurreclion. 106. Tay'Lor, Bayard, the ode at the centennial by, 690. General Zachary, his victories in Mexico, 348. Te.achings of the Mormon Bible, 216, Tecumseh, General Harrison's victory over. 170. Telegram, the first, 249. Telegraph, the electric, Morse's invention of, 244. description of, 245. the debate upon, and trial of, in congress, 247. Miss Ellsworth's message, the first, over, 249. Telegraphic Cable, the Atlantic, laying the, 629. — the first message through, 034. — the messages through, between Queen Victoria and the President, 634. Telegraphic Instrument, the original, 248. Telephone, invention of the, by Professor Bell, 68i. — description of the. 6.84. Temperance. Gen. W.ashington's testimony as to. 280. 738 INDEX. Temperance reforjiation, the great, of 1840, 276. — its origiu and originators, 277. — the results achieved by, 280. — Father Mathew's apostleship for, in 1849, 281. .'KMPLE, the Mormon, 221. Tennessee, Buchanan's monster ram, 59i5. Termination of the ivar of 1812 with England, 176. — of the great civil war, B12. Terms of Surrender, of Cornwallis, at Yorktowu, 58. at Vicksburg, unconditional, 039. accorded to General Lee, by Central Grant, C12. Terrible crisis, of 1857, in the financial world, 447. — disaster, at sea, 42!t. — earthquake, of 1811, 15i;. — explosion, on the Prijieeton, 315. — fire at Chicago, 853. — gale, of 1815, 179. — scourge, of the Asiatic cholera, 368. Terror of the Indians, upon the appearance of the great comet, 301. — of the people of the West, during the great earth- quake, 15*. — reign of. during the whiskey insurrection, 107. Terry General at Fort Fisher, 507. Theater Ford's, scene in, at the assassination of Pres- ident Lincoln, 620. The First consecration of an American cardinal, 676. election of president of the United States, 85. execution in California, .396. minister plenipotentiary to England, 71. _ _ naval victory of the United .States, 32. occupation of a foreign capital by U. S. army, 353. oriental embassy, 485. squadron combat of the U. S. navy, 163. steamboat in American waters, 150. steam railway, 646. telegraphic message over an established line, 249. telegraphic message through Atlantic cable, 631. 'i H K Great cathedral, St. Patrick's, in New York, 675. comet of 1843, .300. debate of Webster and Hayne, 205. exhibition of 1853, in New York, 421. exposition of 1876. at Philadelphia, 689. financial crisis, of WfiJ, 447. gold fever, of 1848, 360. petroleum excitement, of 1859, 476. religious awakening, of 18.57, 476. temperance reformation, of 1840, 276. tragedy of the century, 617. uprising of the North, of 1861, 501. yacht race, the victory of the U. S. in, 403. The Greatest New Year's present of the century, 547. The " Little Monitor," at Hampton roads, 526. The N.4-TI0NAL Granoe movement, history of, 660. Theodosia, Aaron Burr's daughter, devotion of, 148. — her mysterious fate, 149. Theories, of Professors Dana and Sillinian as to the orif^in and source of petroleum, 483. — ot Agassiz, Faraday and Herschel as to spiritual- ism, 343. Three Days' Battle at Gettysburg, ,563. Tickets, to .jenny Lind's first concerts, sale of, 390, 391. Tides, remarkable effect of the great gale of 1815, upon the, 180. TipPEC.iNOE, Gen. WillLam Henry Harrison's victory at. 97. Tomb of Lafayette,195. — of Washington, at Mount Vernon. 125. Lafayette's visit to the. 104. visit of the Prince of Wales to the, 406. " Tommy " .Tapanese, the petting of, by the ladies of the United States. 491. Total Solar Eclipse at midday, of 1806, 134. Tour, the United States, of the Prince of Wales, 493. — musical, of Jenny Liud, in the L'nited States, 386. — of Kossuth, in the United .States, 412. — of Lafayette in the United States, 186. Tr.iveling on the first steam railway, 646. — by the first steamboat, 152. Tre.\son, of Major-general Benedict Arnold, 48. — of Aaron Burr, 140. Treating with the Indians, 91. Tre.\ty of peace and commerce with Japan, 485. Trial of Aaron Burr, for conspiracy, 148. — of Prof. Webster, for murder of Dr. Parkmau, 380. — of John H. Surratt, Mrs. Surratt, Atzerodt, Harold and Payne, for conspiracy. 028. Triu.'UPH.vl .Journey of Washington to New York to be inaugurated President, So. Tunisian Tent at the centennial, 704, Two Hundred Y'ears of education, 667. Tycoon of Japan, letter ot ihe, to President Bu- chanan, 489. u. Unani.mous Election of General Washington to the Presidency, 85. " Unconditional Surrender," how Gen. U. S. Grant won the title, 559. Unconirollable Panic at Bull Run, 521. Une.xpected Embrace of the Prince of Wales, 497. Unfurli.ng of the United States Flag, Fremont, on the summit of the Kocky Mountains, 287. Gen. Scott, from the halls of the Montezuma.?, 353. Union, Daniel Webster's apostrophe to the, 211. — petition in congress for the dissolution of the, by Massachusetts citizens, 257. Union Square, N. Y., centennial display in. 697. United State.s, John Adams, at the British Court as first ambassador of the, 74. Unparalleled gale, the, ot 1815, 178. — con flagration of the century, the, 653. Unprecedented Spectacle in a legislative body, 437. • Unusual Appearance of the water during the myste- rious dark day of 1780, 42. Use of rock oil by the early Indian tribes, 476. Uses of petroleum, the various, 484. Utah, migrations of the Mormons to, 220. V. Vapor-s, peculiar, during the dark day of 1780, 42. Various etfects of the inhalation of ether, 329. — uses of rock oil by the early tribes of Indians, 476. — uses of petroleum. 484. Velocity ot the falling meteors in the great shower of stars of 1833, 232. Vera Ckuz, Gen. Scott's victory at, 348. Vessel, burning of a merchant, by the Alabama, 581. Vessels, in the streets of Providence, during the great gaJe of 1815, 179. Vesta, the collision of the, with the Arctic, at noon- day, in mid-ocean, 428. Vicksburg, the campaign against. 551. — Gen. Grant's famous terms of surrender to the garrison of, 559. Victor Emanuel, the centennial message of, 705. Victoria, her visit to the yacht America, 411. — her letter to President Buchanan, 444. — her thanks to the people of the U. S. for courtesies to Prince Albert, 500. — her applause at Earey's horse taming exhibition lu London, 513. Victorious Race of the yacht .America, in the great in- ternational regatta, 403. Victory, first United States naval, 32. I C I. INDEX. 739 Victory of Commodore John Paul Jones, over the Se- rapis, o5. — the crowning, at Yorktown, 57, — and defeat in the Indian wars, 93. — on lake aud hind by Perry aud Harrison, 167. — of Gen. Jackson, at New Orleans, 176. — of Gens. Taylor and Scott, in Mexico, 350. — of the Confederates at Bull Kun, 523. — of Grant at Vicksburg, 557. — of Gen. Meade at Gettysburg, 567. — of the Kearsarge over the Alabama, 687. — of Farragut at New Orleans, 589. — — in Mobile Bay, 694. — of Porter at Fort Fisher, 597. — of Sherman at Savannah, 605. — of Grant at Richmond, 607. Vigilance Committee, reign of the, in California, 305. Visit of Father Mathew to the United States in the sause of temperance, 281. ' to the United States, of the Prince of "Wales, 493. — -of Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, 690, of Lafayette, in 1824, 186. of Kossuth, the Hungarian exile, 412. of the Japanese Princes, 4S6. Visits of Moody and Sankey to the "rious cities, 467. Voting for President, the first, 85. Vow, of President Lincoln, as to proclaiming freedom to the slaves, if Lee should be driven from Pa., 548. NA/. Wager, the great, on the yacht America, 404. Wagner's centennial inauguration march, 690, Wales, Prince of, his tour in the United States, 493. Wall Street, N, Y., scenes in, during the great panic of 1857, 449. Ward, J. Q. A., his monument to the discovery of ether as an anesthetic, 330. Warfare, ocean, the effect upon the method of, by the introduction of the irou-clads, 534. Warning of Washington to St. Clair, 95. Washington, Gen., appointment of, to the command of the continental army, 64. — receiving his commission from congress, 65. — taking conmiand of the army at Cambridge, Go. — record of his generalship, 65. — his indignant refusal of American kingship, 66. — his farewell address to his army, 67. — his return of his commission to congress, 68. — his unanimous election as president, 85. — the last wonls of the mother of, to, 85. — the ovations to, on his journey to inauguration, 86. — ceremonies of the inauguration of, in N. Y., 89. — his prophecy upon signing the constitution, 82. — his wrath, at the defeat of St. Clair, 95. — his suppression of the whiskey insurrection, 107. — his influence in locating the national capital, 114. — laying of the corner stone of the capitol by, 116. — his death bed and last words, 122. — the funeral obsequies of, 123. — the eulogies of, by the crowned heads and great generals of Europe. 125. — the tomb of, visit of Lafayette to, 194. the visit of the heir to the British throne to. 496. — the city of, sectional contest over the establishing the seat of government at, \1^. transferring of the archives to, 116. Washingtonian Temperance Society, origin of the name of the, 278. Waters of the Dead Sea. Lynch's examination of. 359. Wayne, Mad Anthony, defeat of the Indians by, 93, Webster, Daniel, his oration at the laying of the cor- ner stone of the capitol extension, lis. Webster, Daniel, his great debate with Hayne, 206. — effect of the speech of, against Hayne, 210. — his eulogy of Massachusetts, 209. — his apostrophe to the Union, 211. — his impromptu duet with Jenny Lind, 393. — his encomium of Kossuth, 418. — Prof., the murder of Dr. Parkman by, 376. singular detection of, 378. hardihood on trial of, 381. firm denial and subsequent confession of, 382. Welcome to Lafayette by the people of the U. S., 190 — to Kossuth by the citizens of New York, 417. — to the Prince of Wales by the American people, 498. Wells, Dr. W., his claim to the discovery of ether as an anaesthetic, 326, West Point, plot of Beoiedict Arnold to deliver, to the British. 48. appearance of, in 1780, 52. the grand military reception of the Prince of Wales at, 498. Whirlwind, the great, of 1815, 178. Whiskey Insurrection, the great Penn., 105. causes of, 106. repression of, by the United States army. 111. — Lincoln's proscription of, to the generals, 562. Whitney, Eli, the early history of, 98. — how a bright woman helped him, 99. — the invention of the cotton gin by, 100. — the discouragements and final success of, 103. Whittier, John G.. centennial poem written by, 690. Wilcox, Gen., at Bull Kun, 517. William, Emperor of Germany, his congratulatory centennial letter to Pres. Grant, 745. WiNSLow, Capt., in command of the Kearsarge, sink- ing the Alabama, 586. Winthrop, Robert C, the centennial oration at Bos- ton by, 700. Woman's Pavilion at the centennial exposition, 703. Wonderful dark day of 1780, account of the, 39. — gateway in the Rocky mountains, 286. — meteoric sbower of 1833, 228, Word, the most important, in the proclamation of emancipation, 547. Words, last, of Gen. Washington, 119. — last written, of President Lincoln, 619. World, the Millerites waiting the expected destruc- tion of the, 307. World's Fair, the great of 1853, in New York, 421. WoRDEN, Lieut. John S., exploits of, with the " Little Monitor," .r)32. Wrath of Washington at the defeat of St. Clair, 95. Y. Yacht America, triumph of the, at the greatintemS' tional race. 403. Queen Victoria's inspection of the, 411. Yale College in 1784, 668. grounds around, 672. growth of, 673. Year, the centennial, celebrations of, 689. Yellow Fever, its visitations upon the U. S., 368. the ravages of, 369. Yorktown, surrender of Cornwallls at, 55. — junction of the American and French forces at, 56. — letter of King George as to the defeat at, 60. Young, Brigham, the Mormon leader, history of, 220. Young Meigs, voluntary generalship at Bull Run, 524. Zeal of Lafayette for the American cause. 55, 186. Zouaves, the New York, their dash and daring at Bull Run. 022. > <, '•• Jff^i, Jfi% Ji^'f J^r> KT. 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